//------------------------------//
// Three Months of Winter Coolness: Part Five of Five 
// Story: Last 
// by Alan Smithee 
//------------------------------//


13 - The Zebra and The Princess



Sweat ran down Simon’s face as he tore a foot-long fish out of a hole in the ice. He slammed his catch into his pail, and sat on it until the frantic movement died down. Simon cringed and panted. He’d been fighting with the fish for five minutes, and before that, he’d waited more than an hour for a bite, and he was exhausted. Surprisingly, he was warm. He unzipped his coat, and pulled his arms out of the sleeves, letting the garment rest on his shoulders.

It was early March, Simon realized. It was natural that the weather was to warm up. The hole he’d fished out of was easier to carve than ever. On that thought, he decided to get off the ice. He tried not to look down at the pail as he gathered his things.

He set one foot down on the path he’d taken across the lake, and heard a tiny, almost inaudible crunch.

And he was very scared. He withdrew his foot and looked down. The ice was cracked. The freezing water underneath was a menacing black. He knelt down to his knees, placed his palm on the spot, and pushed down. His hand went through to the stinging, icy water below.

He stood up and twisted himself around, looking for an indication for what he should do. There was none, only untested ice blanketed in snow. He thought, and thought, and thought, and found no answers, until a spot of colour caught his eye. It was a Pegasus pony from Ponyville, passing directly overhead. He waved his arms frantically. The Pegasus didn’t notice him, and went about his business. Simon tried shouting, but only managed a weak shriek that seared his throat with pain.

The sun was getting higher in the sky; the day was getting warmer. He’d started out just after sunrise, the coldest part of the day. Simon’s stomach hurt. He looked around one last time, and saw a stretch of snow that appeared thicker than the rest. He dropped his gear, and raced over his fishing-spot. His body was trembling. He lifted his foot and paused. He counted to three.
One. Two…

“Do not take another step! Calm yourself. Take a breath!” came a commanding voice.

He looked up and found a cloaked figure standing on the edge of the lake. It lowered it’s hood to reveal an Equine face, marked with black and white stripes, and a mane styled into a thick mohawk.

“Do not move from where you stand! I will get you back on land!”

She traipsed her way along the edge of the lake. She looked down pensively at the ice and, after a great deal of thought, set her hoof onto it. She eyed the glassy surface carefully and worked out a path that wound around him, sometimes bringing her closer, sometimes taking her farther away. Simon began to feel cold again, and put his arms back through the sleeves of his jacket. After about five minutes, she was standing in front of him, smiling serenely.


“From the ice you wish to flee; I will guide you. Follow me”


She turned and began walking away from him. It took a few seconds for what she had said to register in Simon’s mind. When it did, he quickly gathered his gear and rushed to meet her.

The ice crunched with every step he took. It seemed every time he set his boot down, a pang of apprehension ran through him. He followed his companion so closely, whenever she stopped to consider which way to go, Simon would bump into her. His heart pounded, his breathing became rapid.

She turned on him, and said with authority,

“I must be calm to find the path
That keeps us from the water’s wrath
If you panic, we’re sure to drown
If you want to live, you must calm down”

She did not turn away; instead she continued to squint at him. The ice under them creaked. It was all Simon could do to not bolt off. He caught a breath, and forced himself to hold it. He closed his eyes. He counted to seventeen. His muscles eased, and his shaking lessened.

His guide nodded, and continued on her way. He walked on with a strict rhythm. No matter how uncertain he was of the next step, he forced himself to take it, and no matter how uncertain he was of where he stood, he forced himself to linger. He maintained a healthy distance from his guide, and he gave her all the time she needed to think. He trusted her completely.

After what felt like hours, they reached the edge of the lake. Simon stepped over the threshold of the lake, and was on solid ground. He toppled over into the soft snow. He panted. He lay there, face down, for five minutes, and was still.

When he looked up, he saw his saviour looking down on him, serene and apparently untouched by all that had happened.

He lifted himself to his knees, and thanked her the only way he could: He wrapped his arms around her neck and squeezed her tightly. His hands were still shaking.


“There's no need for thanks, if it's all the same.  
Do tell me, though, what is your name?”

Simon looked around and, finding no better way, stuck his finger into the snow and traced out his name in large, shaky letters. She read them and smiled.


She said, with a courteous bow of the head and forelegs,
“Zecora is happy to greet a new friend
Don’t be ‘fraid to call on me; I’ve always time to lend”

Simon bowed his head in return. Her countenance abruptly turned to one of concern.

“Simon, child, you are cold and shaken
Come back to my home ‘till your senses awaken”


Zecora brought him to the Everfree Forest. He hadn’t been in the forest since his arrival, almost four months prior. She lived in a cozy hut along at the end of a path that was all but buried in snow. The hike through the forest was difficult, and Simon had to sit down once he was inside. There was a fire burning, and the air inside the hut was thick with exotic smells.

Zecora removed her cloak. Underneath, she wore elaborate jewelry that told Simon she was separate from the ponies of Ponyville culturally as well as physically.

“Hang your wet things above the fire
Sit close, be warm and drier”

For the first time, Simon took notice of Zecora’s peculiar manner of speaking.  
Simon took off his outer layers, his boots, his socks, and his toque, and hung them on a string that stretched across the blazing fire. His shirt, pants and underthings were soaked through, but he did not take them off. He sat, knees to his chin, in front of the dancing flames.

Vapours rose from his soaked clothing. He focused on the fire, watching it intently. He rocked himself gently. He let his mind drift. He was taken back to the lake. He saw himself fall through the ice. He cringed and squeezed his legs tighter. He thought of Twilight, of Applejack, of Fluttershy and Rarity. He thought of his mother and father, of Max and Mimi. He thought of Shackleton, Galois, Gauss, Euler, von Neumann, and a dozen others. He saw their faces. He was in a broad and endless wasteland of ice, rock and snow. He soared above it. The vastness and emptiness of what he saw made him uneasy.  The further he went, the less he could see, and the more he dreaded what he ventured toward. But he could not turn away; there was no where else.

He saw a sign on the ground. It whipped by him more quickly than he could hope to read, yet he read it. Something stopped the name on the sign from reaching his mouth. There was blackness all about him; there despair without the faintest glitter of hope. Simon was trapped in horrible, painful nothingness.

And then the dreary weight was lifted from him, and the darkness, without any change, lost all its harshness. At last, the word escaped him:

“Vigilant” he said softly. He met the sound of his own words with no surprise at all.

“Yes,” came another voice, just as soft, “that was the name”

At exactly the spot he was facing, something in the uniform blackness moved. A vague, unseen light seemed to shine upon it, revealing its outline and giving it depth. The shape moved toward him, and as it did, the blackness within it’s outline seemed to drain away, and it stood before him in living colour.

It was a pony. Her body was the darkest blue that could still be somehow gentle, like the blue of a full-moon night. Her long, slender legs brought her exactly eye-to-eye with him; she seemed to drown him with her gaze.


“What would I find there?” he asked without surprise, or fear, or curiosity towards the apparition. 

“You will find darkness”

For the briefest of moments, his companion faded back into shadow, and again the blackness on all sides crushed in on him. The loneliness and hopelessness returned and smothered him.  She re-appeared just as quickly and the darkness relented. Though he felt shaken to the core of his being, he felt no goosebumps, no tingling, no chill in his spine. He was not gasping for air. For the first time, he became aware that he couldn’t see the big nose between his eyes.

With one great stride, he moved himself beside his companion, determined to keep near to her. 

He noticed her long horn, her wings, flat against her body, and her cutie mark: A crescent moon against a black sky. 

“You must choose whether what you seek there is worth losing yourself to the darkness,” she said seriously.


“If I’m the last human, then I must do what I can to preserve their legacy. There’s nothing I can lose that’s more worthwhile.”

“Isn’t there?”

The blackness around them gave way to rough brown wood. He recognized where he was immediately. In the middle of the room, Twilight Sparkle sat frozen, hunched over a short bed.
In the bed, Simon saw his own thin, grizzled face. 

“This is the night she found me,” he said aloud. He approached the tableaux, and circled around it.

He sat down across the bed from Twilight and looked at her. Her eyes, normally bright and alert, were red and heavy with fatigue. She looked at the sleeping Simon with uncertainty.. 

“She’s done so much for me,” he added with quiet awe. He reached out his hand to touch her muzzle, but it passed through her and she disappeared.

He stood up through a large wooden table. There he, Twilight Sparkle, and the Apple family were heaving a final collective sigh after a moment of wild laughter. The warmth, the comfort, the absolute perfection of that moment was one that Simon dearly wished could last forever.

Now he was keeled over in a fit of coughing during the Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant, and timid Fluttershy was beside him, placing a hoof gently on his back. A small comfort, but one that seemed to make a world of difference.

He was on his stool in the library. The pristine, white Rarity was inviting him to the pageant. His head seemed to hang limp from his shoulders, as though determined not to look at her, yet his smile was broad. Simon was happy at that moment, perhaps happy about the invitation.

“Are you sure you have nothing to lose?”

His companion was beside him again; they both watched the scene dissolve away.


“I don’t even know if I’m the last one.”

“Yes, you are.”

Simon turned to face her; she stared back with a serious look. Before he could say anything more, her face morphed into Zecora’s and he woke up.

“You’ve had about an hour’s rest,
Some food is probably for the best.”

Simon opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. Zecora bent her neck and nudged his pail toward him with her nose.

“You no doubt mean to eat this fish
It ought to make a mighty dish!”

He peered down into the pail. The dead fish looked up at him. Already he could taste the burned meat in his mouth, and he couldn’t keep his stomach from turning. He looked away.

“What’s this? Why the aversion?
Why else would you go on a fishing excursion?”

Simon dove for his bag and produced from it his tiny frying pan. He looked at her hopefully. She gazed back with her knowing eyes.


“I think I see the problem you face.
You need of meat, but you want of taste.”

He nodded his head vigorously.

“I may have ways of helping you.
Zecora knows a trick or two!”

She disappeared into the far corner of her hut. The room was too dim and smoky to see what she was doing, but he heard the tinkle of porcelain, and of something being ground. Meanwhile, he used his small knife to scrape the scales into the bucket. The warmth inside the hut was much better than cooking outside. He did his work slowly, and made sure he removed every scale. He placed his frying pan on the fire.

Zecora came back with a bowl of reddish powder in her mouth. She set it down in front of him.

“Sprinkle this, though just a pinch
and cooking your meal will be a cinch!”

Cautiously, he squeezed a little powder between his fingers and, when she nodded her approval to him, he scattered it onto as much of the fish as possible. He turned to the frying pan on the fire, and spat onto it. His spit sizzled and disappeared instantly. It was far hotter than he’d ever bothered to make it when working outside.

Moments after the fish touched the frying pan, the hut filled with the promising aroma of cooking meat. Within half an hour, both sides of the fish were flaky, and a beautiful shade of red.

He pulled the fish whole off the pan and after a moment to let it cool, bit into it. He spat a tiny bone into the pail. He chewed on it thoughtfully while Zecora watched.

He carefully put the fish down onto a wooden plate, stood, approached Zecora, and threw his arms around her in the tightest hug his arms could give.

They were interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Simon loosened his grip on Zecora and sat back on the hard floor, feeling strangely self-conscious.


Zecora walked casually to the door and opened it. A bright, cheerful, pink voice filled the room.

“Hi, Zecora! I’m here to pick up Simon! Is he ready to go?”

At the door was Pinkie Pie.

“Ah, Pinkie! It’s been too long!
What brings you here? Is something wrong?”

“Well…”

Pinkie reached a hoof out and dragged Twilight into view.

“Twilight was wondering why Simon hadn’t come back from his fishing, and I told her he was here. And when she said she didn’t believe me, I offered to bring her here to show her and here we are! Hi Simon!”

She waved at him. He waved back weakly.

“Hi Zecora,” said Twilight, “I see you’ve met Simon.”

“Indeed, we’ve had a wonderful time. 
I’ve never seen a creature of his kind”

“He’s my… he’s a human,” said Twilight.

Zecora nodded. She turned to Pinkie Pie.

“Pinkie, take Simon and start on home.
I must speak with Twilight alone.”

“Okey-day! C’mon, Simon!” she said, and cartwheeled out the door. Simon watched her go humourlessly and turned to Twilight Sparkle.
 
“Go on. Zecora and I have to talk.”

Simon plodded out the door.

“What is it, Zecora?”

Zecora laid down on her belly and gestured Twilight to do the same. The zebra’s normally pleasant demeanor became serious. 

“In youth, our elders told stories of ages long past,
Of creatures who were not as strong and not so fast,
They had no magic, nor wings, nor skill with the land,
But they had great power, and they were called Man.”


“Guuuh?” was all Twilight could say. She stared at Zecora with her mouth open. Zecora shook her head sadly.

“If he is a man, then we’ve much to discuss,
How does this long-gone creature walk among us?”

Twilight shook the astonished expression off her face, “Well, I found him here. In the Everfree Forest.” she waved her hoof around, “He says he came here from outer space.” she waved her hoof toward the ceiling, “He left the Earth a long time ago. I met him the day after I met you.”

The zebra nodded, “I’ve heard it said, in these stories of ours, that Man could reach out and touch the stars.”

Twilight put her hoof to her chin, “But this is amazing. You know about humans!” She stood up, “Simon’s been struggling to find any mention of them since he arrived! I have to bring him back so you can tell him what you know!”

“No, Twilight Sparkle, this is not for him to hear,
For deep inside Simon, there may be something to fear.”

“What?” said Twilight, “No, that’s impossible. Not Simon. He’s harmless. He’s…”

The First World War, said the voice in her mind.

“... He’s… something,” she finished. Twilight laid down on the floor again, ready to listen.


“The humans were a violent lot,
Many lives lost, many wars fought,
But though each other they treated poorly,
The ‘lesser creatures’ were treated cruelly,
Zebras and ponies and other children of Creation,
Were all laid under the heel of man’s domination.”

Twilight’s face was pale. She thought about what she’d heard, and shook her head.

“No. I know Simon. He’s not evil.”

“To you, I know, he is no stranger,
Perhaps you can keep him from becoming a danger.”

With that, Twilight Sparkle rose silently, and left Zecora’s hut.





Princess Luna entered her sister’s chambers. The white Pony Princess was lying by the fireplace, looking into it thoughtfully.

“I have seen him, sister,” Luna began.

Celestia smiled warmly at the news. “What do you think of him?”

“The boy doesn’t know his own feelings.”

“But he does have them.”

“Yes. He cares very deeply for his Ponyville friends, when he remembers to think of them.”

“He’s definitely a human being, then,” said Celestia, and chuckled.

“How can you laugh at such things, after all that you’ve been through, after what you told me about…”

Celestia cut her off with a hoof, “Forgiveness, my dear sister. He is long gone, and he is not Simon. Simon has a soul. You know it to be so.”

Luna looked at her hooves, “I hope you’re right to trust him.”

“I have faith he will do what’s best for Twilight. After all, what’s best for Twilight is also for him.”

“He’s thinking of going to Vigilant.”

Celestia’s head shot up, and she stared at her sister with wide eyes.

“I hope he doesn’t act on those thoughts, for his sake, and for Twilight’s.”




 14 - Twilight Sparkle


Twilight crept down the stairs. She knew her way well in the dark. She lowered her hoof a step, which met with a loud creak. She stopped, and listened. She sighed; she hadn’t been heard. 
At the bottom of the stairs, the dim silhouette of Simon at his desk. 
Twilight’s ear twitched. There was no doubt that Simon was humming. 

It was quiet, and his voice broke occasionally, but he was definitely humming a simple tune.

“Simon!”

Simon jumped a little. He turned and looked at her, bewildered. An awkward silence ensued.

“You were humming!”

Simon raised his eyebrow and shook his head slowly.

“You were! I heard you!”

Simon looked into her eyes. He made a low grumbling sound deep within his throat. His voice shot up an octave and became a wild cacophony of scratchy, ugly noises. He stopped, and coughed violently.

Twilight’s ears drooped. She lifted a hoof and almost touched his knee. 

“I’m sorry, Simon.”

Simon waved his hand and leaned back. He stretched his arms, but suddenly stopped and whirled around to write,

What was I humming?

Anxious to relieve the dashed hope she knew the human must be feeling, she struggled to remember the song she’d heard seconds before.

Hum it. Please

She did her best to get the notes right. Simon listened, and when she was done, wrote on a fresh sheet, 

Lyrics:


and filled the sheet with words. Twilight took it with her magic. The words were short and simple. She hummed the tune again, trying to match it to the words.

Simon smiled and nodded. Twilight took a breath. Quietly, she sang,


”You are my sunshine.
My only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are grey.
You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.
Please don’t take my sunshine away.”


She looked up over the sheet and saw Simon hunched over his desk. He was snoring quietly. She watched him for a moment. He was tranquil. 

Her horn lit. A blanket and pillow appeared behind her. She gently lifted his head, slid the pillow under, and lowered it. She draped the blanket over him and, quietly as she could, she moved up to his sleeping face. She pressed her cheek against his and nuzzled him.

“Goodnight” she whispered into his ear, and quietly made her way to the stairs.




Edited by Admari
Emotional Support by Hustlin Tom