The Age of Wings and Steel

by DSNesmith

45. Miss Cranberry

“Cranberry! Wait!” Inger thrust his hoof after her, but she had vanished into the snowy darkness. He stamped a hoof in frustration.

Behind him, Rye roared. He threw off the bundle of supplies he had carried from Saddlestead. He kicked the bundle, sending pots and pans flying out into the snow. “Gods damn her.”

Inger gave a resigned sigh. “Come on, we’d better find her before she gets lost in the storm.”

Rye kicked his frying pan as hard as he could, sending it soaring into the distance. “We had the hammer. We were this close.” With another roar, he grabbed the bundle and hurled it away, spilling food everywhere.

“Rye.” Inger put a hoof on his shoulder. “Calm down. We’ll need those supplies for the return journey.”

“What return journey?” Rye smacked Inger’s hoof away. “What’s the point in going back with nothing? You want a better view of Canterlot while it burns? Front row seats to the torching of the castle? By now, we’re so far away, we’ll get back just in time to dig out my father’s body from the rubble—” he choked, turning away.

“We’ll think of something,” said Inger.

Rye shook his head. “No. No, I am not leaving. Not without that hammer.”

“Well, we’ll work on that once we’ve found Cranberry.”

“She’ll be fine.” Rye scowled.

Inger gave him an uneasy glance. “She didn’t look fine.”

“Then go,” spat Rye. “Go after her. By the time you get back, maybe Eberhardt and I will have a plan to fix this disaster.” He turned around and walked away from Inger.

Inger moved to follow, but paused. He bit his lip, then turned and took to the air. Cranberry needed him more than Rye right now.

He flew into the storm, battered by wind and snow. Even in the darkness, he could see the white snow below him. He scanned the ground, looking for a patch of darkness that would represent an Aurelisk cloak. It was colder tonight than it had been on their entire journey so far, and the outside of his armor was so cold that it hurt to touch. Breathing hurt, like having a roll of sandpaper in his throat.

Just as he was about to give up and start flying west to search, he spotted a tiny spot of black-on-white beneath him. He plunged through the biting wind to land in the snow. He trudged toward the dark shape, shielding his head from the falling snow.

He found Cranberry’s cloak caught on a rock, blowing in the wind. The cloak’s clasp appeared to have broken free. Inger felt a chill. He grabbed the cloak in his teeth, pulling it from the rock. It flapped violently in the wind, struggling to escape. He began searching around the rock for hoofprints. Soon he discovered a set of tracks that led further south. He followed them deeper into the storm.

It was only snowing lightly, but the wind took up the slack. Inger winced as a fierce gust whipped his face. He pinned the cloak with a hoof and freed his mouth. “Cranberry! Cranberry, can you hear me?”

Only the wind howled in response. Inger squinted against it, trying to see through the snow. “Cranberry, where are you?” He forged onward, pushing through the storm. A bolt of lightning above revealed the surrounding wasteland, and he caught a glimpse of a huddled shape in the distance.

He found her lying in the snow, curled into a ball and shaking with sobs. She had covered her head with her hooves and was already blanketed with snow. Inger walked up beside her, feeling like his heart had turned to lead. He sat beside her in the snow, bringing the cloak up. He brushed away the snow and pulled the cloak over her. She didn’t seem to even notice him.

“Cranberry?”

At the sound of her name, she gave a low moan. “Go away.”

“Cranberry, it’s me, Inger.”

“Just leave me alone.” She pushed at him with a hoof, her face wrenched with agony. “Just let me f-freeze to death out here.”

Inger looked down at her sadly. “Cranberry…”

She shook. “I can’t go b-back there. Not after what I did.”

“Don’t talk like that, Cranberry.”

“Why not?” she choked out between sobs. She huddled into a tighter ball. “I screwed up everything.”

“Well… yes, you made some mistakes.” He leaned over and pulled her mane away from her face. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. At his touch, she flinched and pulled away. “But everypony messes up sometimes, Cranberry.”

She took a heaving gasp and shook her head. “Not like this.” Her face wound up in pain. “I just destroyed my homeland for a stupid book.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Cranberry.” Inger rested a hoof on her shoulder. “I saw how much it meant to you.”

She looked at him, finally. Her eyes were swimming with tears. “I just… I just wanted to… to make sure that our history wasn’t lost.” She cringed. “But it wasn’t worth mur—murd—”

Inger’s face hardened. “Don’t even say it. Whatever the griffons do is not your fault. You haven’t hurt anypony.”

“I hurt Rye,” she said with another sob. “He hates me. All of you do.”

“I couldn’t hate you if I tried, Cranberry. And Rye doesn’t, either. He’s just… upset.”

“Upset?” She looked at him with anguish. “Inger, he called me a murderer.”

“Cranberry—”

“And he’s right,” she wailed, leaping at Inger and wrapping her hooves around him. She cried into his shoulder. “Inkpot, Apricot, Windstreak, they’re all g-going to die, and it’s all my f-fault.”

“Your sister’s going to be fine, Cranber—”

“She’s going to die, just like mom and dad, and it’s all b-because I cared more about some dusty old p-pages than saving them.” Cranberry burst into a new fountain of tears.

Inger hugged her back, at a loss for words. She leaned her head against his, her shoulders still heaving. “I know you and Rye think I don’t… don’t take this seriously enough. That I d-don’t care about the griffons. B-but I do. I know we have to stop them. I just… I just… whenever I think about the war all I see is that cold, empty house, and that half-finished sweater, and—” She choked. “I don’t want to come home to that ever again.”

Inger squeezed her. “You won’t. We’ll get the Nordponies to help us, one way or another. I promise.”

“Without the hammer? How?”

He gently pulled his head back and looked into her eyes. “I’m not sure. But who could be more qualified to find a way than Canterlot’s resident expert on Sleipnordic culture?” He gave her a grin.

She smiled through her tears. “That might be a little out of my league, Inger.”

He bumped her chin with a hoof. “We’ll figure it out together, then. Come on, let’s head back to the others.”

Cranberry’s face closed off again. “I c-can’t. I can’t talk to him. You saw the look in his eyes.” She hiccupped. “I’ve never seen him like that before, not even the time he got rejected from the corps. I don’t think he’s going to forgive me, Inger.” She sniffled. “I’m not sure he should.”

“Just give him some time to cool down, Cranberry.”

She looked ready to burst into tears again. “He’s the only friend I’ve ever had…”

Inger gave her a questing look. “What about me?”

“You…” Cranberry’s cheeks turned pinker than usual. “You’re better than a friend, Inger.”

He felt himself blushing. He looked down and pawed the ground nervously with a hoof. “I, uh…”

“Inger?”

He looked at her, beautiful and sweet, sitting there as the snow fell into her golden mane. Her cheeks glistened with freezing tears. “Cranberry, if—mmf!” She had leaned forward and kissed him.

His eyes widened in surprise, but then he closed them and sank into it. They stayed locked together for a brief eternity, feeling the warmth of each other’s touch and the cold wetness of the snow on their skin. Neither of them had any idea what they were doing, but earnestness made up for experience. When they finally pulled apart, Inger blinked and breathed deeply. “Um.”

“Oh, my,” said Cranberry, blushing fiercely. “I’m sorry—I thought you, uh…”

“Yes, I do,” he breathed, leaning in again.

A minute or so later, they nuzzled together under the falling snow. Cranberry gave a contented sigh. Inger smiled. “Feeling better?”

“Chilly.”

“I’ll bet Eberhardt and Rye have a fire going back at the campsite.”

Cranberry tensed for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll go.”

“Don’t worry,” said Inger, stroking her mane. “Rye’ll forgive you, even if it takes some time.”

Together, they marched north, seeking the door. The snow blew past them, billowing their cloaks out like sails. Neither of them spoke, simply leaning on each other and enjoying the silence. The crunch of snow under their hooves was the only sound.

Inger was relieved to see the glow of a fire up ahead by the mountainside. As they approached, they discovered one of the tents already standing. Eberhardt was busying himself with the second.

“Eberhardt!” called Inger. The Nordpony looked up to see them both, and nodded. Inger frowned. He couldn’t see Rye.

They finally reached the campsite, both hustling to the warm flames. Cranberry sighed as the heat rolled over them both. Inger looked over at Eberhardt, who was hammering a tent peg into the frozen earth. “Need help?”

Eberhardt shook his head. Inger looked around, puzzled. “Rye’s normally making dinner by now. Where’d he go?”

Eberhardt licked his lips and stood up from the tent peg. “Rye… refuse to leave without hammer.”

“Oh, no,” said Cranberry, her eyes widening. “Don’t tell me he—”

Eberhardt pointed at the mountainside. The door was sealed, but Inger could see the tiny shape of the bundle of supplies beneath the keyhole. He felt his stomach drop. Eberhardt shook his head slowly. “He say, if not returning in one day, to go south without him.”

“And you let him go alone?” Cranberry looked furious.

“Somepony had to guard camp, yes? You two off in snow, only myself left.”

She shrank back, guiltily. “Well, we can’t let him face that guardian creature all on his own. Come on, let’s go after him.”

Eberhardt shook his head again. “Only Breivikk can open the way. Rye is… how do you say it?”

“On his own?” offered Inger.

“All alone,” said Cranberry, staring up at the mountain.

Comments

[Steel Resolve]

Rye being awesome, the kiss finally happened, and how do they get out of this mess...

[Silver Wind]

Awww Inger and Cranberry are adorable~
Heres hoping Rye is okay~

[Jake The Army Guy]

This story gets better with every dad-hum chapter.

DSNesmith, never stop being awesome.

[EricKilla]

Hopefully this shit can be salvaged.

[Cedric Bale]

Rye's going to end up making some kind of Deal With the Devil to get that hammer back from the guardian, isn't he?

[Borg]

Remember, Cranberry, the lesson given unto Blackjack on the occasion of her third suicide attempt: the more dire the consequences of your mistakes, the less free you are to die; you have an obligation to do an equal amount of good, or at least try, and until you have done so you cannot quit.
That's traditional pony mythology, right? I always get confused between traditional mythology and things that could not possibly be known.

[Thread Necromancer]

And no "romance" tag? troll.me/images/xzibit-yo-dawg/nigga-please.jpg

[PaulAsaran]

Well, at least this event finally has her paying attention to the real reason they're there. Only took her nearly killing every pony in Equestria to do it.

I don't care what anyone says in her defense, Cranberry's still on my shit list for the time being. I hope she does something truly amazing in the future to make up for it.

[Golden Fang Ryu Shenron]

Oh Rye, please don't do anything stupid....