//------------------------------// // Interlude: Winter Pt. 1 // Story: Luna Wants a Windigo // by Lazauya //------------------------------// “How dare you humiliate me infront of everyone like that!” “I-I’m sorry! Pl-please, I didn’t mean it!” “Moron.” The mare struck the colt with a swipe of her hoof. “You put the salad fork on the wrong side! Everyone thinks that I’m some kind of a hick!” “I-I didn’t mean—” “Clearly you did mean to, or it wouldn’t have happened!” she said through gritted teeth. “I….” “Now, tell me what we did wrong.” “W-we, I-I mean, I p-put th-the wr-wrong fork on th-the wrong s-side.” “Good. Don’t do it again you ungrateful little bastard.” She shook her head. “I swear, colts are useless.” “I-I’m sorry!” “Good. Go to your room.” The colt stood by the bottom of the staircase, plotting his escape. I can go... I can go.... He felt a tightness in his chest, and pranced anxiously in place. I'm doing it! Without another thought, he dashed out of the pink house through the open door, not daring to turn back or wait. The tired colt rested in a back alley. A fence blocked most from passing straight through it, instead making them take official streets. A pile of debris that ponies had been too lazy to pick up laid in a heap by the building. The colt sat up against the dirty bricks, grime finding it's way onto his coat. A faint rummaging was heard from the debris on the opposite side of the alley, and the colt shot up in shock. Another sound resounded from the pile of rubble, and the colt backed into the wall. The colt again heard the rustling coming from the pile of scraps, and cowered closer to the wall. Rubble turned up as something stirred in the back alley, and the colt could feel his muscles tense up as he stared wide-eyed at the trash. Tight breaths barely escaped him as his heart raced in morbid anticipation. Maybe it won’t notice me, he pondered desperately. After what seemed like a short lifetime, a small figure burst it’s way through to the top of the pile. Nibbles of garbage adorned the small creature’s light blue coat, and it feverishly tried removing them with brushing motions of it’s head. The colt held his breath. The light blue creature’s eyes lit up in the shadow of the dim alleyway, and the colt could tell they were scanning the area for something. Please don't hurt me.... Please.... It squinted as it looked out to the street. No, it’s… it’s a pony… the colt thought. But it’s not…. The pony-oid creature finally managed to turn it’s head to the colt. He scratched at the ground under his hind-hooves, trying to dig a hole into the dirt. “Please, don’t hurt me, please! Please!” The blue creature simply tilted it’s head in confounded question. What is this thing? the colt thought quickly. Wait…. “...winter spirits that feed off fighting and hatred; the more hate the spirit feels, the colder things become...” No…. “N-no! Please! I don’t hate her, I swear I don’t, please! Please!” The windigo reached the retracted child, an aura of winter flowing off, almost like a light fog. It took a step closer to the colt, seemingly scrunching it’s face in confusion. It brought it’s face to the colt’s neck. And to the colt’s surprise, it rubbed his neck with the side of it’s face. It’s cold body made the colt shiver in shock. “W-what’s going on?” The creature didn’t respond, and instead continued rubbing its head and eventually its neck against the colt’s. The colt stepped away. The windigo’s rubbing was stopped abruptly. It looked at the colt with bewilderment, and again trotted up to him Soon after, it continued rubbing its neck on the colt’s. “Stop! Stop! What are you doing?!” the colt shouted in agony. And again, the windigo gave no response. “I don’t know what you’re doing and I’m not sure if I should be scared or not and I’m a little scared so stop please!” The colt jumped back again. This time, the blue creature wore an utterly perturbed look on its face. And then, as if an idea struck it with a baton, it bounced its head in realization. The colt’s horrified frown deepened. The windigo jumped up on the colt’s back and his knees gave out. “Please, stop!” he cried. But the windigo’s little smile only grew, if only but a small amount. It again continued with it’s relentless rubbing. “Stop! Stop!” The colt began to break out in giggles. The windigo continued, silent and stoic. The colt only laughed more, his discomfort welling up in his chest, tightly packing into a boulder of angst. The creatures touch was chilling, but soft, almost like a brisk Spring day, with all of the foliage of mountain slope in bloom. The little bits of litter on it’s fur scraped up and smashed onto the colts, giving him a disgusting sensation. What’s going on? I don’t like this, I don’t like this! “Stop, stop, stop!” the colt shouted. “Stop!” The colt kicked off the windigo with his hind legs, and scurried to turn up on his hooves. He ran as fast as his stubby, tired legs could possibly carry him. He had to make amends. He knew that he had almost been sucked of life, and he didn’t want that, no matter what it took. I don’t hate her, I don’t hate her! “You little bastard! You better not run away again!” “Y-yes m-ma’am!” the colt managed to squeak out through his aching jaw. “Go up to your room and think about what you did! You could have gotten us in trouble!” “Y-yes ma’am!” I didn’t mean it, I don’t hate her, I don’t hate her, I…. What do I…. I love her! I love my mother, I do! I don’t hate her, I love her! The colt gave a smile to his reflection. It’s sincerity was unapparent. “I love my mother...” the colt said silently and painfully to himself, “I do….” He stared into his own eyes. The ripples in his silver irises looked indecisive. I love her, and I don’t have to worry about those things ever again. The colt slumped down onto the wooden floor of his barren room. He laid his head down, silently meditating. A tear nearly escaped the corner of his eye before he quickly wiped it away. I don’t get it…. I don’t get it… he repeated. “Why me?” he said under his breath. He laid in wait for something to save him, but it never came. But that was okay, because he loved his mother. I do love her, I do…. I do! I do love her! Shut up, I love her! I love her! I don’t want to die, I love her! As he sulked, a creature skulked. Its presence outside its natural habitat was only known to a select few, and it’s antics known to none. It floated outside the small, solo window in the colt’s depressingly empty room. As it peered in, it saw a lone, topless vanity by the north wall, and a rusty bed frame by the south. The cracked mirror of the once elegant piece was propped up beside the dresser. The colt laid his head down in peaceful rest by his disfigured reflection. The windigo's curiosity overpowered it's innate call to action and it watched the colt intently. The colt still sat in his same position, unmoving. The windigo, growing restless, tapped on the window, holding a hoof up to the glass. The colt seemed to ignore the sound, though the windigo could see his ears perk up. The windigo tapped on the window a second time, before it simply gave up and floated ethereally through the rough glass. Hearing the sound a second time, the colt turned his head to look at the source. “No!” the colt shouted quietly, jumping away from the window with a look of utter terror. He ran to the door, but the crafty windigo stopped him in his tracks. He backstepped, bumping the wall with his rump. “Please, I don’t hate her, I love my mother! Please! Please!” the colt sobbed. The windigo flew over to the colt, a scrawny smile creeping onto it’s lips. The colt shook in fear, the thread of tension growing more stressed as moments condensed into seconds. The windigo materialized, lightly feathering it's way to the ground. It's astral existence collided with the physical plane, yielding a horizon blue coat and a form of pony, not unlike what the colt saw in the alleyway. Thoughts and solutions raced around in the colt's fickle psyche; he was unable to think about any single idea for too long, for the fear of leaving him preoccupied and more vulnerable than he already was. The colt felt as if he was about to go into cardiac arrest from the glare of the creature alone. It's faux smile looked deceivingly sweet, and it made each step with the grace of a predator cornering it's prey. The windigo crept closer, the seconds seeming to further coalesce into entire hours. Finally, the creature stood directly in front of the colt. It went on with the same, eerie action as it had in the alley: obscenely rubbing it's head on the colt. Without any pretense of thought the colt struck the windigo with a swat of his hoof, and the being recoiled in shock and pain. The colt was shocked. He simply could not fathom why the creature looked hurt and stunned. This was one of the ancient, sinister evils of a time so long ago that Princess Celestia, the immortal alicorn of the sun herself, had not even been conceived. And yet it felt pain. He swore that he saw a sad scowl on its muzzle. The windigo was quick to react with a smack of it's own. The colt's head flung to the side, and he held his hoof to the new mark. The hit hurt, but he was far more confused. The windigo didn't seem to want him dead. It's just... she's just... a little filly.... But.... I... It... she hit me.... He was still on guard, but he felt less fearful for his life. And it was just... just rubbing my fur.... Why? The utterly baffled colt held still and mute while the windigo stared at him with a deep frown. Did I.... Did I make it—her... angry? “I... I'm sorry..!” the colt tried to amend. The windigo's frown didn't soften. The colt was worried. He wanted to please this creature, no doubt, as he had heard about what it could do in the Hearth's Warming Eve play. The last thing he wanted was for a windigo to be mad at him. “Uh.... You can.... You can rub my fur... I guess... I-I mean, if you want to....” the colt blushed. “I-I'm sorry!” The windigo only frowned more, clearly not understanding anything the shy colt had said. The colt steadily grew more apprehensive as time ticked by. Yet, the windigo made no advances towards the colt. What do I do? I don't know what to do! It's mad at me and I don't know what to do! The windigo still glared at the colt, shifting its head slightly. After a few moments of silence, she calmly took a step towards him, seeming to ignore their former disagreement. “I-I-I—“ The colt was cut off. The windigo continued with it's incessant rubs, a grin now evident on its muzzle. The rub of the creature still felt alien and strange to the colt, but he felt it was a small price to pay for his life. He was unnerved, but ultimately relieved. The colt's skin felt cold under his fur, the cold body of the windigo cooling him down. “W-when are you... g-going to stop?” The windigo did not stop to consider what the colt said. “Please.... Please stop...” the colt sighed, “I-I guess it's not like you understand anything I say anyway.... “H-hey.... you're dumb!” he snickered. The windigo's ears shot up in recognition, and the colt would swear that his heart stopped for a moment. “Oh, you're back,” the colt said with a start as he looked up from his bed. He walked over to window, where the windigo had entered the previous night. This time, he opened it for her, letting the warm summer breeze flow into his room. The windigo flew into the room, circling the colt. It still held it's smile. The colt stared out the window of the classroom, something else besides the brilliantly shining teacher apparently catching his attention. The mare in the front of the room noticed, unconsciously glancing at the distracted colt throughout her lesson. She could see that he used a pensive expression when scrutinizing the sky, as if the profound nature of the universe could be found in some wispy constructs created by pegasi. Finally, she spoke up. “Is there something a matter, Astatine?” “N-no ma'am, I’m sorry! I promise it won’t happen again!” The rest of the class made hardly audible giggles. “It’s quite alright. Would you mind seeing me after class?” A few whispers popped up from around the room. Astatine’s expression fell like a stone. “O-of course, ma’am!” “I-I’m sorry, ma’am, I won’t do it again!” “Astatine, it’s perfectly fine. You don’t have to get so worked up,” the teacher said soothingly. “Y-yes ma’am!” The patient teacher sighed. “Please, Astatine, calm down. You’re not in trouble in the slightest. Alright?” “Y-yes, of course…” he said quietly and unsure. “Now, I know this doesn’t usually get an answer out of ponies, but is there something wrong? You’re a good student, and I’ve never seen you so distracted. You know you can talk to me about anything, don't you?” “Uh—yes, ma'am, b-but nothing is wrong, I promise!” “Astatine, calm down. Please, just sit down and relax. I'm not mad at you. You don't have to be so anxious, remember? We've had this talk before.” “I'm so sorry, I'll—“ he stumbled before he was cut off. “Astatine.” Astatine's mouth hung open slightly, and he grimaced. “Astatine, you don't have to be sorry. I'm always here for you if you ever want to talk about anything, alright? I worry about you.” “W-worr...” Astatine tried to say, without apparent reason. The mare held a sad expression as she stared at her student. I hope I'm not being too forceful, the teacher thought. “Okay, Astatine, but if you ever need to talk, I'm here.” “Uhm.... Okay, Ms. Joy,” Astatine said as his frown was replaced with an expression of indecision. “Now, are you sure everything’s alright?” Astatine only nodded hesitantly, not wanting to look at his teacher. “Okay, then, I'll see you tomorrow,” Ms. Joy said with a warm smile. “Wai—“ Astatine said under his breath. “Yes?” the astute teacher asked. “N-nothing....” Astatine opened the door to the pink house on the corner quietly, with an unusual smile plastered on his face. The mare, upon hearing the door, rushed into the lobby to greet her guest. But she was unnerved when she saw the smile on her son's face. “What are you so happy about?” His expression degraded. “N-nothing, ma'am....” “No, tell me. I'm curious about why you could be so happy.” “I-it's nothing, ma'am! I promise!” “Ponies aren't just happy about nothing.” “I-I-I—“ “Spit it out!” she swatted the colt. “I-I was thinking of a funny joke!” he blurted out. “I-I'm sorry, ma'am, I won't do it again!” he said reflexively. The mare squinted questioningly. “So what's the joke?” “It's uh.... Uhm....” “You don't really have a joke, do you, you little liar?” “I-I do! I promise!” “Tell me it! Now!” “W-what do you call—I mean n-name a windigo...?” The mare furrowed her brow. “What?” she managed to ask with a tone of patronization and confusion. “W-windy....” “What?” The colt simply swallowed. “That's a terrible joke, idiot.” “I-I'm sorry....” “Well, now I know that you didn't inherit my sense of humor.” “I-I'm sorry, ma'am....” “Whatever, go to your room.” “Okay....” The colt laid on the floor in front of the vanity, just as he had on that night. The windigo came just as it had all of the evenings before. And this time, the colt could feel winter.