Mottled Shadow

by Inkyarn

Silence Reigns

Darkness hung about the mountain like a thick blanket. It enveloped all in its ink coated fingers and stained the world black. Hazy lights in the distance peered weekly through its coat but could not penetrate it. The railroad tracks that wove up the mountain occasionally lit as the train went hurtling through, shaking the ground and sending hundreds of stones hurtling down to the bottom. As the massive machine shot away into the caves toward the city at the top, its bleached white light tore away to guide the train home. The rumbling of the tracks and the loud electric squeal of its wheels soon faded, leaving the darkness to creep in upon the world once more. The chugging of the machine drifted away and silence swelled to fill the space.

Midnight creatures, startled by the appearance of the locomotive, hesitantly poked their heads of of the shadows. They crept back to their homes and settled down; daring not to disturb the silence that quickly took hold. Shaking and peering out timidly, they again found their burrows and concealed themselves in night. Thus the forest quieted and thus the world became still.

Hours ticked away and again came that dreaded horn. It blasted out of the cave, amplified by it and sending creatures skittering and bolting away. Light bleached the bottom of the mountain as it hurtled toward the distant cities beyond. The entire mountain seemed to rumble with the force of its entrance. Deep down around the bend, woven into a crevice above the trees, the force was powerful. Rocks shook loose from the ceilings. Stalactites threatened to fall down upon the ponies cowering inside the cave. Hushed whispers and soft, motherly coos alike ran out from the crowd as they huddled in their brief reprieve from the cold embrace of silence. The faint traces of the train's headlight managed to wrap around and stain the inside walls of the cave before pulling away and disappearing into the night. As darkness settled once more, silence took hold and hushed the small crowd. Foals hugged close to their mothers and stallions settled at the mouth of the cave. Breathing in a collective sigh of relief, the ponies went about their night. Restless, for now was not their time to sleep.

With the train away, the stallions picked themselves up and moved toward the mouth of the cave. Keen slit eyes peered out into the blackness as the edged out onto the thin, scraggly ledge before the cave. Careful hooves gently placed themselves along the path so that the silence was undisturbed. The two of them moved swiftly across the stone.

Down below them was an expanse of open fields and a thin line of trees. Old paths led through the hills, now barren and soft with grass. Once the valley was filled with trees. A massive forest that provided the ponies with cover and security. Long ago, the forest had been sliced away as more and more ponies expanded about Equestria. The ones that remained continued on with only the thin line of woods that harbored the night's creatures.

Black figures leaped up the mountain to a short, smaller cave above. A fire flickered in the darkness, popping and crackling but never threatening the ever present silence. As the two descended upon the fire, large black cloaks wrapped about themselves, they came upon three familiar faces. From the shadows behind them a figure watched as the five began their meeting.

"Silver Vice," a small, elderly pony raised his black muzzle to the newcomers. His hushed voice filled with age, he peered forth through distant, hazy blue eyes and frowned at the silver stallion he addressed. "You've been to the woods tonight?" Silver Vice turned his head away as he took his place among them. "There was no food."

"There's never been food." A dark purple mare added from beside the elder. Her own voice, hushed and daring not to disturb the ambient silence, shook with age. "Never since they took the trees away."

"We cannot help that, Cysgod." Roajel's thick voice hushed her quickly. "We cannot say what the sun ponies do with their Equestria."

"I remember a tale from when Equestria was ours." Silver Vice lifted an old, cracked clay cup to his lips. "We were gods among the lesser kinds. Feared and respected."

The elder leaned back against the stone he used as a stool. "We are not to be feared." The mighty kind around them cringed at the break in its reign and rushed back, filling the fire with its stillness and weighing down upon the circle. After the elder's rough voice, it snatched them all with its firm grip. Continuing on, quieter, he eyed them all with a stern frown, "we are not brutes or savages. We were never meant to be and under my rule we never will be feared." The fire popped and the group lowered their muzzles to their leader. "Roajel, how are the food stores?"

The massive white stallion that entered with Silver Vice raised his ghostly head. "There are many insects for tonight but that cannot get them through the rest of the season." He shook his head. "Falinn and I have searched the whole wood for food. We managed to dig up some roots and nuts but the floor is still bare from our last gather." He looks over to his friend, running a pale white hoof across his arm. "Our food is running low."

"We all know what this means," Cysgod chimed in, her eyes closed. "With food so low..." Her vibrant purple eyes almost glowed through the dark as they lifted up to meet Silver Vice's.

"We must visit the Giving Tree." Silence reared back and fell heavily across the council. Not even the fire dared to spark a sound. Alarmed faces peered about but nopony said a word.

"You can't!" A tiny voice peeped from the shadows of the crevice. The council jumped at the sound and looked over to find a small frame clinging to the side of the mountain. Glowing blue eyes stared up at them, wide and wondrous as the colt hung to the scraggly cliff. The pale moonlight glowed about his mottled grey coat and midnight blue mane. The black cloak at his sides hung still and taut. Mottled Shadow was eavesdropping on the council. He cringed as five pairs of eyes stared curiously, some irritated, down at him.

A low rumble came in the distance, growing steadily louder. Pebbles loosened from the edge of the cliff and cascaded down beneath the colt's feet. Stark white light grew upon the mountain and bleached its side in hazy white light. It drew near, glowing brighter. Deep trembles ran through the cliff and knocked the colt off balance. He gave a small gasp and leaped forward. All at once the cloak wrapped neatly around him unfurled. Long black strips flung out from his body, sweeping away from his shoulder blades and pulling taut. With a grunt of effort they fanned the air and propelled him along; two long, thin bat wings. Another beat and he made it up to the elders' cave just as the light grew brightest.

A proud grin drew across his face. Wind filled his wings and threatened to snatch him back out across the cave but the adult jumped forth. Silver Vice reached the colt first, taking him by the cuff and snatching him out of the air. His thin wings folded sloppily and he was thrown to the floor beside the fire, hitting it roughly in time to feel the train go rushing into the mountain. "Mot, you idiot." Silver Vice growled darkly. "You will not pull such a stunt again!" He advanced toward him, cut off by the mares. They rushed to the colt's side, helping him up and tuck in his wings. The leathery cloak around him once more, Mottled Shadow coughed away the dust.

"That was very dangerous," Roajel frowned, his ears perked. "A pony might have spot you."

"From this side of the mountain? I doubt it." Cysgod rolled her eyes and dusted Mottled Shadow off.

"The light is the problem. That blasted train."

"The food is the problem tonight." Falinn interjected, pulling the young one beside her, Mottled Shadow gratefully took the seat and tucked his tail in neatly, looking around the fire.

"That's why we need to visit the Tree."

Mottled Shadow's ears fell back. "Has it ripened early?" He peeped, peering past Falinn's protective hooves. Everypony turned in his direction, their eyes glowing in the night. He gulped audibly and shrank away against the mare. "W-well, I thought... I just knew that the tree couldn't be picked from until it was ripe."

"What do you know?" Silver Vice sneered, muzzle wrinkling. "Should we really be discussing this before the foal?"

"He does have a point," Roajel interjected. He raised a hoof and ran it through his streaked grey mane. His own cloak-like wings shifted around himself. "The tree is a gift of our Goddess; we cannot disobey its rules." Falinn nodded and the two folded their hooves. "It feeds us throughout every season but when it goes dormant we cannot pick the fruit until it has ripened."

"Irul Valkkai, will you really take the side of some colt?" Silver stamped his hoof. "We need food now and that tree is our only hope. We may starve before it decides when it wants to feed us." Ears back, wings slowly releasing, Silver Vice lowered his head and snarled the words. "We can't let the tree decide when it's best for the colony to feed."

The elder, Irul Valkkai, lifted his hoof for silence but it was beaten back by Falinn's interjection; "if we pick from it now it will die!"

"Says who?" Cysgod frowned thoughtfully. "Our Goddess has been away for thosands of years."

"She came back." Roajel's eyes narrowed.

"And has she yet said any word on the tree?" Silver Vice shook his head to emphasize his point. "She brings us food but her visits are far inbetween and unpredictable. We cannot rely on her any longer. We must act now. The apples won't be as sweet but they will keep our foals fed." With a gesture to Mottled Shadow, the colt shrank, blushing at the attention now on him.

"The tree is laced with the Goddess's magic, Silver Vice. Magic has rules."

He laughed, his voice always hushed, and shook his head. With a small, sideways grin, he stared down at Falinn and the colt. "It's simply a tree, my friend. Nothing more."

"A tree that has survived thousands of years, thousands of storms and thunders and fire. It feeds throughout the year so long as we preserve it." Irul Valkkai's words hushed the bickering council. "We will not go against the wishes of our Goddess, no matter what."

"It's too risky," Falinn piped in.

A single glance silenced her. The eldest went on, "No matter what." His eyes landed on Silver Vice.

"But-"

"This meeting is over." Irul Valkkai stood on his shaky old hooves and nodded. With a single swipe of his wing, the fire disappeared into hundreds of glowing coals. A dark hoof, now indistinguishable from the night's shadows, pressed against Mottled Shadow and led him back down to the cave.