A Lighter Shade of Gray.
By S. Park
The mill stood in a high mountain valley. It had to stand there, for only there did the river run down from the snow-capped peaks swift and strong enough to turn the great wheel. In spring, in fact, the water raged and roared with snow melt, cold and fast and terrible. Some years it tore the wheel away, smashing it to pieces as it carried it downstream. Then the wheel had to be replaced. But there was timber enough to replace it, for the woods around were full of vast evergreen trees.
In summer the ponies came and felled the timber, and took it to the mill, where the wheel ran the great saw blades that cut the logs into rough lumber, to be shipped down to the valleys below. The mill bustled then, full of life.
In autumn that life ebbed slowly away, as the river too ebbed, until it barely turned the great wheel at all. Then came winter, and the river froze solid. The wheel also froze, standing still and silent. The last of the ponies left with the last load of timber, leaving only the miller, who tended the millhouse through the winter's chill.
That winter was a particularly cold one. Storms came frequently and snow drifted high around the millhouse, until only diligent shoveling kept the door from being buried completely in frozen white. One bitter night, when the wind howled like a living soul, a stallion stumbled out of the freezing darkness and fell at the millhouse door.
Connie Pail almost tripped over the stallion when she opened the door. She looked down in surprise for only an instant, however, before moving to drag him inside. Nopony should be left out in weather like that.
Once she got him in she took a look at him. He was an odd one. A unicorn, but with the strangest horn she'd ever seen; curved and tinted rust red at the tip. The rest of it, along with his coat, was charcoal gray, while his long, tangled mane and tail were jet black. Strangest of all, however, was the fact that he had no cutie mark. He was clearly an adult stallion, but his flank was as blank as any foal's. Connie looked at him for a while, then shrugged and set about doing what needed to be done.
She was an earth pony, not a unicorn, so it took some doing to get him up onto her back. That was the only way to get him up the stairs to the warmth of the bedroom above. The saw room was warmer than the storm outside, but still cold enough for frost to form on the walls. Once the stranger was on her back she had no trouble carrying him. She was the one who bucked the logs into place for the saw blades all summer long. She was more than strong enough.
She tucked the gray stallion into her bed, since it was the only bed there. Then she sat and waited, watching him as he breathed slow and easy. The cold didn't seem to have settled in his lungs, which was good. After a while he started to stir. She waited by his side, watching. Eventually his eyes opened. They were green. Grass green, jade green, bright, pale summer green; many shades lighter than the deep pine green of Connie's eyes.
“Hello there,” she said.
He blinked at her. His brow furrowed with puzzlement. Finally he opened his mouth. “Hel-lo.” It sounded stilted and strange, as if he hadn't spoken for years.
“I'm Connie. Well, Conifer really, but everypony calls me Connie. Who are you?”
“Who...” The stallion looked even more confused. His eyes tracked back and forth as if he were seeking after some elusive memory. Then he shook his head. “I... No.”
“You all right, fella? No, that's a silly question. Of course you're not all right. I should go make some coffee, get a little warmth in you. You hang on, okay?”
“I don't... know. I...”
“Don't you fret yourself.” The stallion had started to try to sit up, but Connie gently pushed him back down to the bed. “Stay and rest, I'll get that coffee.”
Her little stove was in the bedroom too, there was nowhere else she'd have wanted that source of heat. Soon she had water boiling, and a spoonful of instant powder went into the cup. She stirred it, then carefully carried the hot mug over to the gray stallion.
“Here you go.”
He stared at it blankly, as if he'd never seen a cup of coffee before.
Feeling a little silly, but not knowing what else to do, Connie said, “You take it and drink it, like this.” She demonstrated, taking a sip. “I guess you can take it with your magic instead if you like.”
“Magic.” The unicorn's eyes went unfocused, and a spark sputtered at the tip of his horn. “Ah!” He immediately put both hooves to his head and cried out, as if the spark had burned him.
“Right. No magic. Well I don't have magic either. Here, just hold it.” She held it out to him.
He took it slowly in both hooves, and sipped as she had done. Immediately he made a face. “Ugh!”
Connie couldn't help it, she laughed. “Not a fan of coffee, are you? Okay then. I've got some tea too. I'll just take the cup back, and make some tea instead.”
The gray stallion nodded and handed over the coffee mug willingly. Connie sipped at it herself, no sense letting it go to waste, while she poured out another cup of hot water and set a tea bag in it to steep.
“Now while that's steeping, let's get to know each other a mite. I'm Connie, like I said. What's your name?”
He frowned again, and shook his head. “I don't... know. Can't... can't think of...” His frown deepened into an angry scowl.
“Can't remember?”
“Yes! I can't remember. I can't remember... anything.”
“Huh. Amnesia, I guess. You didn't hit your head, did you?”
“I don't know.”
“Okay then... Maybe you had some kind of magical accident. I guess that might explain why you're a blank flank at your age. If whatever it was could wipe a pony's memories clean like a spring cleaning rag, it could wipe their mark off the same way. Brr, that gives me the chills thinking of it. I wouldn't want to lose mine.” She looked at her own pine tree cutie mark, dark green against her white coat. It was the same shade as her mane and tail. “But here I'm nattering on again at you. Sorry, I've been told I talk too much sometimes. It's nice to have somepony to talk to though, it gets a mite lonely up here in winter.”
The gray stallion blinked at her in confused silence, but then offered a hesitant smile. “O—kay then?”
She laughed. “I'm glad you think it's okay, Mr. Uh... dangit, what I am going to call you, if you don't have a name?”
“I don't know,” he said again, sounding a little less dazed the longer he kept talking.
“Well... I've been thinking of you as 'the gray stallion' all this time, so I figure that'll do. I'll call you Gray. That okay with you?”
He nodded. “Okay.”
Connie hummed and sang as she swept the tiny bedroom. “Hmm, hmm friendship lives in our hearts, hmm, hmm burns, something, something apart...” Gray sat in bed and watched her.
“What are you singing?” he asked.
“A Hearth's Warming Eve carol. I never can remember all the words.”
“What's Hearth's Warming?”
Connie was sometimes startled by what Gray didn't know, which seemed to be absolutely everything. “It's a holiday, coming up in a couple of days. It celebrates how Equestria was built out of friendship, when cold winter and hate almost ruined everything. Ponies get together and spend time with families, and sing songs, and eat food, and there's a play they put on that tells the story. It's pretty nice.”
“Can you tell me the story?”
“Sure. It'll be nice to have somepony to celebrate with this year. Usually I don't do much. Doesn't seem much point, with there being only me. But with you here it'd be worth bothering with. Take the time to cook up something special, maybe. See if I can remember some of the carols, that kind of thing. And heck, we could make some decorations too. Pine boughs are traditional, we got lots of those!”
Gray smiled. “It sounds nice.”
Connie rose from the cot she'd set up on the other side of the bedroom to find the bed empty and the restless sound of hoofsteps coming from the mill room. She went down the stairs to find Gray up, pacing back and forth.
“Hello there, friend.”
He stopped and looked up at her with a little smile. “Hello.”
“Looks like you're feeling frisky this morning.”
“I was tired of doing nothing. Walking is at least something to do.”
“True 'nough. If you really want something to do you can help me clear some snow. It was coming down pretty good last night so it needs doing. You game?”
“I am indeed game, as you put it.” He smiled a little more.
“Lemme go get some shovels.” She fetched the snow shovels from the storage shed built on to the side of the mill. She handed one over to Gray, who took it rather awkwardly in his mouth. “Horn still not up to snuff?”
He shook his head, a flicker of anger on his face. She knew by now that he had a bit of a temper, and not being able to use his magic frustrated him. “Nevermind that. I've shoveled snow for many a year without magic. You'll pick it up soon enough, I'm sure. Come on.” She opened the door to reveal that there was indeed a new layer of snow. “Here, you watch what I do, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, sounding quite muffled around the handle of the shovel. Connie grinned and picked up her own shovel, then set to work.
Soon Gray pitched in beside her, awkwardly at first but with increasing confidence. He was fairly strong. Good and tall too, taller even than Connie was, and she was pretty tall for a mare. She found herself humming a catchy Winter Wrap-up song as she worked. Winter Wrap-up proper never came to these wild mountains, and the snow melt was still a couple of months away. But with the sun high in the sky and her friend at her side, she felt pretty cheerful about life.
Gray was soon humming along, working at her side with equal cheer. She liked that. She didn't mind her own company, but his company was good to have too. He was interesting to talk to, and not bad to look at either, even with his odd horn. She found herself wondering about spring, and what he'd do when the snow melted. Would he stay and help with the mill, or would he go down into the lowlands and maybe find where he'd come from?
Connie knew it would have to be Gray's choice, but she couldn't help but think that she'd like it if he were still here when the snow started to fall next year.
The mill wheel was groaning slowly into life. The sound reverberated through the whole building, vibrating the very foundations. The rest of the machinery hadn't been hooked up yet, it never was in spring, so the only thing that turned as the wheel began to move was the main shaft. Still it was an impressive sight. And sound.
“That is very loud!” said Gray, having to speak up to be heard over the noise.
“Yeah, I probably should grease it up a little more. The melt is really going now, though!” replied Connie.
“Does that mean we're going down to the lowlands soon?”
Connie sighed a little, and nodded. “Very soon. We're about out of food in any case. Gotta pick up more, and make sure everything's ready for when the summer comes and the lumberjacks get here. Lots to do.”
“I'll lend a hoof, just tell me what to do.”
“Thanks, Gray.”
Connie was pulling the cart as they came into Ponyville. Gray had offered, but Connie insisted. She wasn't going to let Gray do everything.
“Looks like we're here,” said Gray as he walked beside her.
“Yup. I'm headed in to the seed n' feed store first. You can follow along and lend a hand loading the cart. And...” She hesitated a moment before adding, “You should probably keep an eye out for anypony or any place that looks familiar. Maybe something will jog your memory.”
Gray nodded. His eyes wandered around the town, scanning over buildings, trees, and passing ponies. As they passed the library a purple unicorn mare came out the door, a small purple dragon perched on her back. She trotted briskly past the slower moving pair, on her way further into town.
Gray stopped in mid-step, one hoof still raised. His eyes were fixed on the mare. “Her...” he said. His voice was low, dark, almost hissing.
Connie stopped too, feeling her heart sink. He'd remembered. He'd remembered something and now he'd find his own kin here in Ponyville and wouldn't be coming back with her.
Then her heart skipped a beat. Gray started to change. He stood up straight, seeming to grow taller. His mane and tail began flowing around him like smoke, growing into huge black billows. His eyes flashed to red, the whites turning a sickly green. A horrible purple glow, wrenching and wrong somehow, began to stream from the corners of his eyes. It gathered too on his horn, blotches of twisted purple-black.
“Her,” he hissed again. Connie saw that he had grown fangs. They were bared in a twisted, hateful snarl. “Her and her dragon, they stole my crystal!” His cold, hard voice sounded nothing like the friendly if temperamental stallion she knew. Connie whimpered.
He stopped suddenly and looked at her. She cringed, expecting that horrible magic to strike her down. “Connie,” he said softly. The glow faded from his horn. “Connie,” he repeated, his voice sounding almost normal. Suddenly the glow was gone from his eyes too, and the sickly green as well. His mane and tail turned back into ordinary hair. He looked just the same height he'd always been.
Connie straightened. She didn't know quite what had happened. “Gray?” she ventured.
“My name's not Gray,” he said, shaking his head. Then he halted and looked back at himself, his eyes, still red even though they didn't glow any more, going wide.
Connie followed his gaze, and saw that his flanks weren't blank any more. They bore the image of a blood red crystal heart. “Wh-what is your name?” she asked, almost afraid to speak.
Gray looked at her, his brow furrowed in thought, for a long time. Then he smiled suddenly. “It's Grayheart,” he said. “So you were pretty close. I'm sorry if I frightened you. I remembered something, like you said I might. But... this place isn't my home, and these ponies aren't my kin. I don't think I have a home or kin any more.”
“What happened? What was that? You...”
“Come on,” interrupted Gray, still smiling. “We still have your feed and seed store to visit, do we not?” Connie felt very confused, but also somewhat hopeful. If he didn't have home or kin, maybe he would come back with her to help get ready for summer. And maybe she was crazy, after what she'd just seen, but it still made her glad to think she might spend another winter with him, instead of spending one alone.
“Okay,” she said, starting forward again with the cart coming behind. “We got lots to do.”
“Indeed we do.”
Epilogue.
“Gray! Hey! Grayheart!” Grayheart's head snapped up as Connie kept shouting.
“Uhm. Yes Connie?”
“You gonna lend a hoof here or what?”
“Of course, sorry. Just... first tell me, what are those?” He pointed a hoof at the glass jar on the counter of the seed n' feed store.
“Those? They're rock crystal candy.”
“Rock crystals?”
“Well, they ain't really rock, but they are really crystals, yes. Sugar crystals. I used to really love 'em as a foal. You want to try one?”
His eyes lit up and he nodded eagerly. “Yes please.”
“We'll take two,” said Connie with an amused smile. “Just put it on the order.”
“Yes ma'am,” said the big stallion behind the counter. He reached a hoof into the jar and pulled out two sticks covered in colored sugar crystals.
Connie took one from him and gave it a lick. Grayheart snatched his and bit into it eagerly. His eyes half closed in bliss as he chewed. “Crystals,” he murmured happily, through a mouth full of sugar.
Connie laughed. “You like 'em, hmm?”
“Mmm-hmm,” he said, still chewing.
“Well, if you do your share of the loading, I might see my way to buying us a jar to take back up the hill when we go.”
“Then I shall load with great diligence,” said Grayheart, with a slightly too toothy grin.
“Celestia Almighty, what am I getting myself into?” muttered Connie, but she said it with an answering smile and headed off to start slinging supplies and tools into the cart with Grayheart eagerly at her heels.