“C’mon, Green!” Dusthoof ran around her in a circle, the buffalo’s sharp cloven hooves sending bits of shredded grass into the air. “C’mon c’mon c’mon!”
Green blinked, following at a sedate pace. Amber and Dusk were going to talk to the Tribe’s leader, and she wanted to be there.
But Dusthoof was so strange. She had more energy than any pony Green had ever seen, although maybe the earth ponies were like that, down in the fields. She leapt around for no reason, and her legs and barrel were strong from running around in the sun.
“My dad always likes to keep track of me,” Dusthoof said, stopping her bounding for a short time as they approached a large cluster of buffalo at the center of the tribe. “He’s Chief Grass Song’s third in command. Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll let you stay!”
“That’s good,” Green said. Dusk looked back at them both, giving Green a small smile. Green’s muscles relaxed. If Dusk wasn’t afraid, then they were safe. Probably.
“Well, look at what we have here!” Green flinched at the bellowing, deep voice. An enormous buffalo, adorned with a crest of dried grass stems, stared down at the three ponies. This must be Chief Grass Song. He was bigger than any gryphon, and sharp horns jutted from the top of his head.
“We are ponies,” Dusk said, arching his neck to look at the enormous buffalo. “We’ve come a very long way. My name is Dusk, and this is Green.” The huge head swiveled toward her and back. “And you’ve met Amber.”
“Yes. She said you were on the way to a place called Equestria.”
“Yes!” Dusk’s voice grew higher in pitch and his ears swiveled forward. “Have you heard of it?”
“No.” Dusk’s ears fell, and Green’s stomach tightened. They still must be so far. Unless Equestria wasn’t even real, and was just a story, like all the stories her parents had told her of ancient ponies. “But we know of ponies like you.”
“I’ve never seen a pony before!” Dusthoof called from next to Green.
Chief Grass Song rumbled, and it took Green a moment to figure out that he was laughing. “The little one is right. You are the first we’ve seen in all of our migrations. But we have many tales of ponies like you.” He nodded. “We have many tales of many creatures.”
“Can we hear them?” Amber asked, taking a step forward. “The tales of ponies?”
Grass Song nodded. “You may share our nightly fires for as long as you like. If you travel with us, you will hear many of our tales.”
Green smiled. She had missed stories.
“Migration?” Dusk asked. “Where are you migrating too?”
“The same trails our ancestors ran, from the edge of the mountains to the edge of the great forest,” Grass Song answered. “We have done so for generations.”
Dusk looked up at the sky, his eyes narrowed. Green looked up too, but she didn’t see what he was looking at. “Do you run along the path of the sun, or across it?” he asked.
Chief Grass Song tilted his head to look at the sky, then swiveled his gaze to another buffalo, who’s fur was tinged at the ends with bits of gray and who’s snout was marred with wrinkles. She wore a bag around her neck. “We run across the sun’s path,” she said, her voice reedy with age. “And for now we go toward the forest, away from the mountains.” She smiled, peering with rheumy eyes at Dusk, Amber, and finally Green. Green shivered under her gaze. She had never seen anyone so obviously old before.
“Do you wish to travel with us?” Grass Song asked. “I don’t know where this Equestria is, but you seem to know where you’re going.”
Dusthoof romped in a circle around Green. “Say yes! Say yes!”
Dusk nodded, snorting in laughter at the prancing Dusthoof. “Alright. We’ll migrate with you, as far as we can. I don’t know if our paths will cross for very long, but…well, we could use the comrades. Safety in numbers.”
Green grew dizzy trying to keep track of Dusthoof as she danced in circles, and Green nearly fell over when the young buffalo leaped over her head, doing a somersault in the air before landing behind her. “C’mon, Greenie, we’re traveling now!” She darted into the grass.
“How long will the journey to the great forest take?” Green heard Dusk ask as she followed Dusthoof away from the meeting. She missed the Chief’s response.
Grass waved all around them, most of the stalks reaching up to Green’s fetlocks. Small insects buzzed around her ears and tail, and she flicked them away. Dusthoof darted ahead of her, zigging and zagging in every direction. “So where did you ponies come from?” she asked, darting back to where Green walked. “Did you come from the Equestria place and you’re going home now?”
“No.” Dusthoof waited, head cocked. “We came from over the mountains. Or under them.”
“What’s on the other side?” Dusthoof did a small dance in place in excitement. “My dad always says it’s dangerous to leave the plains. The mountains have giant cats, dogs and minotaurs, and the great forest has…” she trailed off, blinking. “I forget. But it’s dangerous too!”
“It is dangerous,” Green said with a shudder. “Very dangerous.” Rikarr sneered in her mind’s eye. The buffalo were big, but not even they could stand up to Rikarr’s cruel metal-tipped talons. “Your father is right.”
Dusthoof’s face fell. “Don’t worry now, Greenie. You’re with our tribe. Nothing bad has ever happened to us, and my father will protect you like he protects me!” She nudged Green’s shoulder with her own, nearly sending Green tumbling. “You’ll hear all about our legends tonight. Now c’mon! Let’s run!”
Green paused while Dusthoof darted away. She looked back at the rest of the tribe, picking out individual buffalo. Which one was Dusthoof’s father?
She wondered if her father was still alive. She hadn’t seen him since the dehorning, when the light had gone out of his eyes. When Amber had led her away, he hadn’t said anything, just staring ahead into the distance.
She closed her eyes, summoning up a force inside her. Her horn fizzed, and light gleamed, almost invisible in the bright light of day. Tiny sparks fell and disappeared into the grass. It was nothing like the magic her father had done, when he lifted things for the gryphons, and it paled in comparison to the forces her mother had summoned. Green wished they could have taught her. She wished she had heard more of the legends of old ponies.
Dusthoof still raced around the edges of the herd, and another young buffalo had taken up the chase. “C’mon, Greenie, can’t you run?” she called.
Green let her magic fade, and as it did the day grew brighter around her, the grass suddenly more real. The memory of her father’s blank gaze vanished.
She could run. She had gotten pretty good at that.
***
The herd traveled slowly, but it was still fast enough that fatigue began to slow Green’s steps by the time the sun dipped below the horizon. Or maybe the burning in her legs was just from trying to keep up with Dusthoof.
“Follow the Chief!” Dusthoof said, leaping over Green’s back in a sideways somersault as they cantered. Ahead of them, Amber ran next to Dusthoof’s father, and the last Green had seen of Dusk, he had been trotting somewhere behind them, his small form lost among the herd. “We’re going to head into the evening run now! Then we’ll make the fire!”
Green blinked. In all of Dusthoof’s chattering today about everything from her father’s wisdom to the tastiness of different grasses, she hadn’t explained much about the fire. Green had only been close to fires when Talisk and her mother had visited the forges, where the unicorns melted down ore to help construct Rikarr’s metal talon extensions. She shivered.
“Run faster! You’ll warm up!” Dusthoof pulled ahead, clods of dirt and tufts of grass puffing from the ground from her sharp hooves.
Heart beginning to pound, Green put on a burst of energy. Around her, the ground and air rumbled as every buffalo sped up. This must be why the dogs had called them the thunderhooves.
The noise grew until it thrummed through her body and head, and even the ground beneath her hooves seemed to spring under the weight of the herd. It drew out her breath, and she found the rhythm, a fast paced pound like the beat of her heart.
“Keep up, Green,” Dusk said as he caught up beside her. His coat shone with sweat. “We have to stay with the herd, but we’re still going in the direction of the star. We’ll be safe with them.”
The run grew faster, Dusthoof looking back and grinning as she drew further and further ahead. Green’s body responded to the rhythm of the buffalo’s hooves, drawing her into a gallop she had never known she was capable of, the grass a blur underhoof. Her breathing matched her speed, and soon all she could hear was her own breath and the thunder of the buffalo, a dizzying song in her ears.
This was different than the run yesterday. Then it had been a dash under the stars. Now the evening sun shone pink down upon her and the dozens of others that surrounded her, the wind rushing around them all. She was hidden, and she was fast. Dusk was right. She felt…safe.
It was a strange feeling.
More and more of the buffalo passed her and Dusk, until they ran in the back with only one other buffalo and the gray furred elder for company. The bag around the elder’s neck swayed with her lopsided gait. Just before they fell further back, a bellow cut the air, and the thunder began to lessen.
Almost as soon as it had begun, the evening gallop ended, the buffalo coming to a stop. Dusk collapsed to the ground, flanks heaving. Green swayed on her feet, sweat dripping down her forehead, but she too breathed harder than she ever had before. Without the rhythm of the run, she had to find her own pattern again.
“Why did you not fly?” The elder asked. Green pricked her ears forward. “I am surprised one your age fell back so far.” The old buffalo chuckled.
Dusk stood, stretching his legs. “I would have missed the experience, wouldn’t I?”
“You are wise for one so slow,” the elder said with another snort of laughter. She turned to Green. “Come, little one. Will you help us with the fire?”
Green blinked, turning to Dusk before looking back at the elder. “How?”
The elder grinned. “Come. You unicorns have magic, don’t you? We would love to see it.”
“Go on, Green,” Dusk said. “I’ll come too. Don’t worry.”
Green nodded, even as Dusk’s words made her think. She wasn’t worried.
She followed the old buffalo, Dusk staying close. Other buffalo stretched their legs or tossed their heads, and once two crashed together with a sound like a tree cracking. Dusk tensed, his wings flattening against his body. The buffalo laughed as they broke apart, and the elder shook her head with a quiet laugh.
“So, little one,” she said, and Green tilted her head when instead of looking at her the elder turned to Dusk. “I have never seen one so afraid.”
Dusk’s eyes narrowed, but before he could answer Chief Grass Song’s voice bellowed. “Elder Stonehoof will begin the evening tale!”
The elder—Stonehoof—trotted faster, and Dusk and Green kept up. The buffalo were gathering in a circle around the elder and the Chief, and Green’s eyes widened at the sight of a flattened circle of grass. Dry brush had been gathered and placed inside the circle.
“Elder Stonehoof will light the fire!” Chief Grass Song called. A small shape darted among the herd, and then leapt over the backs of a few buffalo to appear next to Green.
“I want to see!” Dusthoof said. “I love this part.”
“Then you will see a new trick, great-granddaughter,” the elder said. She swiveled her eyes to Green, and Green trembled under the weight of her great dark gaze. “This little pony will light our fire tonight.”
“I will?”
“You can do it, Green,” Amber said. Green hadn’t noticed the other pony arrive. Amber’s flanks were streaked with sweat, but she stood tall and proud, her cutie mark shining with the sheen of her sweat and the dimming glow of the evening sun. “C’mon. Maybe you’ll find your talent too.”
The circle lay before her, and a dry breeze lifted some of the brush. Green called up her magic, using the same light spell she had called upon dozens of times underground. Small sparks fell into the circle, but they vanished among the brush.
“No, no,” Dusthoof said. “Fire, Green, fire! Ponies can do that, right?”
The only fire Green had ever seen were the smelting fires. The ones where Rikarr had made his metal talons. Talons to kill her mother, and cripple her father. The sight of his severed horn lying in the grass flashed across her vision.
Her magic flared with her anger, and heat rushed over her body. Buffalo gasped, and Dusthoof squealed.
“Hot!” Dusthoof shrieked in excitement. A fire roared in the circle, the edges blackening. The buffalo moved away, and Dusk and Amber stared with ears pricked forward.
“Good job, little one,” the elder said, her short snout curled up in a knowing smile. “Now, gather round.” She pitched her voice to the crowd. “I will tell you a story of ponies, ponies like the ones who have just joined us, from the time when our migrations first began.”
***
In the distant past, the plains were very different. The world was wild, free, and the rains would come.
The first herds hated the rains. They were cold, bringing in bite from the north. Ice would coat the ground, and made patches of the grass die. Food was scarce during winter.
One winter, the rain fell as snow, and there were no healthy patches left. The tribes had to make a choice—stay, and face starvation, or move on, heading with the north star at our backs to a warmer place where the snow would not follow.
The chiefs of the tribes reached an agreement, and the migrations began. When the weather grew cold, we headed toward the mountain, and when it warmed again, we came toward the forest. For almost a generation we did this, while the snows fell every winter.
One summer, a tribe of buffalo came back to see a strange thing. Ponies, like the winged one who stands before us now. They carried their belongings with them in the air, tied around their backs, and their eyes were angry.
“Our commander has failed us. Allying with earth ponies and unicorns? What a foolish thing to do. We are leaving.” Those were the words in their mouths and the message in their hearts. They headed into the plains, moving fast in the sky.
But they were not the only ones. Another group of ponies came from the forest as that summer went on. These ponies had horns on their heads, like the little one, and their belongings floated around them with magic.
The words were the same. “Allying with pegasi and earth ponies? Our Princess is a fool. We are leaving.” They headed into the plains, their magic glowing in the night.
In midsummer, the herd saw the ponies for the last time. These ponies looked like the brown one, and carried their belongings on their backs and in huge wagons. They said the same as the last two groups, save for one small pony.
“I don’t want to go,” the small pony said. “I want to go back. I like unicorns and pegasi. I have friends back home. Don’t make me go. I want to live in with everyone. Our harmony will save us. The winter will end.”
His parents tried to make him leave, but he would not. The family was left behind, and they stayed with the Tribe while the rest of the ponies headed into the plains.
The family stayed with the Tribe for the summer. The small pony assured us the cold snow would not return, and that harmony in his new home, his new country, would save the world. His parents did not agree, and told him that when the snows came, they would follow the Tribe into the plains. They said that pegasi, unicorns and earth ponies would never live together.
But when winter came, the snows did not come. The rains did not come either. The weather stayed beautiful.
The little pony beamed. “I told you!” he said. “The ponies have found harmony!” With that, the family turned and headed back into the forest, leaving the tribe and going home.
The tribe did not need to leave as not even the rains had returned, but our migrations had become tradition. The grass had been cropped short in summer, so we headed once more into the plains. But we never saw the other ponies again, even when we reached the mountains.
***
The elder’s voice faded into the crackling of flames, her words settling over Green’s mind like her mother’s stories once had. Around her, buffalo blinked and shifted as though coming out of a spell.
“What happened to the other ponies?” Dusthoof exclaimed, breaking the silence. “The ones who didn’t like each other? If buffalo never saw them again, where did they go?”
The elder chuckled. “Perhaps that is a story our ponies can tell?” she swiveled her gaze from Amber, to Dusk, and finally to Green.
Green shivered. She couldn’t know what had happened to all of them. But to her own distant ancestors, she could guess.