//------------------------------//
// Frost Part One 
// Story: Son of Winter 
// by DiscoDash 
//------------------------------//

	Light seeps in from the clutter of trees and leaves as you walk along the beaten path. The odd sounds of the creatures of the massive jungle surround you; some stalking you, some fleeing from you. The dark and humid forest, while looming over the people outside its boundaries, is what you consider home.

You find the only reason you’re walking to town now is because you’ve been called out from your house by your only neighbor, a strange zebra named Zecora. She had asked you to head to town to help with something.

You faintly recall it being about the teacher wanting some help on history. Of course you tried to say no, about how you dislike going to town... but that woman, that witch... She... well, she scares you.

You have no idea what she’s able to do or with what freaky voodoo crap she might curse you. With a sigh, you take a long drag on your pipe to calm your nerves as you walk along the path to town, each step making the piccolo on your neck bounce along with your knapsack as you think of what you’re going to say to the town's folk.

You let your mind wander for a while before settling on answering the question of who it was that leaked your existence. Zecora knows your disdain for encountering people and only four others know you. It’s not really a hard task matching the one who snitched on you and how you’re going to deal with them.

With a scowl, you reach the edge of jungle. If anyone saw you now, they’d probably run or gawk at you, yelling or whispering something like... “Sweet Celestia! Something just walked out of the Everfree Forest!” yelled what sounded like a panicked stallion.

Your scowl deepens as you retort at the man. “It’s a jungle, you ignorant twat!”

You stand there with your two hooves planted firmly on the ground, holding your knapsack in your left and holding your pipe in your right, watching the pony run towards the town. That pony acted like he’s never seen a satyr.

Watching him, you notice that he seems to run towards the direction of the town. You’d like to get your job done and over with as soon as possible so you can return home, so after adjusting your belt, you follow the tracks the stallion left to the town.

It’s not long before you’re almost in the town square. You barely set a hoof in the borders of the town before that pony from before starts a small panic. Wanting to keep moving, you try to ignore them, but it doesn’t look like the thick crowd is going to allow you to get going anywhere anytime soon. A small panic and a mob start to form around you. Seeing only one easy way to stop this commotion, you let out a sigh.

Dropping your knapsack, you smother the ember in your pipe and put it in the pouch you carry around your waist. The crowd is watching you intently, trying to find out your motives. Calmly, you raise your piccolo to your lips and blow softly. The ponies calm down and stare at you intently. Once you get in a good rhythm, you close your eyes and start to move.

You carry yourself as if you were a leaf blowing and dancing in the wind. With closed eyes, you could only imagine the silent crowd watch with baited breath as you dance away. Whenever you play your piccolo, you enter your own world; a world comprised of only you and the music.

With a push of a single leg, you hop from your left leg to your right and use the momentum to spin around. With the end of the spin, you feel that you've done more than enough to please the crowd.  You cease playing your piccolo and open your eyes. The stern look on your face still remains, along with the same dull expression and your, voice full of scorn when you speak. “Was that enough to calm you morons down?”

They’re all silent, looking at you for answers. One familiar looking pony breaks through the dense crowd and greets you. ”Well howdy, Anon! Ah didn’t expect you to get here so fast!”

Your left eye twitches a bit and you crouch down. “Applebloom. Didn’t I ask you—no, make you promise—to tell no one of my existence?”

She looks down and kicks at the ground, knocking a bit of dirt loose. ”Yes...”

“Now, would you mind telling me how did that teacher came to learn of me?” you ask, glaring daggers at her.

She glances up at you, still kicking the ground. ”She asked the class to bring in a pony to tell the story of Hearth’s Warming Eve…” she said, her voice sounding like she’s on the verge of tears.

“And I popped into your mind?” you reply, ignoring her tears.

She nods. “I spoke up without thinking...” You glare at her and she shrinks back. “I thought of you when you were telling me, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle those old stories... You told them with large smile on your face.”

You glare at her. “That’s not going to work, kid.”

You hear her mumble something under her breath before she speaks up. “I’ll tell Zecora you wouldn’t do it!”

You groan at the mention of Zecora. You really don’t like having to talk with her.. “No, please don’t. I’ll do it.” She smirks. “But... There’s a glaring problem in your plan.” She looks up at you as you grab your knapsack. “I’ve told you this once before. I’m not a pony. I’m a satyr.”  She smiles and jumps around you. “Now we have a teacher to find, don’t we?”

She looks up to you and smiles before nodding. “Yeah!”

You pick her up and position her on your head. “Now do me a favor and point the way.”

For the time being, you're going to have to act your best and put on a smile... no matter how uncomfortable you are. So with a false smile and a seemingly gleeful jump up, you gather your things and start on your way with Applebloom leading the way. The walk to the schoolhouse is short and forgettable; the expected gawking and whispering was far from mind.

Standing in front of the schoolhouse, Applebloom jumps down and tells you to wait there. She runs inside and you lean against the side of the building, thinking about rekindling your pipe. That idea flees from you when two small fillies walk towards you.

One has a small tiara on. You immediately peg her as an over-privileged brat. Her friend looks like someone who just follows the popular one, copying his or her personality. They stop in front of you and the pink one starts to talk. “What are YOU supposed to be? Nightmare Night was months ago!”

You don’t like her already, so you decide to keep it short. “Says the one with a plastic tiara. What’re you, the princess of make-believe?”

Oh, she’s pissed. She stamps her hoof into the ground and yells at you. “PLASTIC?! I’ll have you know this was hoof-made in Canterlot with real diamonds!”

“I bet that’s what your daddy said so you’d shut up.” She pouts and her friend takes her place.


You trace her hoof to your piccolo, causing your eye to twitch. You keep your cool and shrug it off with a reply. “By all rights, it costs more than Canterlot Castle. But I’ll let you believe what you want.”

They’re about to muster up a reply when an excited Applebloom storms outside, calling for you. “Anon! Ms. Cheerilee called you—” She stops right in her tracks when she sees the brats.

Her eyes glance at you when she asks, “Were they bothering you, Anon?”

You shake your head. “Not really, no. So, as you were saying?”

“You can go in now.” she replies, her voice almost monotone, still glaring at the two brats.

Shrugging, you reply, “Alright then.”

Pushing off the side of the building, you turn to the door, shooting one last glare at the two of the fillies as they walk past you. Trudging yourself in through the doorway, you get greeted by widespread murmuring. Glancing down at Applebloom, you whisper to her, “You remembered to tell them I wasn’t exactly a pony... right?”

She hits her head lightly with her left hoof before exclaiming, “Ah knew Ah forgot something!”

You groan and smack your face with your hand. “Let’s get this over with...”

You walk up to who you assume to be the teacher and give a mocking bow. “I assume you’re the teacher of the class?” you ask.

”Err, I.. I am...” the teacher replies.

You raise up and examine her. Upon looking at her, you see that she's nothing special: a mare of cerise colour and a two-toned mane comprised of two shades of pink. You can see she feels a tad uneasy as she shuffles back a bit, unsure of you. Sighing, you hold up your right hand. “I mean no harm, Ms...?”

She stops moving back and answers your question timidly.  “Cheerilee...”

“Ms. Cheerilee. I was contacted by a... neighbour... that told me you were looking for a storyteller. Am I wrong?”

She shakes her head. “No. It’s just that...”

You cut her off. “You weren’t expecting someone like me? I get that a lot. If you want, I can leave.”

She looks at you and then to the ground, as if she was disappointed at herself. “No, please. Stay.” she says, sounding a bit disheartened.

You smile before responding. “Now, when am I to start?”

“After you introduce yourself.” she says, waving over the class with her left hoof.

A scowl forms across your face at the mention of a name. You should have thought that a name would have come up. You walk over to the nearby desk and place your knapsack on it. Opening it, you rummage through it for the proper volume of the journals. Finding it, you return to the front of the class. “As Ms. Cheerilee said, introductions are required. So, I’ll get this out of the way.  I have no name. My mother didn’t name me, she didn’t live long enough to be able to, nor did I have any friends to do so.”

The class starts to look around when you pause for a second to look for the next words. They quiet down when you continue to speak. “For the sake of politeness, you may refer to me as either Anonymous or Story Teller. Either or will work.”

You grab a nearby stool and place in in the front. “Now, before I start, I have a few rules. They are: No talking while I tell the story, no note passing while I tell the story, and all questions you have will be held at the end of the chapter. Any questions?”

One colt raises his hoof  nod at him. “What are you?” he asks bluntly.

You sigh before replying. “A satyr. Half human, half pony. I’m living proof of the events I’m about to tell. Anything else?” The colt shakes his head and you see another hoof raised. It’s one of the brats from earlier. “Nothing? Then I’ll start.”

You sit down on the stool and open the book. The brat with the tiara shouts as you ignore her. “Hey! Don’t ignore me!”

You look up from your book and glare at her. “Remember my rules. If you don’t, I’ll ask the teacher to boot you from the class.” She puts her hoof down and pouts. Your gaze returns to the book and you start telling the tale.“This is the story of Obekant. The Son of Winter.”