Pimprenelle swept uselessly the front of her door, before turning towards her neighbor and friend, Mink.
“Have you seen this poor Mr. Latenight?” whispered the latter, glancing toward the house facing the street, “He’s an oddity since his young daughter left, his lawn is so poorly maintained we could think his house haunted!”
“Why are you whispering, my dear? It’s not him who is going to hear you.” If Mink was something, it would be a chatterbox, and this even with her greyish fifty years of experience. It bothered Pimprenelle a bit, who was more interested in the art of pumpkin crop than by the comings and goings of the neighbor’s dog, or in this case, the mood of a father without his daughter. But there again, you do not choose your friends. “ It’s absolutely normal, although a bit worrying on behalf of Mr. Latenight, to react like this…” she added, following her friend’s glances. The house wore a pleasant appearance thanks to the red brick veneer, but it was spoiled by the white upright, which painting was flaking. The garden was decorated by granite statues and the stoop cluttered with various objects in such a manner one could think the house as a sculptor studio, but the view from the street was obscured by impressive flowery bushes. The ensemble could be seen as a curiosity, something ugly but possessing interesting features.
“Worrying?! It’s been 3 months he mope alone in his house!” She exclaimed, agitating her hooves to highlight her indignation.
“...”
“ It’s hardly if we saw a shadow from time to time at the windows!”
“Oh dear, since when are you spying on our neighbor’s house?” asked Pimprenelle humorlessly.
“I’m not spying! I just like to...spend time in my garden!”
“Hum...be it as it may, the district is always as calm as possible, it’s wonderful to not have a group of kid shouting, running everywhere and ruining my vegetables!” Pimprenelle said, trying to change the subject of the conversation.
“ Yes indeed, but what is the name of her daughter again? Luni, Lun...something…”
“Luna. She’s seventeen now.” Undoubtedly, nothing could stop her friend. She swept some leaves away, waiting for Mint to continue. Autumn is a tiring season, for sure.
“A very strange child, always alone with a sketch-book...it’s sad, but anypony can recognize the behavior of those who do not have a mother.”
For once there is some sadness in Mint’s voice…For it was true. Luna was one of those ponies the world was pleased to ignore. Strange and asocial, she’d never sought the company of the other children and addressed the adult with a cold smile and a polite language, as if she considered a simple hello a sterile attempt to divert her from her daily objectif; a waste of time neither enjoyable, neither annoying. Her behaviour acted purposely as a barrier which discouraged the few who attempted to know her better, but a more unnatural cause had made her a black ship in a white flock: she had both an horn and a pair of wings. An inexplicable phenomenon for some, a malediction for others, her case had attracted all the hippologistes of the region and after maint debates and arguments, they had diagnosed a brutal autosomal mutation, as a last resort. Since those days, Luna had applied herself to hide her wings and had persevered years after years, so that her appendages were now weak and incapable of flying. This self punishment had, of course, alerted her father but he hadn’t be able to solve the situation because of his job, which had used a lot of his time. He hadn’t been present enough for his daughter and had left her alone in the cold house he worked for, too many nights...those were probably the reason why Luna separated herself from the world, giving the impression she was hiding something and didn’t wanted friends to discover it.
“She left since three months, and in view of her father’s behavior, she’ll not come back.”
Three months earlier…
It was by mild morning in Ponyville, where the eternal show of the equine’s business took place, that I departed for what will be the big adventure of my life. Okay, maybe not. I was charged by my father to travel until a little village near the Crystal Mountains where my aunt resided. She was seriously sick and the medicines were available only in Canterlot, which postal service refused to deliver fragile packets for a grouping of houses lost in the middle of the frozen north. Too much risk apparently, for a system which used only pegasis.
When my father received the letter, he wanted to send somepony else, but I insisted, emphasizing that I was mature and bored enough to complete the delivery, for it would be my first time outside the region of Canterlot. And now I was waiting in my compartment for the train to move off, incapable of suppressing a stupid smile from my face, and excited like a foal. Through the window, I could see the steam of the locomotives melting with the equine noises of the crowd, squeezing up against the colorful wagons that will take them to their destinations. It was the middle of Autumn and, despite the efforts of the sun the air was still chilling, forcing the ponies to wear scarfs and hats, but offering a magnificent spectacle for who have the time to enjoy it. However, this did not discourage them and the train station was filled with smiles and laughter. The mood was contagious, I had the assumption my travel would be easy and smooth as the locomotive started, steaming and snoring like a giant iron monster.
The journey passed rapidly, thanks to the romance novels I brought with me. As I finished a chapter I lifted my eyes to the window, surprised to see the night so advanced. The landscape slipped away from my eyes, passing like a ghostly blur in the cold canvas that was the sky, the stars partially obscured by clouds. The moon is as beautiful as always, I thought, flabbergasted by the simple perfection of the lunar circle, its sight filling my heart with a strange desire, a longing I knew since the apparition of my cutie mark. My special talent, me. My face appeared on the window, reflected by the sudden light of the hallway. I observed it carefully. I wasn’t bad, physically speaking. I had been complimented a lot of time for my naturally soft blue fur and lovely lighter mane, which cascaded elegantly on my face, and now that I had the opportunity to, I started to enjoy my appearance. Then, something very strange occurred. I had the sudden impression that it wasn’t Luna’s face the window was reflecting; those teal, crystal blue eyes were now paralyzing me with a savage and aggressive stare. Foreign, bizarre, dangerous...a shiver ran down my neck, I wanted to turn away but my own curiosity held me in place; behind the factice masque of my twisted reflection, I could only see the growing malaise of somepony who did not find her life’s purpose.
I looked away and panicked when I realized I was holding my breath. Placing a hoof on my chest, I forced myself to breathe in and out. What was I doing? Still shivering, I picked up my novel and put it in my saddle bag, and sighed, resting my face against the cold frame of the skylight. This relieved me somehow as I listened to my heartbeats, the cold chasing the throbbing pain that had installed itself in my head. Was I that desperate? My chest seemed profoundly empty. My life seemed devoid of meaning and my cutie mark as vague as possible. All those years I had simply let myself exist, clinging on my identity like a tick to a dog...No! I am Luna, I like to read romance novels, to paint landscapes, to make delicious flower necklaces, to study history, to eat fritters...and then, what? Were those activities the only representation of my happiness? I furrowed my brows. I needed a line in my life. A purpose, something worth it, who would take me somewhere, so I could start to understand who I-
“Your ticket, please.” I jumped and make a bunch of noises vaguely looking like squeaks. I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t noticed the controller standing next to me. Ashamed, I dug into my bag.
“I’m sorry, I hope you weren’t waiting for me for too long!” I sighed and retrieved the characteristic green ticket, but stopped abruptly. Something was wrong. “Sir?”
The controller was trembling uncontrollably and sweating, breathing loudly. His cap was screwed on his head in such a manner I couldn’t see his eyes, his posture straightened as if his spine was an iron bar. I suddenly noticed the calmness of my environment, my heart panicking when the thought of being alone in the wagon crossed my head.
“Are you feeling well?”
I didn’t saw his lips move but guttural moans and mumbling were coming from his mouth. His arm extended abruptly and he presented me a shivering, gloved, hoof.
“Your ticket, please.”
I obeyed, by fear or out of habit; I will never bother to know. He brutally took my ticket and disappeared in the hallway, walking with exaggerated long steps; a sight that would certainly make me laughs if it wasn’t for the strangeness of my situation. It took me some time to regain control of my brain and I bolted out of my compartment, inspecting the place, my heart thumping against my rib cage as the distant noise of the machinery invaded my ears. I eyed the clock hanging above the wagon’s door. 01:43. What a controller was doing at this hour of the night?
---------
The rest of my travel passed without mishaps, except that because of an early snowstorm the track after Lurching Hooves was frozen and impassable, shortening considerably my journey in train.
Lurch was the last town before the Crystal Mountains, just at the feet of the frozen giants, and the inhabitants have taken advantage of the thermal source they offered. Because of this, the majority of the town was shaped to welcome the mass of tourist that came here every years, which meant that I didn’t had to search too far for a place to sleep. I had found a cheap hotel for the night and were currently admiring the natural landscape, a hot mug of chocolate in my hooves.
I have to admit, I was quite fond in the little town. Its slate roofs and twisted chimneys were a good change from the thatched houses of Ponyville, and the colors blended perfectly with the wild background of the town. I already had a general idea of the Crystal Mountains, thanks to my father’s travel stories, but to see them now, it wasn’t the same feeling. I wondered how it was possible for those masses of earth to simply exist, and the sight of them stretching to the sky, dressed in white, created in me a mixture of awe and profound respect.
“But enough of admiration! I have a journey to prepare!” I said out loud, as I unfolded the map I had bought at the hotel’s reception desk. If I was correct, my aunt’s village was situated in a comb, which meant that it could only be reached thanks to a pass just at the southwest of the village. It will allow me to walk around the mountain and follow a group of lakes, which source run just next to my final destination. After some time studying the map, I was confident in myself that my travel will be a success: the ground appeared to be affordable without specific equipment and the difference in height didn’t seem to be too high. There was just a little problem, the weather.
I resolved myself to ask at the reception for some information. Weather was a very important parameter for one who wanted to undertake a trip in the wild region of the Crystal Mountains, as it could transform a simple walk in a deadly survival journey, and I didn’t have the intention to die in the middle of nowhere.
I came down and presented myself to the reception, waiting patiently for the secretary to notice me. After a minute of polite silence, I coughed.
“Oh, it’s you again. What can I do to help you?” He did bother to raise his head from the newspaper he was reading, and shot me an annoyed glance. So much for politeness.
“I would like to know if it’s possible to take the pass, I’d like to go to Mataloup.” I asked. Stay calm Luna, it’s not wasted time!
“If you’re crazy enough and possess an hot-air balloon, yes.”
“I don’t have one. Why?”
“The region is blocked with snowstorms and there is an increasing risk of avalanche. If you’re not well-equipped, and I suppose you’re not, you’ll just walk to a painful and cold death.”
“For how long?” I still cherished the hope to complete my task.
“Until spring.”
“Spring?! But my aunt needs her medicines!” He didn’t answer and adjusted his newspaper. I sighed. What I am going to do? I thought for some time to hire somepony qualified and return to Ponyville, but it will leave me with no money for the train or for three months of hotel. Plus, the idea to go back to my previous life wasn’t very appealing. I paced on the red carpet of the hotel’s hall, conflicted in risking my life or finding a way to go back. And my aunt, I couldn’t wait too long…
Who cares? You don’t even know her...a mean voice whispered at my ear. No. I never knew if this peculiar thought was the help I needed to undertake my foolishness of project, or the fact that this travel was the only purpose of my life, but I soon raised my head defiantly in the direction of the Crystal Mountains, my heart full of my newly found resolution. I was going to climb to Mataloup, avalanches or not!