//------------------------------//
// Snowfall 
// Story: Snowbound 
// by An-Twan Star 
//------------------------------//

It was winter alright, no question about that. The day was cold but clear, without the harsh bite of wind that this time of year could bring.

That would come later.

Gilda slowly trudged through the forest, the crunch of snow underpaw and the creaking branches her only companions. She’d come out this way from her tiny hovel in Cloudsdale to try for her annual get-together with her old friend Rainbow Dash for Hearth's Warming Eve. Getting together around this time of year had been a tradition with them for a long time, but it had always been Dash that flew up to Cloudsdale to see her.

This time it had been her that’d made the trek, back down to Ponyville because… well, because she didn’t think there would be any more “getting together” if she didn’t.

Not after the last time she was here.

Meeting Dash, her annoying friends, the accusatory stares, the stupid party, the rejection by – and disappointment of – Rainbow Dash had potentially put an end to all of that.

The promise hurt the worst. The promise Dash had made that morning.

Gilda had managed to get the week off she needed without too much difficulty and the weather had cooperated with her, allowing her to make the flight to Ponyville in good time. Even finding Dash hadn’t been that difficult, not when she thought of where she might look.

The griffon saw Dash alright. Saw her with all her new friends, enjoying themselves outside, just like the rest of Ponyville was. Even from her far off position, Gilda’s binocular vision picked up every silent detail. Dash had her back to the griffon, hunkered down behind a snowdrift. The pony dragged a forehoof through the snow – filling the rim of her horseshoe with the powder – before smashing both hooves together, depositing the irregular shaped object on a pile of its brethren.

It was a snowball fight.

Beside Dash was another element: Rarity. She was fussing over the size and roundness of her single snowball, lobbing off a little bit, before placing some right back in the same place. Rainbow turned her head and shouted to her companion, who only tutted in response.

She’s wasting time, that's for sure. But she has the right idea, thought Gilda as she began making a snowball of her own. If she had anything close to a special talent, it was making frozen ammunition. When it was just her and Dash, they were always engaged in some kind of playful competition. If it was a race, the griffon was beat; wrestling, she drew even. But if it was snowballs, Gilda was unbeatable.

Instead of a big pile of clods, she preferred to craft a few good snowballs and end the fight with careful, deliberate shots. The fashionable unicorn appeared of a similar mind, finally moving on to her next projectile. Across the field from Rainbow – behind another snowbank – a brown Stetson hat popped up. Some kind of taunting remark was shouted, and the hat quickly disappeared from view.

Rarity nudged Rainbow, getting her attention. Laying out a plan, perhaps? Judging by the expressions, Gilda surmised that Dash was not taking it well. Dash always preferred head-on confrontations to careful strategizing in battle, no matter how many times Gilda had shown her that doing so was a bad idea. The griffon bounced her snowball in her talon. Dash would need as much help as possible to defeat her entrenched opponents. 

As expected, Dash didn’t accept Rarity’s plan and did her own thing instead. Gilda’s beak cracked in a grin; how little things changed after all the years. Balancing two snowballs on each wing, Dash suddenly snapped them forward and sent a volley at... Applejack, was it? Meanwhile, the unicorn, having been ignored, was taking matters into her own hooves by shifting her position for a throw. Rainbow popped her head up for a second to check her accuracy, earning a return snowball in the face from the orange earth pony.

A sharp laugh broke from Gilda’s chest as Dash went down. No, nothing had changed after all these years.

Seizing the opportunity of an exposed Applejack, Rarity took her shot.

Gilda rocked her talon backward to add her own snowball to the return salvo in the hopes of catching their chosen victim in a crossfire.

For a fleeting moment, she was behind the snowbank, alongside her best friend in the whole world, teamed up against a worthy opponent. The snowball flew straight and true, only to explode against the ground about a mile short of its target.

And like that, she was back by the northern treeline of Sweet Apple Acres, her fantasy nothing but.

She felt her wings slump as she watched their celebration, Rarity’s snowball having squarely taken out Applejack, clearly the last pony on that team. But Gilda did take notice when her antithesis, that pink “demon”, came down the plowed path towing a small concessions cart, with Fluttershy hovering slowly behind. Both mares’ had been victims of Gilda’s intense jealousy when the griffon was last in town five months prior. 

Gilda was constantly keeping Pinkie away from Rainbow with her scare tactics, but only because she was in the way. But bumping into Fluttershy in the town square triggered terrible memories about when Dash left her and Cloudsdale for Ponyville. Dash said it was purely for a position on the weather patrol, but Gilda felt that it was no coincidence that Fluttershy had moved there a year before. So when she ran into Fluttershy, the absolute worst side of her came out.

She lost her cool, the image that she had been trying to maintain her whole life, something she now regretted deeply.

Back in the moment, the six ponies were casually standing around the parked cart, sipping on whatever steaming hot drinks Pinkie had brought. Dash was the most animated, up in the air, gesturing at the sky while spinning in place. The ponies departed soon after, each off to do their own thing. But Gilda’s eyes were fixated on one as she shot up into the sky.

Now that those dweeby friends were out of the picture, she could fly up there and see if she was still held in regard. But this was also right above Applejack’s farm, and the farm pony would be an unwelcome distraction if she should happen along, not to mention if any of her other family members got involved. There would be no winners in that kind of confrontation, and Rainbow would likely take their side should it happen. It wouldn’t be the first time she went with the crowd.

There was also an element of pride. Both had parted ways while throwing ultimatums at each other – ultimatums that neither wanted to honor.

She hoped.

Gilda resigned herself to laying down and watching the weather masters at work. The Ponyville weather team, like their captain, was definitely fast, already having made a cloud layer that encompassed Ponyville and the outlying areas. Then the pegasi began flying a crosshatching pattern, agitating the clouds to start the snowfall. 

As the white stuff started to settle with and flying conditions soured, Gilda reflected that it was high time to head back to her boring life in Cloudsdale. She spread her wings for takeoff but found she couldn’t bring herself to go further. It was as if a strange, invisible weight had befallen her wings, keeping her grounded. Try as she might, the griffon couldn’t get so much as a flutter out of them. Her great brown wings just hung limply off her sides, hardly even lifting an inch no matter how much she wanted them to. With a sad, tired sigh, Gilda closed her eyes. The cold depression that had been crushing her heart had spread to her wings now, rendering them useless to her.

At least she was able to get them folded back up against her sides so she wouldn’t have to go through the indignity of dragging them along the ground. But if she couldn’t go back to her home just then, where to go now?

With another sick, tired sigh, Gilda turned away from the town and trudged aimlessly into the forest. The snowfall followed her, the soft, fresh flakes blanketing the land muffling her footfalls. A thick, moist fog was also rolling in, reducing visibility dramatically. Flying out would be even more difficult now, and getting lost on the ground was a very real possibility. Her wings felt just as useless as before when she gave them a twitch. No, no going back to Cloudsdale now. The moisture in the air caused her normally straight feather crest to droop, mirroring her glum state of mind.

But there was only so much wandering a depressed soul could take. Shivering to shed the fluffy white blanket that had accumulated on her back, Gilda turned to the nearest large tree and quickly scampered up its trunk, settling on a branch wide enough to support her weight. She lay amongst the dead branches, becoming almost as stationary as they were. As the snow built up on her back once more, she tried futilely to get her mind off what she was doing in Ponyville again and how worthless it all suddenly seemed.

With nothing better to do, she resigned herself to watching the snowfall. Seeing the delicate creations sifting down through the branches only served to remind Gilda of Dash and her friends -- laughing and playing in the snow -- oblivious to the ghostly griffon and her state. It also spoke of bridges burnt, and ties severed, lives sent adrift.

Gilda focused on one of the larger flakes as it drifted and settled on top of one of her curled up paws. The fluffy crystal only lasted a few seconds before responding to her body heat and melting over her knuckle. With a disgusted chuff, she flicked it off her paw.

She should just forget about the past, get her wings working, punch upwards through the clouds, and return to Cloudsdale. That’s exactly what she should do.

But what was there in Cloudsdale? Apart from a city that was indifferent to her struggles. A broom closet that she could curl up inside of at that crappy little bar that she lived and washed dishes at? The stares? The discrimination? The catcalls and lecherous sneers of drunken patrons? 

The forest was just as indifferent, but was also silent. It didn’t discriminate, and it didn’t have the high expectations of city life either. It didn’t care who you were or what species you were; your monetary value, or your special talent. Closing her eyes, Gilda decided then and there that if she couldn’t have the holidays with Dash, she could at least have them alone – without ponies.

Giving her wings a flick to clear them of snow, the griffon opened her eyes once more and stood on the branch. She shook her feathered head, too, and then gazed off through the cold and barren treetops. She listened to the rustling sound of the breeze in the branches and the quiet whisper of the snow and felt that maybe… just maybe, the snow on her body and underpaw wasn’t as cold as she first thought. Maybe a little bit more time down here on the ground wouldn’t be so bad. Cloudsdale would still be there when she finally got her wings working again after all. 

Gilda agilely turned about on the branch and climbed down to the forest floor once more. She dusted off her forelimbs and began to slowly meander deeper into the forest, not so much as sparing a single glance to the warm, well-lit town of Ponyville behind her.

The snow continued to fall, making quick work of her tracks and resting spot, filling them in and leaving behind nothing but ghostly remainders of their former selves.

Much like the griffon who left them.