//------------------------------// // I // Story: We Are Born From The Mist // by NeverEatTheLemonsAlone //------------------------------// The storm howled like a wild beast, buffeting the small winged shape as the unforgiving wind tossed it back and forth, threatening to slam it down to the jagged, rocky peaks that loomed below. It’s mouth opened in a yell, but the ravenous gusts snatched away the words before she herself could hear them. Gritting her teeth, she kept flapping furiously, forcing herself against nature’s wrath, until finally, she was beaten. She furled her wings and dropped like a stone between the mountain peaks, only catching herself a few feet from the ground in a sheer, jagged pass. There was little room for the wind between the cliffs, and the mare felt herself shivering. Though she was long used to the cold, that said nothing of enjoyment; she still found herself despising it as much as any other pony might. Following the narrow pass, she eventually emerged onto a broad plateau, nearly thrown off of her feet by the wind tearing at her exposed sides. As she had for so many days before, she squinted towards the northern horizon, but nothing could be seen past the immense wall of threatening storm clouds that blotted out the sun and moon alike. The storm had emerged suddenly. She had gone from clear flying above the Northern Mountains to the raw, rampaging forces of nature in only a few minutes. As much as she tried, the storm was far too heavy to fly in, and only the weight of her worn armor and the rusted spear mounted to her back kept her rooted to the stones beneath her hooves. The lightning crackling through the sky above her cast the dim mountains into flaring white light and the rolling of the thunder boomed around her, bouncing around the mountains and setting her teeth on edge. In the distance, a curtain of fierce, heavy rain swept across the sky, drawing closer with every second. Sighing fatalistically and accepting that she would be getting very wet and very cold, she stood and let the downpour hammer against her body. Shivering, she stood for a moment, then continued trudging onwards. With fortune, she would find some sort of a cave or shelter from the furious weather. Her luck held that day. As she reached the opposite edge of the plateau, the mountain reared ahead of her, the peak puncturing the clouds thousands of feet above. Nestled in the massive chunk of jagged stones was a small cave that slanted gently downwards. She plunged in without a second thought. It was far too cold to be exposed in the open. Some sort of warm draft seemed to float upwards from the depths, but she was content to stay in the main chamber of the cave. Out of her saddlebags she drew a thick blanket and, removing her saddlebags and cold, wet armor, unslung her spear and draped the cover around herself as she watched the rains pound the plateau. What little of her midnight-blue fur was left showing was plastered to her skin by the rain, its insulating effects long gone. Her mane, though usually a light ash-grey, was far darker than usual; it hung around her withers, loose, without any form of tie. Reaching back from her saddlebags, she withdrew a piece of yellowed paper, which she unfolded carefully upon a patch of dry stone. Uncovering the magical candle that she carried, the flame burst to life with a cool blue light, illuminating the sheet. Upon it was a simple map, dominated by an oblong space labeled Equestria in messy, sprawling script. Her hoof traced a line up, past the boundaries of the fledgling kingdom, into the many leagues that stretched beyond. Some were labeled—Gryphica, Hippocampa, The Draconequus Triumvirate—but much of it was completely unmapped and unexplored. A tight-lipped smile came to her face as she softly tapped a point a few inches to the north of Equestria, in a chain of mountains labeled as the Sleipnir Range. “I suppose that’s where I am.” She muttered to herself. “The last time I saw the Nimbus Ring, it was headed directly north. If it keeps moving, and there’s no real reason for it to stop, then it’ll come in direct contact with the Barren Sea.” Her face scrunched up thoughtfully. “Why the Barren Sea? You can fly the Ring anywhere; it’s the perfect cloud fortress.” Staring intently at the map, she once again tapped it, this time a few more inches to the north. “She could’ve stopped it in Gryphica. They’re a lot like the old pegasi, after all. In fact, that place is the most likely.” Confident in her conclusion, she shoved the map aside, settling down for a rest. Storm flying was tiring business, and she needed to be rested tomorrow to fly as fast as possible. Breathing deeply, she gradually melted down into the velvet embrace of sleep, enchanted candle still burning in endless flame. Sometime during the night, the rain stopped and the wind no longer blew quite as hard. As Hurricane slept, the night took on an eerie stillness. Silence pervaded everything, and though it was still frigid, movement stirred on the plateau. A mournful howl rang off of the distant mountains, followed by another, then another. Soon, they began to draw together, converging upon the sleeping pegasus. Hurricane wasn’t sure what woke her. Was it the sudden stillness? Was it the long, loud howls? Or was it something else, an indefinable sixth sense earned and paid for in blood and battle? Regardless of what it was, something woke her, and her eyes snapped open in the darkness. Standing in the entrance to the cave was a massive wolf, and if the howls that still rang out around in the darkness were any indication, it certainly wasn’t alone. The mare’s ears drooped. It was far too close; before she could reach her spear, it would be on her, and if it caught her in its jaws, she was as good as dead. So instead of doing the expected thing and going for the weapon, she decided to forgo weaponry for surprise. Blasting forward with impressive speed, she bucked the wolf in the nose as hard as she could. As it staggered backwards, she bounced off, landing on all four hooves just beside her spear. Gripping it in her right forehoof, she smiled grimly. “Come on then, doggy. Let’s play.” With a ringing war cry, she launched herself at the bewildered canine, the keen point centered upon its throat.