Unfortunately for me, my troubles didn't stop the rest of the world from existing. Appleton was still snowed in, and the Eternal Winter made the idea of a Harvest Season not exactly viable anymore.
In-between field work, I set about procuring maps. Appleton was barely a generation old at this point, with our location vague. Appleton only existed on maps from towns nearby that once directly traded with them, and Appleton the same. Now, Appleton was almost the only town out of what once was a dozen towns in a few days' walk still standing.
Time for grave digging.
I walked blind over old roads, pushing my senses deep beneath the snow to find frosted trees of yesteryear transition to frostbitten homes of a lost generation. I stopped to dig, methodically carving out circles until I could map out forgotten streets, blindly bouncing from rotten house to rotten house until I happened upon some variation of town centers, and dug out local information, news, and most importantly, updated maps of towns further away.
Blackbird only accompanied me on the first few trips, each spaced a week apart. The winds were so bad that any kind of controlled flight was a fool’s errand.
Once Blackbird was certain of my ability to navigate with a magnet stuck under my tongue, combined with my sense of the crumpled grasses long buried, he left me to trudge through the wastes on my own.
A few weeks in, Gladas pulled me aside to inquire about procuring as many maps as I could get my hooves on. Appleton's own maps dreadfully needed updating, where even maps from dead towns would be better considering how isolated we were now.
Thereafter each time I dug my way through the snow, I grabbed every unique map still safe from rot. This was a surprisingly high amount due to the cold sending every moth and most fungi into hibernation.
The small, short distance maps gave us detailed knowledge of local topography, landmarks that were mostly half-buried most of the time, and some height data. The larger maps gave us directions to other towns, and helped me prepare for future trips.
To my dismay, few towns were close enough to record the location of Sunny Pines. It was barely a generation old before this mess, similar to the situation in Appleton, but Sunny Pines was in a valley, further obscuring his location. With the snow shifting towards lower elevations, it was all but impossible for travelers to find my home.
I grit my teeth and left the ruined town center, climbing out of the tunnel I dug and began the long trek back to Plan P.
There were, surprisingly, a few settlements that still stubbornly clung on. Many have left in search of trade hubs, safety in numbers. There was no way anyone would believe a normal colt barely in his teens would be able to just walk miles without a large caravan train besides him. If I found said place during “day” hours, I had to dig a hole and wait for the gloomy clouds above to fade to darkness.
I couldn’t stay long. Even if I wasn’t on a bit of a time limit, the few lights that remained lit for a few extra hours was a painful reminder of what little tattered remains of hope I had left. I grabbed what maps that were left out of the open and ran.
Despite my efforts, the deepening cold forced me back to Appleton for increasingly longer stretches of time. The need for expanded food production was taking up much of my time, constantly refreshing the spent fields of the rotated underground farms. On top of that, I still had training with Gladas, and magic research in the Archives, though I doubt I got much of the latter done with my frayed concentration.
It took me two years before I walked through the gates of Haycenda Heights. “‘A city of trade and commerce,’” I quoted off the half buried sign. “Well, maybe once upon a time.” The rest of the city looked trapped in a bowl, where the residents had fought to keep the buildings from being completely buried.
Those efforts seem to have been carried out less and less, with only a few streets in the very center still with their cobblestone streets exposed. It was also in the city center where one might still find flickering lamp light.
As the storm-obscured sun began to set, what few ponies still braving the streets retreated to the flickering warmth of their homes. I pawed at the snow, snorting. I’m sorry, Mother, but I can’t stop now.
The moment the streets cleared, I strode down the snow banks and through the alleys. I drew a massive spiral, running by windows and glancing at the residence lit by their hearths.
Three loops in, I chanced upon a two story building with only a weak light inside an upper room.
Curious, I bounced off an opposing building to land beneath the sill. I winced at the thump my body made impacting the wall, but after a few seconds, heard no hoofsteps moving in my direction. I carefully hauled my head over the edge.
The moment I laid my eyes on the form beneath the sheets. A small smile cracked the ice sheets that formed over my face. Hey there, Evans. Its been a long, long time.
....
... You don’t look so good.