Chapter 4: A Statue by the Sea
All Paths Lead Home
by Mystic
Chapter 4: A Statue by the Sea
You can find the chapter with its original formatting here: Chapter 4
The light is cold. It’s cold and weak, the kind of light that would not have endeared the ponies of old to their pegasus weather teams, regardless of whether or not it was scheduled. Like the light, the world is cold. Cold, and a light so weak it is generous to call it so after all-consuming fire, these are the self evident truths of Equestria after the end.
But yet, there was no denying it. There still was a light. It fought its way onto the land through the blankets of grey cloud, as they sulked in the sky. And no matter how cold, or how weak, the mare was always thankful.
Dawn brought forward this light onto the wasted earth of Equestria. The mare, as usual, woke with it, her body aching and stiff, reminders of her exploits the day before. They had been lucky - sore muscles were laughable.
The filly, as was habit, woke soon after. She blinked and looked around, her eyes familiarising themselves to their new location. She did this every morning as far back as the mare could remember.
After a hurried and silent breakfast, the two ponies restarted their trek towards their all encompassing goal. They still had at least a full day’s travel in front of them to get down the slopes of the mountain. The mare didn’t want to spend any more time than they had to on these blackened peaks.
As the day progressed, the two ponies climbed rise after rise and fell down into gully after gully. Around them the ground was broken with the corpses of trees, their bodies charcoaled and ashen due to the fires that had passed through here only a few days ago. The slopes were covered in a thick layer of black ash, and the remaining banks of snow had mixed with it to create a muddy slush. It made progress slow, but they continued regardless.
Watched as always by the trees, the two ponies made their way down the mountain. They saw nothing but what the monotony of travel had steeled them to: trees, rocks and the ever-present ash. The mare both blessed and cursed days like these. It was these days that provided a relative peace to the dangers of the world, but yet also gave room for idle thought. The pony knew just how dangerous thinking could be in a world where everything was grey.
She couldn’t, however, no matter how hard she tried, escape the voice in her head. The filly appeared to be suffering from a similar problem.
“Mama,” she said. “Are those ponies back inside the cave, are they going to die?”
“I…” The mare hung her head slightly. “Yes. Probably.”
“Oh. There isn’t any way out for them is there?”
“No. Not after the avalanche and the cave-in.” Her voice was heavy, laden with guilt. Thinking in a world of grey was never a good idea.
“They shouldn’t have to die,” the filly said suddenly.
“Why?” was all the mare could reply.
“Because nopony deserves to die.”
“But you heard them, they would have killed us.”
The small pony frowned. “So? Nopony should have to die.”
“I…” The mare wasn’t sure what to say. “Even bad ponies?” she asked at last.
“They probably weren’t always bad,” the filly replied. “Maybe they were just scared.”
“I… maybe.” Bad ponies tried to survive... That’s what it came down to, survival. “But they weren’t just scared. They weren’t trying to survive like bandits. They were crazy.”
The filly looked at her closely. “They probably just need somepony to be nice to them.”
The mare didn’t reply. She couldn’t reply. There was no way she could destroy that hope, no matter how untrue it was. The mare knew the world; she knew that those ponies were too far gone. Nothing would ever save them.
“That’s what the mares of harmony would have done, though,” the filly added. “They would have been kind to everypony, and you always say that we should be like them.”
The mare’s heart broke. Where was harmony? Where was harmony?
There had been foals in that cave, not much older than the filly herself. And she had condemned them to die. Did survivalism justify her actions alone?
The mares of harmony - they were storybook legends, figures from a past so long ago that it seemed impossible to even believe that they ever existed. They were ideals, symbols that lived only through the pages of a tattered storybook in their possession. What would the mares have done? How would they have reacted to save themselves and those whom they loved? The mare didn’t know. Nopony would know.
The filly’s words resonated with her. Be a better pony, just like them. Just like those mares. She wanted to be a better pony. She wanted to live up to the mares. But the world wasn’t the way it used to be. The mare stared around at the ashen landscape covered in a permanent miasma. She stared at the diseased clouds, hanging in the air like rotting curtains. No. It was nothing like it was before.
But that didn’t change the facts. That didn’t change the truth. For better or worse, for right or wrong, she had condemned those ponies to die, and she, and she alone, had to live with that.
The rest of the day passed without incident, the light in the sky quickly slipping toward the west, taking the visibility with it. The two ponies had climbed down most of the mountain during the day. They were now in a tightly wooded area, one that had been untouched by the fire. The snow was gone now too, but the cold in the air remained. The mountain slopes still undulated sharply, broken by steep rises that fell into narrow gullies. However, the mare knew that before them lay the gently flowing country of Equestria’s heartland. That area had once rich and ripe with all manner of plant and wildlife.
Through it all wound a wide river, its grey body moving sluggishly along the earth, visible from a long way away. The mare knew it ran all the way to the sea from the mountains.
As dusk began to fall, the two ponies set up camp in a clearing within the forest. A light fog was beginning to grow amongst the low places of the land, clinging like mould, away from the dying sun’s light. The mare knew that the easiest way to get to Manehatten from here was to follow the river. From their campsite, the river was in a valley less than a mile or so away, the peaks on the gentle rises visible above the tops of the trees.
They ate dinner in silence, sharing a tin of spinach between the two of them, trying to ignore the texture. It was slimy and rubbery, and it left a foul after-taste in their mouth. A gentle breeze caused the branches to creak in a cacophony of scratching, putting the mare’s teeth on edge. As the lengthening shadows began to consume the world, helped along by the fog, the mare prepared herself for sleep. Following her lead, the filly did the same, curling up into a tight ball.
As the mare’s eyes fought to stay open, the branches continued to crack ominously into the evening. It wasn’t long before the mare fell into an uneasy slumber.
It is early in the morning and the sun is shining brilliantly, while a gentle breeze provides refreshment from the warmth of the light. In the sky there is not a single cloud - the weather team’s doing an impressive job for the day’s race.
The mare, in her teens, is nervous. Today she is going to run the Canterlot running of the leaves, and Celestia help her, she’s going to win. Even though the actual race takes place in the valley below the city, nopony seems to mind. It’s the sentiment that counts.
Beside her stands Spades. He too is running the race, though he appears to be considerably less excited than the mare.
“But it’s so long,” he complains softly. “I don’t know if I’m going to make it…”
“Of course you will,” the mare replies. “Just stick with me, I’ll see you through to the end.”
“Yeah, but you’re probably going to win the thing…”
“Don’t jinx it!” the mare exclaims, horrified. She’s trained too long for this.
“I’m not! I’m just saying there is no way I’ll be able to keep up.”
“Yeah you will. Just try ok? Do your best and all that jazz.”
Spades rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’m still doomed.”
The mare appraises her friend with a raised eyebrow. He grumbles and looks down at the dirt, kicking it gently between his hooves.
“Don’t worry. I’ll look after you.”
He looks up, a small frown on his face. “Really?” He doesn’t sound convinced
“Yeah, just you wait and see.” She says her words with a forced smile. What has happened to them? They used to be so close… but now… the mare doesn’t know. She loves Spades, she really does, but something is missing from their friendship.
“Alright everypony, are you ready for the big race?” says an enthusiastic voice from beyond the white start line drawn into the earth.
The mare looks up and sees the race referee, a blue pegasus with a cheerful smile, present himself in front of the contestants. She gently pushes her way to front of the line, careful to not bump into anypony and be accused of pushing in. Behind her, Spades follows half-heartedly.
“Alright then!” The pegasus continues when the contests mumble their understanding. “You all know the rules, so try your best, have fun and we shall see you all at the end after all the leaves are gone! May the best pony win!”
And just like that, the mare is ready. Her body tenses like a spring. Her muscles coil, unreleased power surging through them. She takes a deep breath and lowers her game face. She was never really much of a sport pony, but when she had found running, she took to it like a fish to water. And now, after months of training, it was going to pay off. She was sure of it.
The race referee stands back, eager to get the competition started. Beside him, a tan-coloured earth pony holds a chequered flag within his mouth. The mare can feel the other contests psyche themselves up. Clearly she isn’t the only pony with the desire to win.
“Alrighty! On three then! One, two aaaaaaand go!!”
And she is off, her hooves kicking up small clouds of dust behind her that swirl in the air. Looking over her shoulder, the mare realises she is already far ahead of everypony and forces herself to slow down. After all, she knows she has to pace herself to win. Everypony knows that.
The mare felt the familiar thrill of exercise take hold of her limbs. She loved to run, the power of each stride as she flew along the ground. Nopony said pegasi were the only ponies who could fly. Casting her gaze back over her shoulder, she saw Spades keeping up only a few metres behind. He really is fitter than he looks.
The race ran its way through groves of trees, their canopies orange thanks to the multitude of leaves hanging desperately on to tired branches.
As the contestants speed through the Canterlot valley, the ground trembles slightly, and the leaves fall dreamily around them to the ground, succumbing to their inevitable fate. The mare feels good. In fact, she feels great, a feeling helped by the laboured breaths coming from the contests around her. She pushes the pace up slightly, revelling in the power of her legs. She smiles as her competitors grimace in pain.
They were starting the one and only climb of the day, a short rise up the side of valley before they dropped down and crossed the river on the other side for the finish. Her legs are burning now, and her lungs are tightening ever so slightly. She ignores the pain and pushes on, willing her legs up the hill. She has to win, and nothing is going to stop her.
With a sense of relief, the mare summits the hill, gasping slightly as the breeze hits her in the face, rapidly cooling her sweat-drenched body. She grits her teeth into a grim smile. She can see the finish now, just on the other side of the bridge down in the valley below. She can see her victory.
As the hill descends into the valley, the mare presses up the pace. She can hear the hoof-steps of her competitors grow distant and sneaks a quick look back. She can’t believe it. She’s winning! And Spades is still there! Even if he does look like he’s about to drop dead on his hooves…
Even as she has the thought, her friend looks up at her, his eyes pleading. The mare shoots him a confused look and his eyes appear sad, frustrated almost. Confused, the mare almost doesn’t notice another earth pony rapidly closing the distance between them. The mare grits her teeth and pushes herself onwards. She has to focus. She has to win!
They are speeding along the valley floor now, and the arching cobblestone bridge is right in front of them, spanning the length of the sparkling blue water. The mare makes toward it with all her strength. She is tired now. There is no debating that. But she is also determined.
Her hooves hit the cobblestones with a resounding echo. They are rough and uneven, dangerous for tired runners. She doesn’t care about that now; she only cares about the finish line. It is less than a hundred metres away, surrounded by yelling and smiling ponies, cheering the racers to home.
She is across the bridge, and thundering back along the path. She is so close. She is-
A shout suddenly raises itself into the beautiful day - a cry of panic. The mare looks back in horror at the sound of Spade’s voice, only to watch him tumble to the ground heavily, having tripped over one of the cobblestones. She breaks her stride, torn between her friend and the finish. He looks up, or at least, she thinks he does and appears to yell something, her name perhaps, or maybe that’s just the ponies on the finish line.
“Spades… I…” The mare looks between her friend, lying on the ground, his leg out on an odd angle, and the finish line, its promise of victory so, so close. The other competitors are almost on her now, closing the lead she has created.
With tears in her eyes, she makes her choice and speeds off toward the finish line, leaving her friend hurt in the dust behind her.
“You promised…” he cries out, his voice thick with pain. The mare can’t shake the thought that it’s not just physical hurt, too.
The mare crosses the finish line to wild applause, the ponies cheering her victory. She is vaguely aware of a few medical ponies rushing toward Spades. She looks around angrily and confused. She is becoming lost in amongst the sea of well-wishers and congratulators, pressing in around her on all sides. Where is Spades? She has to get to him! She has to make sure he is ok!
When she finally breaks free of the crowds, it is too late; Spades is already being taken away by the medical ponies on a pegasus cart, heading toward the city.
“Spades… I’m sorry…” she says weakly to the rapidly disappearing wagon. “I’m…” But she is immediately swamped by supporters, oblivious to the medical cart in the sky.
The fog had not lifted by the next morning, instead clinging to land with thick tendrils of moisture, further obscuring the details of the world. Rising early, only just able to make out a few metres in front of her with any sort of clarity, the mare packed up their things quickly and silently.
The filly awoke and stared out at the fog that hugged the trees with its damp, misty embrace. They were silhouettes in the darkness, vague forms lost to obscurity.
“How can we see where we’re going, Mama?” the filly asked.
The mare pointed to the horizon. “I can still see the tops of the valley we have to be following.”
“Where?”
“The purple outlines,” the mare said, pointing again.
“Oh.”
“You don’t see do you?”
“No…”
The mare smiled. “That’s ok, I can see for both of us.”
The two ponies headed out towards the ridge, the river on the other side. The trees reached out into the gloom, moisture collecting on the underside of their branches. At least with this fog it wasn’t as icy as before.
On the top of the ridge, the mare looked down. She could barely make out the river crawling its way through the land. The fog was thicker down in the bottom of the valley, settling in the low places of the world. She wasn’t too concerned, however. Travellers were few and far between in these parts, and following the river, they wouldn’t get lost.
Down in the valley, the two ponies were sure to give the bank a clear berth. Despite the fact there wasn’t a drop here, the memories of last time were still fresh in their minds. The water moved slowly, solutes swirling within its polluted waters. Beside the river, the skeletons of old willows lined the pebbly beaches, their droopy branches sagging toward the ground, bearing some unseeable weight.
On their left, the valley wall rose up gently. The same was true on the other side of the river on the right. But the mare could barely see this. The fog was just too thick.
Making sure to keep the grey-coloured water firmly in their sight, the ponies started walking down the length of the valley.
The fog grew mercifully lighter as the day progressed. While it never truly disappeared, it instead became a light haze, merely obscuring the scenery around them. The land was now much flatter, having left the valley behind them, and now it meandered along with small natural rises and falls, dotted by trees. Otherwise the land was empty, the river the only noticeable landmark.
Manehatten was their destination, and the mare chose this reluctantly. She hadn’t been to the once-glorious metropolis since before the end. A pony was foolish to venture into the city in the years after the fall, as the city had become a haven for bandits and other dangerous groups. That had been long ago, though, back before ponies had started to fade from the land altogether. So now there was a chance it was safe. Especially considering that the tour through the mountain had put them several days in front of any traffic coming along from the west road down. Manehatten was the fastest and most direct route home, and the opportunity to find supplies was too tempting to pass up. Even though they weren’t desperate as they had been in the recent past, food was too hard to come by to pass up lightly.
The river continued to move sluggishly along, almost as if the dissolved ash itself was slowing its speed. The mare was reluctant to draw any water out of it for drinking, but did so out of necessity. Not only did she use a still, but she boiled it as well.
As the two ponies walked, the filly remained silent throughout most of the day. She stared at the ground, her brow occasionally bunching up in frustration. There was something on her mind, the mare could tell. These days it was rare if there wasn’t.
Often she would let the silence rest between, today though she chose to break it. The fog put her on edge.
“Are you ok?” she asked gently, probing the air between them with her question, testing her reaction.
“Yeah,” the filly said after a while. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure. Just thinking, that’s all.” Her forehead wrinkled again as she spoke.
“Thinking about what?” the mare asked.
“The ponies in the cave,” the small pony said reluctantly.
“Oh…” She was still on that. Well of course she was. The mare should have guessed. “What about the ponies in the cave?”
“Why did they want us, Mama?”
“I’m not sure,” the mare replied half-truthfully. She had heard the word ‘sacrifices’ but didn’t want to repeat it. “They were just bad ponies.”
“But why did they want me? What did I do?” The small pony was speaking slightly louder now.
“They didn’t want just you…”
“Yes they did. They said so! They said to keep me alive, especially me.”
“I don’t know what they would have done. It could have been something worse than not being alive,” the mare finally said.
The small pony looked at her, confused.
“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. They weren’t going to get you. I promise,” the mare explained.
“But…” the filly began, but she soon petered off.
“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” the mare asserted more firmly. “You know that.”
The filly didn’t reply, and instead stared down at the ground as it passed beneath their always-moving hooves. It was almost as if they were locked in perpetual motion, forever moving without any choice in the matter. The ash made no sound under their hoof-falls and didn’t swirl either due to the moisture in the air.
“Mama,” the filly suddenly began, “what would you do if I died?”
The mare jerked her head toward her daughter who was staring up at her expectantly. Even though the mare didn’t answer right away, the small pony waited patiently, her eyes wide and innocent.
“I…” the mare finally said after a while. “I don’t know.”
“Would you keep going home? That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know… I don’t think I could.” The mare’s voice was strained, as every fibre of her being told her to abort the conversation.
“Then… then what would you do?” the small pony asked.
“I would like to be with you,” the mare whispered. She closed her eyes, trusting herself not to walk into anything for the next few steps.
“But Mama, you are with me,” said the filly.
“I know,” the mare whispered. “I know I am.”
“But then why…”
“It’s not important. I am with you now, and that’s the important thing.” The mare smiled softly at her daughter, who smiled hesitantly back.
“You’ll always be with me, Mama.”
The mare smiled sadly. “I hope so.”
That night the two ponies camped in the ruin of an old windmill, the emptied stone carcass the only remaining structure for as far as the eye could see. The outside of the north wall was charcoal-black, the very stones themselves having cracked and shattered under an immense heat.
While it was still open to the elements, the old, crumbling stone walls provided a useful shelter. It also helped to minimise the light exposure, and when coupled with the again thickening fog, the mare lit the lantern so the filly could read.
She poured over the mares of harmony book, her mouth silently moving as she read each word over and over. The small pony spent minutes staring at the vivid images on each page, lost in the tale of adventure, danger and friendship.
“I want to be like her,” the small pony said, pointing to a purple unicorn.
“Then you can,” the mare answered softly.
“But I can’t use magic, and I’m not brave and smart like she was.” The filly sounded despondent.
“You’re very brave and smart,” the mare offered. “And I don’t think that’s the kind of magic which is important in that book.”
“Oh…” the filly said, looking confused. Suddenly, her ears perked up and she looked at her mother in hushed excitement. “But do you really think I’m brave and smart?!”
The mare smiled. “Yes, I do.”
Beaming, the filly returned her attention to the story book. The mare couldn’t help but notice how rare it was that she got to see her daughter smile like that. Even still, the mare couldn’t help but smile herself.
The city is… alive. The mare cannot believe the sheer level of energy in air. In Canterlot, life is much quieter. Here it is positively electric with droves of well dressed ponies packing the streets, all talking quickly or looking like they have somewhere important to be.
The mare is in the middle of Manehatten, surrounded on all sides by colourful multi-storied buildings with black wire balconies and adornments on their roofs that reach up into the sky. Their fronts are all a mixture of brick and glass set in predictable patterns. On the street, windows display a huge range of wares from services to groceries. Cafés and restaurants are on almost every street corner, their elaborate and sophisticated exteriors gilded by an excess of gold lettering.
The skyline is filled with towering structures of glass. The sky-scrapers reach out into the sky, trying to touch the heavens themselves.
Beside the mare stands her husband. He too is staring at the city around them, a little overwhelmed. Behind the two ponies, the Manehatten metro-city train station’s main entrance falls down a set of stairs and into the bowels of the earth, hidden from the most part from the sun. It was a new addition to the city, miles upon miles of snaking tunnels reaching out to all corners of the city. It was the first of its kind in Equestria.
“It’s a little different from Canterlot,” the mare says slowly.
“Just a bit,” the stallion beside her agrees.
“Well then… what are we waiting for?”
“Nothing… I’m waiting for you…”
The two ponies stand there awkwardly for a moment longer, neither of them moving.
“Whose idea was it to go to Manehatten for a holiday?” the mare grumbles.
“Yours.”
“Oh yeah... still…”
The stallion shakes his head quickly, almost as if he’s clearing it. “Come on,” he says. “We’re in an exciting new place for the first time, let’s make the most of it!”
“Are we going to drop are bags off at the hotel first?”
The stallion sighs. “Fine, that first and then we go and make the most of it.”
As hard as the mare found it to believe, the day was actually enjoyable. They meandered their way through the city streets, soaking in all of the sights that Manehatten had on offer. The mare took particular enjoyment in seeing the massive hoof-ball stadium in the distance, its gleaming white surface stretching up into the sky.
At lunch they stopped at one of the cafés. They weren’t quite as posh as the ones back home, but were just as ‘modern’, if that was the proper term. There they enjoyed the pleasant day, while all around them ponies moved, bustling as one large, never-ending crowd.
As dusk begins to fall, the two ponies make their way to the marina. Around them, as always, are throngs of ponies. There are couples on romantic walks, families with their children, groups of friends, and ponies who work on the docks. The marina stretches around the small bay of the city, the concrete walkways roped off before they fell into the glistening water. Small vendors selling refreshments or souvenirs to tourists had set up shop on the outside of the traffic thoroughfares.
In the harbour itself, behind the gigantic concrete flood-walls, small boats glide effortlessly across the water, their gleaming white sails catching the soft breeze that dances lightly across the land.
However, the centre point of the bay is the gigantic metal statue that stands proudly in the marina’s entrance, a light held in an outstretched hoof that reaches out into the sky, and a crown resting gently on her brow. She is a pale green colour, the effect of several hundred years exposed to the elements. It is the statue of harmony and one of the jewels of the Equestrian nation. Tall and impressive, the statue stands watch over the marina, a symbol of pride for everypony.
The mare breathes a sigh of contentment. “Today has been fun.”
“Yeah it was. It’s a shame we are only here for a few days.”
“I’m sure we can always come back one day,” says the mare, staring dreamily out onto the sparkling water.
“Yeah, one day,” the stallion agrees.
The two ponies stand side-by-side gazing out over the water way. On the horizon, the sun is beginning its final descent, alighting the sky with a wash of glorious oranges and reds. The mare can’t help but gasp at the beauty of Celestia’s magnificent sun as it bids the earth farewell in one last show of splendour.
“It’s beautiful…” the mare whispers, ignoring the cliché.
“It sure is,” her husband replies, equally awed. “We sure don’t have an ocean in Canterlot.”
The mare smiles gently when she feels her tail being intertwined with his, the couple enjoying the peace of the moment. She leans against him, using his frame for support.
“No,” she says after a while, a contented smile on her face. “We certainly don’t.”
They could see the city a long time before they reached it. It was about mid-morning, and the fog was almost entirely gone, leaving cold, stale air in its place. The city stretched out as a brown and grey network of buildings set out into grids of expanding size. A cluster of crumbling sky-scrapers was just visible on the horizon, obscured by a light haze of ash and other pollutants. Beyond those, the mare thought she could see the sea, but she wasn’t certain.
“It’s so big,” the filly said slowly.
“It is,” the mare replied. “It was the largest city in Equestria.”
“But that was a long time ago, right, Mama?”
“Yes… it was.”
It did not take long for the two ponies to reach the outskirts of the sprawling metropolis. The empty fields of ash soon gave way to the organised destruction and despair of row after row of suburbs. Through it all, the river flowed ever onwards, directed now into a concrete channel.
The city outskirts were mainly residential and were thus smaller buildings, only one or two stories. They were made of mainly red, yellow or brown bricks, though now they all appeared grey or black. Their shingled roofs were all angled slightly. Some had small gardens which were now just patches of ash. A few even had the burnt skeletons of trees.
Most of the buildings had clearly suffered some kind of structural damage, the most obvious being fire. Almost every building had suffered extensive harm from the flames; their windows shattered, revealing charcoaled interiors beyond. Some, however, had been the clear subjects of earth tremors or earthquakes, their walls cracked or collapsed, their roofs caved in.
The streets were empty, wasted and ashen. Occasionally, a piece of ancient rubbish, whose survival was nothing short of a miracle, would dance across the street, the wind giving life to its inanimate form. The mare saw a traffic wagon, its burnt and broken body lying up against a street lamp.
Every now and then the two ponies would see shopping districts. They were large complexes, their walls stained and burned, and their parking lots forever empty. The mare knew they had to go looking through some of these later, but wanted to get closer to the city centre before nightfall.
As the two ponies made their way deeper and deeper into the city, the buildings began to grow taller and taller, slowly turning into the Celestian style towers that had never appeared to go out of fashion in this once cosmopolitan metropolis.
It was here, in the shadow of these tall structures of brick and glass, that the mare saw the first of the dead.
It was the skeleton of a unicorn, its bones broken and burned. It was lying alone on the side of the street, untouched by everything but time over the years.
“Don’t look,” the mare said to the filly.
“You always say that,” the small pony answered, not taking her eyes off of the dead pony.
“Then maybe you should listen,” she replied sadly.
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen,” she said quietly.
The mare couldn’t argue with that, even if it did break her heart to hear her say it out loud.
The mare is young and on her way to school. It’s still her first year, but she feels quite settled into the routine. A pair of saddlebags filled with books, crayons and pencils rest on her back and jingle quietly as she runs. She is so excited! She can’t wait to see all of her friends again!
Her mother is just behind her. She is smiling down at the mare knowingly, not saying a word, as the small pony skips down the street. The mare hums a tune to herself. It’s no song in particular, but it sounds good, and it makes her smile. Her mother is smiling too, so she doesn’t stop.
The street is lined with large, leafy-green trees that cast a cool shadow over the road. The school the filly attended was a nice one, and around here all of the houses are big and expensive.
She contemplates what they might learn about today. Science perhaps? Or maybe history! As long as it’s not math the small pony will be happy, though. Numbers make her head hurt.
A small shape lying in the middle of the road causes the mare to stop suddenly. Unable to make out what it is, she slowly trots over to it. Her mother hasn’t seen it yet, still a pace or two behind her.
“Is that a bird…?” she speaks out loud. Why isn’t it moving…?
Her mother stops. The mare hears her sigh gently. “Yes, it’s a bird,” she says. Her voice is quiet.
The mare turns, staring at her mother quizzically. “Why isn’t it moving? Is it sleeping?”
The older pony smiles for a brief moment. The mare frowns as her mother smiles. It isn’t a happy smile. “No, Darling. It’s not sleeping. It’s dead.”
“Dead…?” The mare shakes her head. “But when will it wake up?”
“It won’t ever wake up. You don’t wake up when you die.”
“Won’t ever wake up…? Can we fix it?” She is getting agitated now. Maybe if they fix it, it won’t be dead anymore and it can wake up! She keeps looking backwards and forwards from her mother to the sleeping bird.
“I’m sorry, Darling. It doesn’t work that way. When something is dead, it can’t be fixed. It can’t ever wake up again.”
“But… but… can’t we take it to a doctor?”
Her mother just shakes her head.
“But…” Her mother walks over and hugs her tightly. The mare’s eyes are warm and prickly and her stomach feels cold.
“I’m sorry. I really am. But this is just how things are. This is how life works. Everything dies one day.”
The mare looks at the bird. But if the bird won’t wake up, is it dreaming now? Or can’t it dream ever again? She pauses. “What if I fall asleep and never wake up!”
“That... that won’t happen,” her mother says. “You will wake up, don’t worry.”
“Is the bird dreaming?”
Her mother looks at her carefully. “No, Darling. It isn’t.”
The mare pauses. Never dream? But if it doesn’t dream and can never wake up... She struggles to wrap her head around the concept. Does that mean that the bird can’t ever fly again? Can it never fly to all of the trees and see the sun and see all the ponies and the other birds? Maybe it had a mom and a dad, and now it can never see them again...
It would never wake up.
“But... but...” the mare stammers, her eyes suddenly burning. “That’s... that’s not fair!”
“I know it’s not fair, Darling. It’s just the way things are.” Her voice is understanding, and she runs a hoof through her daughter’s mane. “I’m sorry.”
“Why, Mom? Why does it have to die?” Her voice cracks a little.
“Because it’s a part of life,” she says delicately. “It’s just the way things are.”
It’s just the way things are.
Even though that afternoon her mother had picked her up from school with a chocolate muffin in a paper bag for her, it didn’t quite brighten the tone of the day. It always would be the first of a long list of tragedies, great or small, that chip away at a pony’s innocence. But even now, despite everything that had happened since, it didn’t make this memory any less tragic. Because that’s just the way things are.
They were nearing the city centre now, and the sky-scrapers stood overhead as pillars of destruction and decay. The mare could see the extensive damage that had been wreaked upon them over the years. Every single panel of glass had been shattered, and the metal support frames were burnt and melted. Entire chunks of the structures were missing, and like the innards of a terrible beast, the charcoaled offices were visible inside.
The buildings stood tall and narrow. The lower floors were usually reserved for businesses while the top floors were offices or even occasionally residential spaces. On almost every street corner sat the burnt and collapsed carcasses of the vendors of old, their stock having long since been lost to the flames.
Apart from the wind, it was utterly silent within the city.
But that did not mean that the two travellers didn’t see anypony else. All around them and with alarming frequency were the bodies of the dead, some fresher than others. In front of the old Manehatten Library, lying along the steps leading up to its great, stone-pillared entrance, they found the bodies of almost twenty ponies, each looking no more than a month old. The mare shuddered slightly when she saw the exact same markings and wooden effigies around many of the deceased’s necks that she had seen on the Discord cult members. Weapons of varying condition and original purposes lay strewn around the dead in rivers of dried blood.
The mare made sure to avoid the area around the library after that. Still, it forced her to ask the question: who were they fighting? And where were they? She had thought that there were a large number of rooms back within the caves that looked recently emptied, not abandoned for years like the ones in the higher floors. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
The mare knew she had to be careful. Whoever was fighting could still be around. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from all of the broken windows on either side of her. They were watching her.
Along the same wide-open boulevard as the library, lined on both sides by the charcoaled skeletons of trees, the mare saw the Manehatten royal offices building. The titanic structure was supported on all sides by large, circular pillars. The eaves of the marble roof were engraved with murals depicting the ponies of old striving toward a better future. In front of the building was a shallow, rectangular lake, the water having long since evaporated away. Dead trees surrounded on all sides by stained concrete lined both sides of the lake. There would be nothing worth anything anymore in those halls, so the mare walked on, not bothering to get closer. Well, nothing but the memories of a different time.
The mare made a point to avoid the train stations. She’d had enough of dark places hidden under the earth. The rumbling of the collapsing tunnel still played through her head. Nopony deserves to die… Oh Celestia, nopony deserves to die…
The mare wasn’t sure why, well maybe she was, but they were heading toward the sea. Over the tops of the buildings she could just make out the very tip of the statue of harmony’s outstretched torch and was using that as a guide.
At one point they found the street they were on blocked - a gigantic horseshoe constructed from a hollow metal frame had collapsed from the top of one of the sky-scrapers. It had crushed the buildings below it, sending huge piles of rubble onto the street. The horseshoe itself was bent and twisted, groaning occasionally under its own weight.
The two ponies cut their way through a small alleyway, carefully avoiding the small puddles of moisture that smelled downright dangerous along the walls. On the other side, they merely continued on their journey to the sea.
As they grew closer and closer to the ocean, the mare noticed the increase in the number of shops and stores around them. Many were restaurants or private businesses selling clothes or other speciality items. All of their store-fronts were shattered, the contents having been stolen or destroyed a very long time ago.
They could smell the sea a long time before they saw it. It filled the air with a deathly odour that reminded the mare of rotting flesh. The filly wrinkled her nose, and the mare frowned. That did not bode well for what was waiting for them.
As they came closer and closer, the smell became worse and worse. Eventually the two ponies lifted the loose collars around their necks to cover their noses. The dirty fabric provided some relief but not much. They hadn’t had to use their face masks like this in a long time.
The mare and her daughter eventually rounded a corner, past the ash filled gutters, and the old marina suddenly opened itself in front of them. The concrete walkways were now tainted, their once gleaming surfaces marked with scorch marks and copper-coloured stains. All of the safety ropes preventing ponies from falling into the water had vanished, either rotted away or scavenged. The support poles were now standing alone by themselves, their bodies rusted and rotting. The few more permanent vendors could still be seen but they were all broken and collapsed; only shells of the bright and colourful shops they had once been.
The ocean itself was a dark-grey, almost like during a storm. Now it was laced with thin trails of a sickly milky colour, the pollutants swirling visibly within the murky water. The mare couldn’t help but notice the walls of the marina that touched the ocean were pitted and eroded - the water itself was acidic, literally eating away at the concrete. There was hardly any movement within the water, other than the pollution flowing inside, driven by unseen currents.
In the entrance to the bay were the concrete and steel flood-walls. They stood crumbling and eroding, fighting to hold back the ocean.
Above the two ponies, hidden as always below its sullen prison of cloud, the sun was just beginning to make its way down toward the horizon.
The mare did not look upon these things for long, though. Her eyes were drawn naturally to the enormous statue that still stood watch over the marina. The metal was now discoloured, only the more sheltered regions retaining any green. The more exposed places were now an orangey-red, the heat visibly warping the structure. The south-facing side, however, or the statue’s left-hoof side as far as the mare was concerned, was a deep, dark black, the metal twisted, melted and bubbled. The overall appearance made the statue a multi-coloured monstrosity, half melted and burnt, the other a warped pattern of greens and oranges. The mare could see the spikes on the crown on the left hoof side droop toward the statue’s mane, having melted in the heat.
“It’s…” the filly said, staring horrified at the monstrous statue.
“It’s still standing,” the mare replied softly, a smile on her lips.
“But… what was it?”
“It’s the statue of harmony,” the mare said.
“The statue of harmony?” the filly repeated, confused. “Like the mares of harmony?”
“Kind of… but not quite. This was built before the mares of harmony.”
“But why?”
“To show the world what ponies could do,” the mare said, smiling as she did. “To show everypony what we could achieve with hard work and when we work together.”
“Oh…” the filly said slowly. “It looks all burnt and broken now.”
“Maybe,” the mare replied, “but it’s still here.”
The small pony looked at her mother, but the mare didn’t explain any further. She instead stared up the twisted statue that was still, despite everything, standing in the mouth of the Manehatten marina, watching over the city with a firm, but powerful gaze.
With nothing more to see, the two ponies turned and walked back towards the city centre.
“Come on,” the mare said. “It will be dark soon. We need to find someplace to sleep.”
The filly nodded her head and fell back into place next to her mother, casting her eyes back down to the ashen streets.
The two ponies wandered around, looking for a place to sleep, but not sure exactly what would be appropriate... or safe. The mare vaguely pictured a building much like the hotel she had stayed at on her last trip, but was unsure that such a building would even exist anymore.
Walking through the deserted streets, the mare made a conscious effort to stop at one of the shopping malls in the district. They needed gas for their stove. She approached the empty parking lot cautiously. The white parking lines painted onto the ground were fading and dirty. The building itself was constructed from several cubes all appearing to be interlocked in a modernist style of contemporary pony architecture - a craze that had just been picking up before the end. While they would have once been colourful and vibrant, the cubes were now filthy with soot, the occasional entire panel missing from its roof, revealing black holes beyond. Any windows were broken, staring hungrily out into the destroyed city.
The two wide, glass doors that would have automatically opened when a pony approached were broken, one jammed forever closed, the over forever open. Both were devoid of glass, the remnants of which were lying in shards around the frames. The mare and the filly entered with careful hoof-steps, making sure to avoid the broken glass.
Inside was a long corridor of shops that ran horizontally in front of the two ponies. The mall was made up of five levels with a narrow oval-shaped hole cut in the middle that soared straight up to the roof, leaving the higher floors fashioned like an elongated doughnut. Metal poles acted as guard railing, the glass that would have filled their frames lying broken on the bottom floor.
The mare noted in disappointment that every store was empty. Judging by the dust, the shelves had been stripped bare a long time ago.
“There’s… there’s nothing here, Mama,” the small pony said softly.
“I… I know.”
“We should go.”
“I know,” the mare replied wearily. But she stayed there a moment longer, taking one last looked at the stripped mall, the hallways empty and deserted just like the rest of the city.
As the afternoon dragged on, the mare became more and more nervous. They had begun to pick their way through individual houses now, looking out nervously for a place to sleep. However, almost every apartment building they entered was in ruins inside, the flames having destroyed the flammable interiors. Many of the floors had collapsed, leaving the rubble dumped in the foyers at the bottom, making entrance impossible.
The mare threw an anxious glance at the rapidly retreating sun as they made their way down what felt like the thousandth barren and wasted street, the towers of brick squashed together tightly on either side.
To make matters worse, there were a few dead ponies in the area, their corpses left forever in the elements, rotting away into dust on the street. She didn’t bother asking the filly to look away anymore.
The two ponies entered a small square, the centre of which featured an elevated platform, a small flight of stairs leading up to it on all sides. In the middle, and surrounded by empty garden beds, rested a statue of a pony. It was a unicorn, staring hopefully up into the sky. The finely crafted marble was blackened and burned. The mare could make out graffiti scribbled on it in a red marker screaming, ‘Where are the Princesses now you -?’ She didn’t read the rest.
Frowning slightly, the mare led the small pony down one of the adjacent streets. The sun was inching itself lower in the sky, and the shadows were lengthening considerably.
“I’m tired, Mama.”
“I know. Me too,” the mare replied, pushing their way further down the road.
Breaking off the side on the street they were on was a narrow alley, not unlike many the mare had seen earlier that day. The mare, as she normally did, stuck her head down the dark and damp passageway, trying to gauge whether or not there was anything worthwhile. In this one, she paused. She could see a small door, hidden away from the wasted and destroyed streets. As far as the pony could tell, the door led to a house that did not share a wall with one of the main streets. Suddenly, the mare was intrigued. If the house was tucked away like that, it might have avoided desolation.
Picking her way through the piles of broken furniture and rusted rubbish bins, the mare slowly made her way over to the door. The filly was close behind her, both of them staring up at the tall buildings leering down on either side.
The door was relatively intact, sporting only a little weather damage. The mare tested it gently and to her surprise, found that it swung open without a fight. Before the pony entered, she took out the lamp and placed a candle inside. She lit it before slipping the lantern around her neck.
With a faint source of light, the two ponies entered the house slowly, watching out for anything out of the ordinary. The entrance hall was faded, but intact. Light-purple wallpaper was still visible on the dusty walls. Branching off the hallway, the mare found several rooms: a sitting room, a study and a kitchen. All appeared untouched, the furniture sitting neatly, albeit dusty, inside the rooms. Even the bookshelves were still filled with stacks of books, organised in a seemingly methodical fashion.
Slightly awed by this perfectly preserved time capsule, the mare walked into the kitchen. Inside, she found a small refrigerator, an oven, a pantry, and an assortment of benches, cupboards and drawers.
The mare approached the pantry slowly and subconsciously inhaled, equally apprehensive and hopeful. With a gentle hoof, she swung the door open and gave a gasp of pure, unadulterated joy.
The pantry was filled with food, literally filled. Cans, boxes, packets and jars were stacked on every single self, all untouched, all collecting dust within the darkened cupboard. The mare couldn’t believe it. It was incredible. In fact, it was beautiful.
“Mama, what is it…?” the filly asked tentatively.
The mare simply stared into the pantry, still at loss for words. Curious, the small pony approached, looking past her mother and into the cupboard. The mare was barely aware of her small squeak of surprise and happiness.
“Mama!” she said excitedly. “Mama! It’s filled with food!”
Finally, the mare broke her silence, a huge smile growing across her face. “I know it is, little one. I know it is.”
The small pony just gazed lovingly into the stacks and stacks of food, feasting her eyes on a sight she had never seen before and probably never would again.
While most of the food was rotted or long past its use-by date, the mare was still able to scavenge numerous tins, cans and jars worth of vegetables, biscuits and other long-lasting food sources. It was biggest stash of food she had found in years, and she wasn’t about to let it go to waste.
After raiding the pantry for all it was worth, the two ponies headed up the stairs with bulging saddlebags and smiles on their faces. The staircase was narrow and twisting, turning sharply as it rose through the building. The mare was surprised to find that the house only had two floors. The height from the street made it look like it was a lot taller.
On the second floor, the mare found herself within a hallway similar to the one they had first entered. Picture frames caked in dust clung to the walls, their fixtures causing a spider web of cracks to spring forth and run along the joins between the roof and floor. However, unlike the entrance, there were only three rooms coming off of this passageway.
The mare walked down the dusty corridor as the light from the lantern cast playful shadows out into the darkness. The first two rooms on the left were bedrooms, their interiors destroyed by the broken windows that looked out over the alleyway. The final room, the only one on the right, was another bedroom.
The mare couldn’t help but gasp again when she entered this one, and a single phrase escaped her lips, “Oh thank the Princesses.”
This bedroom was perfectly intact, even down to the dusty mattress and quilt on the princess-sized bed. On the walls sat a single bookcase, a dresser with a mirror on top and a wardrobe. They were all untouched, all undamaged. The mare could not believe it.
“Mama… that’s… a bed,” the filly said, her voice coloured by disbelief.
“Yes… it is,” the mare replied, similarly shocked. More importantly, it was a bed with a mattress.
“Am I… am I going to be able to sleep in a bed again?” Her voice was rising in excitement now, and her eyes were wide.
The mare laughed. “Yes, little one. I think you are.”
“Yay!” The small pony squealed with joy.
The mare smiled warmly at her daughter who was practically bouncing with delight. The small pony was filled with glee at the prospect of sleeping somewhere besides the cold, hard, ashen ground for a change. For once, their luck appeared to have swung in their favour. She had to admit, she was thrilled herself.
It was the little things like this that made life after the end worth living.
A/N: A massive thank you to Sessalisk for editing, and an equally big thank you to everyone for reading. Questions? Comments? I appreciate feedback of any kind, so please let me know how you are finding it! I shall see you for chapter 5!
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Another good chapter
354725 Thank you! Ironically, I thought this was one of the slower chapters, haha. I hope you like what's to come!
Hey, glad to see this here! I was actually going to suggest it.
I occasionally forget to check the chapter updates on EQD, so it's nice to get an e-mail whenever a story gets updated so I don't miss anything.
377795 I am glad you are liking it! Chapter 5 is pretty much almost ready, so it hopefully should be up in a couple of days!
Here's some grammar 'n stuff.
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The mare didn’t want to spend any more time then they had to on these blackened peaks.
From their campsite, the river was in a valley was less than a mile or so away, the peaks on the gentle rises visible above the tops of the trees.
While they would have once been colourful and vibrant, the cubes were now filthy with soot, the occasional entire panel missing from its roof, revealing black holes beyond. Awkward sentence?
Why did it take me his long to read the next chapter? I must be crazy again...
Anyways, great story still, gonna read the next chapter now~ my boss now likes your story too
I wonder if spades is still alive though... And if he holds a grudge! There is still so much to ur story... MUST READ DURING BORING WORK HOURS!
'The light is cold'? Really?
A nearly perfectly preserved house with food, a bed, perhaps the shower still works...I smell a trap of some sort. I hope that I am wrong.