1
January 7th, 1008,
This place is too quiet. Too empty. It’s driving me nuts. Usually, even at night, there would be lights on and idle chatter. Some of the night-workers would come in for a small break and a mug of cocoa.
But for now, the workers avoid my house, as if it’s turned into a place of bad luck. Or maybe they think I just need some privacy.
They’re right.
The sun’s been up for hours now, making the snow on the ground sparkle like a sea of miniature diamonds. I can’t remember the last time I slept - has it been a day? Two or three? All I know is my mind is sluggish. I perceive everything in slow-motion, as if the very winter is slowing everything down.
The bed looks so warm, so inviting. I want- no, I need sleep. Especially by tomorrow night. But how dare I sleep when mom and dad are somewhere, scared? All because of me?
I think I’ll go for a walk, instead.
-Snow Storm.
2
Snow Storm plodded along with a thin crowd down a sidewalk, not particularly noticing where she went. The air was crisp and clear, and the sun shone brilliantly, hanging lazily in the sky. The collective voices of a hundred ponies babbled ceaselessly around her, all congealing into one great white noise which entered one of her muff-covered ears and just as swiftly exited the other.
The day wasn’t particularly colder than any other day, but she had bundled up in extra layers. She wanted to wander aimlessly and not be seen. Only her eyes could be seen after she had finished dressing. She liked it - no one would pay her any mind, or even recognize her. There wouldn’t be any awkward questions that she didn’t want to deal with.
The entire city knew that the Oranges had gone missing by now, and if Snow chose to, she could pick out various conversations concerning the fate of her family. It only served as another reason to block it all out.
One voice she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she wanted to, was one inside of her.
It wasn’t the voice she associated with her brother, however; that one had come with the suit. This voice had been with her for far longer. It was the voice that told her Frost’s death was her fault, that she should have done more to help. It was the voice that said she could take the suit, learn to fight, and wreak her horrible revenge on those actually responsible.
This voice was her own guilt, and it had spent years honing her into a weapon. It kept her going through the training she had endured, filling her body when she felt as though she could no longer go on. It carried those heavy buckets of water, sloshing as they swayed back and forth and drenching her, from the mountain village and up the innumerable steps to her Master’s school. The other students, for he had taught anypony who wished to learn, would stop and breathe; some even crumbled altogether.
The rest of them were only there to be there; she had an actual purpose, and it drove her.
The guilt worked with the trauma to keep her voice away for those years, but in her head it was screaming. She’d almost hoped that her guilt would dissipate over time. It only grew more intense, however. On her first day of training, it was just a simple voice speaking at normal volumes. By the end, with her hooves cracked, her back aching, and her body covered in a fair number of bruises, that voice was screaming in unbridled fury. It became louder at night when she lay in her bed, the suit she would one day wear snuggled up against her like a companion.
For all that voice had done for her, she was afraid of it. She had almost come to depend on it, and had learned the hard way just how easy it was to indulge in it. In that village, under tutelage, she was relatively safe. There was no one there but herself with which she could indulge herself. As a result, she had punished herself more often than not, pushing herself harder than she’d needed. But it was still only her.
That night with Bolt Buck, however… she indulged again. Only after he had called out for his own mother, crying in a fetal position with a broken jaw and fractured ribs, did she realize just how bad that voice could actually be. Part of her tried to tell herself that he deserved it, but nothing could justify such a brutal attack.
It had been yet another incident to compound onto her guilt, as if it were some self-sustaining beast that was feeding and growing no matter how much she tried to sate it.
It finally, finally began to quiet down after the incident with Bloodshot. She had found her niche in the world, had more or less successfully accomplished her obsessive goal, and the proceeding months had seen her doing right by the city. The Red Hoof still existed, but she almost became content in her place, and the guilt slowly transformed into a positive driving force.
And then her adopted parents were taken away. Her closest friend betrayed her. The guilt came screaming back and hit her like a brick to the face, settling deep in the bottom of her gut and coursing its way from there as if it were a malignant sickness.
It’s all your fault! The words buzzed around her head constantly, never giving her a moment of respite. The worst part was, it was true. If she hadn’t become the Mare do Well, none of this would have ever happened. Life would’ve been different; better, even. She would’ve eventually discovered her special talent for fighting--life had a funny way of bringing about such inevitabilities--but it would have been far different. Her folks would still be home, safe and sound.
It’s all your fault! She could take any blow and keep on going, but the truth in those words threatened to tear her apart from the inside out. She could feel the weight in her gut struggling to sink her into a depression, but she struggled back, refusing to let it drag her down into what felt like Tartarus itself. If it beat her now, the Oranges would never come back and the Red Hoof would win. More importantly, Abacus would win, and Snow could not let that happen. She would find a way, even if it meant being a puppet for now. She’d grin and bear it, and it would only make her own eventual victory that much sweeter.
A funny thought struck her as she trudged aimlessly along: Abacus had said no Guards, naturally. But she never said anything about not ‘interrogating’ some of the Red Hoof’s higher-ranking lackeys. She decided she’d pay a little visit to some of the hotspots she was aware of once Abacus was done with her. As long as none of them were too injured, the Red Hoof wouldn’t retaliate. Not as harshly as otherwise, at least. If he went too far, he’d lose what little control he had over her. She’d become a mare with nothing left to lose, and such creatures were often the most dangerous.
I hope I’m right about that, at least…
Something ran into her rear, pulling her back to reality. She was knocked forward by the impact, barely keeping her balance. A figure ran past her, chased by futile words of protest and a haughty, thin-faced mare.
“Give me back my purse this instant!” she demanded uselessly, huffing and panting as her trotting slowed to a stop. “The nerve of some ponies! Lower-class swine!”
Snow Storm sighed, wondering whether it was worth the effort to help this particular mare. The Guard could just as easily be nearby, anyway. It wasn’t her problem.
You can’t pick and choose how and when you want to help, sis. It’s all or nothing.
Why should I bother? I’ve got more important things to worry about than somepony’s stupid purse.
I can’t believe you’d ever say that. What would mom and dad say if they saw you refusing to help?
That was apparently the kick in the rump she needed. She bolted down the sidewalk, taking care with every footfall not to slip on the icy cement. Her red scarf billowed out like a small cape as she wove her way through the meandering crowd, prompting most of them to snap out of their own musings and become aware of the real world. Most of them scoffed and shot her dark looks for the rude interruption of their thoughts; the rest cheered as they saw an apparently good samaritan chase after a thief.
Either way, it took her mind off of everything else.
“Give that back!” she demanded, closing the gap between herself and the thief. He turned his head, the purse string clamped firmly between his teeth, and gave a triumphant sneer before dashing off to the left and into the busy street.
Yells of protest and profanity filled the crisp winter air as carriage-pulling ponies had to suddenly stop themselves. Hooves slipped on random patches of ice left in the road, causing them to lose their footing and crash into each other, turning the street into one large roadblock.
The streets began to flood with pedestrians rushing to aid the sudden traffic jam. A pair of Guards swooped down, one of them blowing a whistle. Snow Storm snuck her way through the crowd and across the busy street, galloping down the sidewalk and continuing her pursuit.
Shouldn’t have worn so many layers, she thought, shaking her head. Her breath was hot against the scarf covering her mouth, and her clothes began to stick against her sweated body, causing her white coat to become matted.
You caused that wreck just now, you know. This is what you get for trying to do good. He wouldn’t have jumped into the road if you hadn’t chased him.
Shut up! I’m tired of you!
She spurred herself harder, nearly catching the thief’s tail. He turned suddenly, catching her off-guard as he galloped down an alleyway between buildings. Snow skidded to a halt, her rear-end going into the air momentarily as her front legs firmly planted themselves. She turned around, bolting down the same stretch of alley, grinning as she saw it was a dead-end.
The thief stood there for a moment, looking for some possible escape route but finding only a wall of brick. Finally he spotted a fire escape clinging to the side of one of the buildings, but before he could bring its ladder down, his mysterious pursuer tackled him to the ground. He clawed his way across the ground, but she had a firm grip on his tail. He lashed out with a back leg, feeling one hit connect with her muzzle. She made a noise as the hit connected, but still held on. He tried to kick her again, but this time she caught his leg and pulled it back, getting a locking grasp on his waist. “Get offa me, ya nut!” he commanded, trying to roll around to shake her off. It was no good - she was clamped tightly on.
“You! Down there!” They both looked up, seeing a pair of Guards galloping down to their location. Snow Storm saw that they were both unicorns - one was obviously male, his steel-grey face looking hard and stoic. The other stood about a foot shorter than him, this one a mare. Her coat was the burnt-orange color of a sunset, with a black mane that was slightly wilder than her counterpart’s. Both wore long bodysuits beneath their armor, keeping them warm on even the harshest of winter’s days.
Snow released her mark as they approached - if he tried to run from Unicorns, it’d be over. The larger Guard, a Lieutenant, she saw by the ranking engraved on his armor, focused his attention on the thief, first taking the purse away from him and then keeping him pinned to the ground with his magic.
The other Guard came up to Snow Storm, her face denoting a seriousness that only rookies can mistake for absolute professionalism. Snow had a feeling this one could be a stick-in-the-mud.
“Cadet Amber Shield, Dayguard, first shift,” the Guard said, putting on an impressive tone. “What happened here, Miss…?”
“Snow Storm,” she replied, wondering vaguely whether the rookie would know the name or not. Apparently not; Amber Shield offered no reaction that Snow could see. Good. “As for what happened? This thief grabbed some mare’s bag on the fly. I chased him.”
“I see…” Amber levitated a notebook near her own head, writing on it as Snow Storm spoke. “And do you make a habit of chasing after petty crooks?” Her tone was casual enough, like a soldier asking a civilian, but Snow felt her eye twitch at the question.
What does she know? Stop, you’re being paranoid. “I try not to,” she replied, careful to be diplomatic in her response. “But I’ve had to do it a few times before. Punks trying to take from the fruit stand I work in the summer.”
“Understandable, though risky,” Amber said, putting the notebook away. “I suppose that’s all I need to ask you; you may go as you please.” She said it in a thoughtful tone, putting almost no condescension into her words. This one might just be my new Guard buddy… Snow thought.
“Thanks. How’s the traffic jam doing?”
“Getting cleaned up. Nopony was seriously hurt, thankfully.”
“Thankfully,” Snow echoed, letting out a measured chuckle. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.” Behind them, Lieutenant Murdoc had the thief on his feet and was leading him away. For a brief moment, Murdoc’s eyes locked with Snow’s, and he seemed to give her the smallest of nods. He knows.
Amber shrugged, a small smile lighting her face now that the formalities were over. “Wasn’t your fault. Who knows what these crooks will do, you know? Oh shoot, I gotta run. Try to be careful - crook catching should be left to the professionals.”
I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Snow’s subconscious said coldly. “Yes ma’am, I’ll remember that,” was what she said instead, keeping the snark out of the comment.
Amber turned to leave, taking a couple of paces away before she stopped. “Say…” she muttered, looking back at Snow Storm. “Ever think about becoming a Guard? I mean, we saw you tail that guy for half a block. We could use more ponies who actually bother to stay fit.”
“Me?” Snow let out another chuckle. “No thanks. I run after fruit thieves and purse snatchers. I’m too chicken to go after the dangerous stuff.”
“Well…” Snow could see a blush rising in Amber’s face. “If you ever change your mind, just come down to the Barracks.”
“I’ll keep it mind. Stay safe!” Snow offered up a clumsy salute, which Amber returned before heading off after her superior.
3
The day seemed a little brighter to Snow Storm as she continued her walk, now shivering slightly as the adrenaline drained away and her body baked inside of her clothes. The dark cloud hanging over her head had gone away, and the incessant voice of guilt had been muted, at least for the time being. Helping clean up the accident had mostly silenced it, and despite her brooding earlier, it had felt good to go after a tangible target, instead of fighting this shadow war with the Red Hoof.
She reached an intersection, realizing with amusement that she had subconsciously walked all the way to Market Street. The street itself, wider than average to accommodate the long, snaking trail of merchant stalls, was filled only with carriages making their way through the city. The sidewalks, however, were packed, and the sounds of the city came rushing at Snow Storm. Hundreds of voices filled the air, all mingling into one large gob of static noise, and this time she didn’t bother drowning it out.
For once, she even wanted to be a part of it.
Though the stalls were gone, packed away until springtime, various businesses lined the streets seemingly from one end of the city to the other. Bells rang as doors opened and closed; various aromas could be smelled wafting out of restaurants, bakeries, and florists.
Dad was planning on buying a shop here this summer... The dark cloud threatened to return as Snow’s thoughts drifted to her adoptive father, probably scared and confused somewhere, all because of her-
Stop it! she scolded herself. It was no good to dwell on it. She did wish that he had gone and bought the shop earlier, however; she could at least steal into it for a bit of warmth and a nap. Being back at home felt far too lonely, and her mind kept playing tricks on itself as she tried to sleep. They know who I am, they’ll just grab me when I’m sleeping, too.
Not to mention that just the thought of sleep spurred her guilt into overdrive. She thought she could write about such things in her journal, then immediately remembered that she already had.
“Urgh,” she muttered aloud. “My mind just keeps running in circles…”
“That just means ya going crazy.” She recognized the snarky voice behind her immediately: it was the eldest of the Rind kids, the leader of the little gang they liked to call a ‘family’. She walked on, deciding the best course of action would be to ignore them, lest she drive their heads into the sidewalk. So much for not being recognized...
“Hey!” The leader of the three reached his hoof out, grabbing at her hindquarters. “We ain’t through with you yet! We got business to settle now that mommy and daddy aren’t here to protect you!”
She bucked out instinctively, nailing him in the chest with both of her rear hooves. She spun around as the other two advanced, flanking her while their brother staggered backwards. That’s fine. Come on, boys.
“Nopony does that to our bro!” the one on her left said, snarling. Suma was the middle of the trio in terms of age. He was also the tallest, and loved working out just to show off to the mares. The other Rind, Valen, was almost a pity-case to Snow. Being the youngest, he was as brutish and uncouth as his older brothers, but only because of their influence over him. Few were the times that Snow ever caught him alone, where they could hold something considered a civilized conversation. If she could’ve snatched him away just to save him from himself, she would’ve.
Valen Rind hesitated slightly as he marched on Snow Storm’s flank, seeming to have lost the internal struggle between defending his family’s name and becoming a decent pony. The oldest one caught his second wind, catching up to his brothers to try and gang up on the lone mare.
Snow stepped back, lowering her head like a predatory animal. All around them, the traffic of pedestrians continued on, barely giving the brewing situation more than a cursory glance. “I’m really not in the mood, guys,” she growled, swaying on her hooves slightly. Better make this quick, she thought, shifting her eyes rapidly between the three of them. Exhaustion's catching up.
“Well now, that’s too bad. ‘Cause we are! Right, boys?” The younger two nodded, with Suma showing his teeth in a malicious grin. “Get her!”
The eldest one swung first, sending his hoof flying at Snow’s face. On any given day she could have easily blocked it, but her mind was weary and her body sluggish from the chase earlier. A half-hearted block and her scarf lessened the inevitable blow. Her cheek went numb, she felt a tooth or two rattle inside her skull, and her lip split open. He went to hit her again, but she caught his hoof, sending her own right back into his face. Her result was far better as she felt his nose break, immediately spilling blood from both nostrils. Suma Rind came around and clipped her in the foreleg, inadvertently striking the scar where a crossbow bolt had shallowly lodged itself. She hissed, staggering backwards as the nerves around the area exploded.
Before Snow could retaliate, a harsh voice cut through the afternoon air. “And just what do you think you’re doing?!”
The three Rinds stopped dead in their tracks, Snow Storm looked for the owner of the voice, and all around them the crowd stopped, turning their attention towards the fiasco.
An old stallion stood outside a door, his weathered face set into a deep frown. As he marched towards the scene, the Rinds backed away and looked quickly between each other.
“I cannot believe my own eyes! My own grandchildren, ganging up on somepony! A mare, no less!”
“B-b-but grandad-” The oldest brother flinched as the sire raised his hoof threateningly.
“Don’t go sassing back to me!” he said coldly, his emerald eyes blazing. Snow Storm’s face formed a lopsided grin - Rind or not, she liked this one. “Didn’t my own son teach you useless gits any respect? A’course not, why would he? Too busy with his enterprise to swat you brats on the rump. You don’t ever attack a mare!”
“You don’t know her!” Suma piped up now. “She could take on all three of us and more! We were protecting ourselves!”
“Shut it! ‘Protecting’ yourselves, my wrinkled rear end! I don’t ever recall a three-on-one as ‘protecting’ yourself!”
“But-”
“Shut! It! Tuck your tails between your legs like the mutts you are and get back to the homestead!” They turned and bolted as he advanced on them. Once he was sure they were gone, he went back to Snow Storm, extending his hoof out. “Julius Rind, at your service m’lady.”
“Snow Storm,” she said, grabbing his hoof in response. Instead of a normal shake, he brought her hoof up to his lips and kissed it. Unable to help herself, Snow let out a small giggle. With the spectacle over, the crowd moved again, going about their daily lives.
“Ahh I know who you are!” His face seemed to brighten for a moment, but it turned dour just as quickly. “I’m very sorry to hear about your strange situation.”
“You are?” It came out before she knew it, and she winced as she said it. Good one, girl.
“Yer, I like to think I’m the last Rind with something resembling decency. But what’re we doing out here? Come on into the shop. Let’s get warm and have us a sit-down.”
* * *
“Mosley used to work for me, y’know,” Julius Rind said, pouring Snow a tall glass of orange juice. It tasted bland to her, but she wasn’t about to insult the sire’s hospitality. “Back when I ran the family business. I was a strapping stallion and he was still in school, a pimply-faced young buck working in my grove and trying to earn a Bit.”
Snow let out a small laugh, trying and failing to imagine her dad as a callow youth. Her face had gone numb. Her lip was swollen and sore, and every so often it would trickle out a tiny amount of blood, which she would dab at with a napkin. Worse was the knot in her shoulder, which felt stiff after the flaring nerves calmed themselves down. She made a mental note to wear some kind of patch over it from now on.
“He has himself a knack for the citrus, I’ll say that. ‘Sir, this row isn’t ready quite yet’, he’d say. And I’d shoot right back, ‘They look the same as any other row. Get plucking!’ Oh we had that argument many, many times. He caved in, always with this grumpy face. Of course, what does some kid know about oranges that I don’t? ‘Til one day, when he bucked right up and challenged me. ‘I’m not working this row,’ he had said. ‘I’ll make you a deal, sir. Leave this row alone for just one more week. If I’m wrong, kick me off the grove yourself.’”
“So, what happened?” Snow asked, leaning forward now and taking the occasional sip of her juice. The old sire chuckled as he reminisced the past.
“He was right, of course! They barely looked different, but they ripened just a bit more. And when it comes to fruit, every little difference in taste can help. Now, though… there is no taste! None at all!”
“Mm, he told me there was a falling out he’d had with your son. Something to do with some swindlers…”
“Swindlers!” Julius laughed out loud at that. “It’s a perfect word! Yer, Mosley was quick to rise through the ranks… what ranks could exist in an orange grove in the first place. I took him on as a consultant, you see. But it was getting later in life and I wanted to do more. I figured, between him and my boy, the Rind Family Grove couldn’t go wrong! And then those accursed Flim Flam brothers reared their obnoxious heads. Wanted to sell us this contraption that took the work out of it all! Mosley was against it right away, but my son… Well he was swayed by their flashy little song-and-dance routine. Mosley left, disgusted with the whole thing, and set out to make his own grove where you could still get a real piece of citrus fruit. Took a good number of my workers with him, including that sweet Annabelle. After all that, he became successful, and my once-mighty empire is now struggling. If we’d just drop the damned machines and go back to Mosley’s ways, we’d be real competition.”
“But…” Snow cocked her head, looking at the sire confusedly. “Can’t you do anything about that? You are the… er… no offense, of course…”
“Yer, I’m the oldest, so I should be the head of the family. But it’s… things are complicated now, y’see. And I’m almost phased out completely. Thinking about just leaving for good sooner or later, retiring in a peaceful little town where I can have my own little grove and be away from all this nonsense.”
“I never got the chance to express my condolences, y’know.” Snow didn’t like the look on his face now. He seemed older than he was a minute ago. His eyes looked tired, and his expression suggested he was doing another bit of reminiscing, this time about something not-so-good.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“Your brother.” He popped a tangerine slice into his mouth, his expression as bitter as his brand of fruit. “I tried, oh believe me I tried. Soon as I heard and not a second after, I was at your doorstep. I couldn’t believe it. Those two never had kids because they just didn’t have the time, and there you both were, dropped onto them without warning, and you all managed to make it work, and then one was gone forever. As soon as Mosley saw it was me, he slammed the door right on my face. I don’t begrudge him that, and I never will. Our families have been on the verge of feuding for years and years. I sent the largest arrangement of flowers that I possibly could… I’m not sure if they were ever accepted.”
Snow could feel her lower lip begin to tremble. She took a large swig of the juice to stop it, and muttered, “There’s a gorgeous bouquet that mom keeps in the kitchen.”
“Yer, I can only hope that’s it.” The old sire sighed. “Sorry to bring this up, I guess it’s all old news now. But back then, I was afraid…”
“Afraid?” Snow cocked her head at that. “Of what?”
“Why, I was afraid my own boys mighta done it. An ambush gone wrong. I lived with that for so long, never bringing myself to ask them outright if they’d did it. Apparently they hadn’t… newspaper was all aflutter when that cold case finally got piping hot again. Completely unrelated, thank Celestia… er, no offense.” He offered a half-smile as he echoed her words from earlier.
“No worries, sir. And they even got three out of the four who did it, so there’s that.”
“Four out of the four,” he corrected her, and she looked up, trying to put on her best innocent expression.
“Really? Only three-... well, two were arrested. The really big guy… I remember him, he was really scary. I heard that the Guards…”
“Yer, but the fourth one turned into a stool pigeon. Helped the Guard and this Mare do Well and everything. Fancy that!”
“Fancy that, indeed,” she said, and chuckled lightly. The back of her mind was abuzz, particularly with the idea that this old sire knew a lot more than he let on. Somewhere inside of her, a renewed sense of determination was pushing back against the depressing hopelessness from earlier. It was a moment of weakness, that’s all. Don’t let it happen again. “Well… thanks. I was feeling pretty down before, but… well you’ve given me a lot to think about, sir! And I even have an idea!”
“Oh, do you now?” He smiled at her. “And just what idea is this that you’ll be kind enough to tell me?”
“I think, when mom and dad are returned safely home, you should come over and clear the air.”
Julius Rind bellowed out a gut-busting laugh, making the rest of his patrons look his way. “Is that so?! Are you sure you just don’t wanna see two grumpy stallions in a shouting match?”
“Quite sure! Dad will listen to me.” Her blue eyes flashed impishly, causing Mr. Rind to laugh again.
“Boy am I glad I didn’t have any daughters. I’d be wrapped around their hoof, wouldn’t I? Well m’lady, I’ll take you right up on your offer.”
“I’ll see that you do.” Snow stood up, stretching and feeling her young bones creak. “I never thought I’d say these words, but, thanks Mr. Rind. Especially for saving me back there.”
“Think nothing of it, dear. I can’t stand to see a bunch of punks gang up on another pony. Especially when it’s my own kin doing the ganging. Sometimes I’m disgusted to share this name.”
Snow was heading to the door, but she stopped for a moment, turning her head back. “Valen,” she said.
“Eh? What about ‘im? Can’t get anywhere without a leash to tug him on.”
“He’s the decent one. Keep him from his brothers, take him under your guidance.”
“You think so?”
“Yes, sir. He just needs some help, that’s all.”
“You might just be onto something there. I’ll see what I can do. Meanwhile, take care of yourself, young lady! It won’t do to have you be a complete wreck when Mosley and Annabelle get back!”
“I will, sir. I promise.”
She strolled out of the Rind family shop, truly smiling for the first time that day. She’d win, she told herself. Against all the odds, she’d have to win. If it meant bending over backwards for now, so be it.
As she left, she didn’t see that the old sire wore his own grin. Nor did she notice him wishing her the best of luck on her hopeless crusade against the Red Hoof.