At the Twilight of Harmony

by Rammy

Spicy Buffalo Dragonwings

???

---

Both the sun and the moon were oddly high in the sky over the desert. This alone was cause for concern. The last time this had happened, the wardens for the sun and the moon had been foalnapped. The sound of ruffling feathers caught her attention.

There, on a lone fence post, sat a black bird, most likely a crow, its glowing red eyes staring at her. The bird cawed and then flew straight at her. She ducked down, and the bird flew over her, then up high into the sky.

She watched as the bird flew in the sky, gobbling up both the moon and the sun, much to her horror. As expected, with the moon and the sun gone, the desert fell into instant darkness. The only light came from two large orbs, glowing red, that now replaced the sun and moon. The eyes slowly lowered to the horizon, angrily staring down at her.

She cowered down as an unearthly growl echoed. It was the sound of impending death. Something grabbed her roughly, knocking her to the side. She could hear the sounds of chanting, but could not make out what was being said. Again, she was attacked. This time, she began to run like her life depended on it. The chanting became louder and louder as she ran. She stole a glance behind her and saw that the red eyes were coming at her.

Suddenly, the chanting came to a crescendo, and a glowing white mist surrounded her. She came to a screeching halt, and, out of the mist, the ghostly form of a buffalo warrior with odd leathery wings rose. The buffalo had six different-colored feathers sticking up from his ears and had slitted eyes, like those of the desert lizards.

The buffalo looked down at her warmly, before turning to face the red eyes. With a snort and a bellow, he charged at them. The ghost warrior buffalo clashed with the red eyes, and an explosion of sound and light filled her sight. Finally, a roar filled with rage assaulted her ears as her sight faded to black.

Little Strongheart gasped as her vision ended, finding herself back in the tepee, which she had been in before the vision. Everything she saw was as it had been before, as if no time had passed at all. The tent was still filled with smoke, and the fire was still crackling away. Across from her was an old, grey, and wrinkled buffalo, casually puffing away at a pipe.

So old was he that no one could recall his name correctly, so everyone just called him Vison Walker. Little Strongheart suspected that even he had forgotten his name, as she had been his apprentice for the past fourteen years, ever since just shortly after the fight against the ponies of Appleloosa, and she didn’t know his real name.

“What did you see?” The buffalo asked with a soft and raspy voice, before taking another puff from his pipe.

Little Strongheart stared into the fire as she considered everything she saw in her vision, and whether or not she should tell him. She knew that sometimes, visions were not meant to be spoken; that sometimes, the spirits were trying to speak to her, and her alone. She learned that the hard way when she was first being trained as a visionwalker. She could sometimes still feel pain from where the walking stick hit her hard over her head, and hear his angry rant. From then on, she always considered the vision before speaking.

This vision didn’t seem to be something just for her. The chanting, and the oddity of the sun and moon, was just too impersonal, for lack of a better word. With that in mind, she told everything she saw and heard, leaving nothing out.

After she had finished telling him the entirety of her vision, he sat there and took a particularly long drag from his pipe, slowly exhaled the smoke, then, once again, dragged long. Then, he slowly got up and went over to a basket that contained various herb-filled pouches, including the tobacco that Vision Walker used for his pipe. After rummaging for a bit, he pulled out a pouch and threw it, and its contents, into the fire.

This didn’t surprise Little Strongheart a bit, as Vision Walker had done this before. A lot of the herb concoctions were used to help in peering into the spiritual realm, as well as starting vision quests. What was new was that the contents (whatever they were) had caused the fire to flare up, with tons of purple smoke.

“Come,” Vision Walker pulled the pouch over his shoulder, grabbing his walking stick, which was next to the tent entrance. “We have much to do, and little time.”

---

Chief Thunderhooves had been chief of what was sometimes referred to as the Appleloosa tribe for quite a few seasons. He had seen many things in that time, and seen many changes. This was probably the oddest thing he had ever had to deal with. When Vision Walker… the visionwalker... had called a council of the tribes, it surprised and concerned him. One did not call one lightly. For that matter, the last time one was called was the same year a rainbow rippled across the sky. One usually called it when a grave danger was on the horizon, one that would either threaten their way of life, or their lives. He, himself, had almost called one, and would have called one if they had not been able to compromise with the settler ponies over their stampede grounds.

Now, he was out in the desert, along with all of his warriors, looking for ‘a ghost.’ The only two descriptors that Vision Walker could give was that whomever they were looking for was either multicolored, or was wearing something that was multicolored, and was a flier. This was not particularly helpful in his search.

The sun was high in the sky when he came across a body. The body was so battered, dirty, and burnt that he was not even sure what manner of creature he was seeing. However, he could see a multitude of colors on the head, and that it was winged. He wasn’t sure that this was the one whom Vision Walker was wanting, but he knew better to error on the side of caution, as the Spirits sometimes were vague, and only a visionwalker had a chance in understanding them fully. He gave out a great bellow to signal he found something. A faint bellow echoed out from the desert in response.

In a short time, Vision Walker, with help from another buffalo, approached to examine the creature. Vision Walker carefully climbed off the back of the buffalo warrior and eyed the creature.

“Vision Walker, is this the one? The one from the vision quest?” Chief Thunderhooves questioned.

“Yes, and he must live.”

“How? It’s a miracle of the Spirits that he’s not already dead!”

“There is but one place…” Vision Walker muttered, ignoring Chief Thunderhooves’ protest. He was fully aware how bad this was… the burns about the body where so bad that he was blackened in places. To add to that, he could see deep bruises and gashes on the few unburnt spots. He was sure that there would be cracked or broken bones.

Chief Thunderhooves waited patiently for Vision Walker to finish his mutterings. It was a well-known fact that the visionwalker would mumble out loud when he was deep in thought over a difficult subject. After a minute of this, Vision Walker signalled to Thunderhooves that whatever he had been thinking on had formed into a plan. “We must take him to the Caves of the Spirits.”

“He is not one of us!” Chief Thunderhooves was shocked. Perhaps those whispered rumors from the younger generation, that Vision Walker was becoming senile in his old age, had some merit. “The Spirits would not allow an outsider in their sanctuary!”

“Don’t question the Spirits!” Vision Walker snapped. “They want him… I think it’s a he… healed, and, if he has any hope to be healed, that is where we all must go.”

“All?”

“Every buffalo, warrior, woman, elder and calf…”

---

“Easy… easy… EASY!” Vision Walker barked as several buffalo eased the now bandaged dragon into one of the special warm water pools deep in the Caves of the Spirits. They had discovered that he was a dragon after his injuries were initially washed and tended to, before their march to the caves.

Once the dragon was in the pools, Vision Walker directed Little Strongheart to crush some of the turquoise that he had told every buffalo to bring, most of whom were currently in other areas of the caves, preparing for what could be a long stay. Once the gems were crushed to his satisfaction, he added it to the same pool as the dragon. Meanwhile, some of the medicine buffalo tied herbs to rocks, and placed them into the pool as well.

“Why are we crushing turquoise and putting it in the water?” Gathering the turquoise and crushing it didn’t bother Little Strongheart, as it made sense, given that they were treating a dragon. What confused her was the fact that they were crushing it and putting it in the water, along with the herbs that the medicine buffalo had gathered in hopes of further instilling the healing waters with more healing power.

“Always the inquisitive one, Little Strongheart.” Vision Walker smiled. “In simple terms, do you know why we stampede along the same routes seasonally, yearly, and generationally?”

“The stampedes mimic the spiritual currents of this world. By stampeding along them, we can draw closer to the spirits, and their ability to guide us increases.”

“Very good, Little Strongheart. As you know, the land always reflects the actions of those that steward it. Because of this, the gems, particularly our turquoise, carry much spiritual essence in them, unlike gems, even turqoise, of other lands. If what the Spirits say is right, and he is the only one that can fight the crow turned darkness, then we must do everything we can to heal him. Now, remind my senile head, what is the one thing that most healers unknowingly neglect when healing an injury?”

Little Strongheart chuckled at the joke, as she knew that, while Vision Walker was old, his mind was still very sharp. She also knew that he still wanted her to answer. “That the injury may have a spiritual aspect to it?”

“Yes.” Vision Walker smiled. “Didn’t you sense or see the darkness that oozes around him, and threatens to choke him?”

Little Strongheart did. She saw how many of the medicine buffalo noted that his scales were so burnt to be black, but she could see that something was coming off of them that one could mistake as a black smoke or mist. But she knew better; whatever had caused the burn was still there, wafted off him, and clearly would interfere with his healing. “Yes, there is darkness that is coming from the black burns… and it’s the same as the darkness from my vision!”

Vision Walker’s smile grew at this. The training time for each visionwalker was different, but he was beginning to think that maybe it was time for Little Strongheart’s Lone Walk, and for her to become a visionwalker.

---

“Ah, he awakens!” Vision Walker smiled at movement from the dragon, followed by the slow opening of two eyes. This was a good sign, as it meant his recovery was speeding along nicely, though those first few days were hard. After they stabilized the dragon as best they could, and the buffalo were completely gathered, he took a cue from Little Strongheart’s vision, and he had the entire gathered buffalo chant. For some time, he wasn’t sure it would work. Only after the third day, with the buffalo taking turns chanting, did the darkness finally begin to fade away. By the sixth day, it was nearly gone, and, on the evening of the eighth day, when he could not find any more darkness, he went ahead and dismissed all but a single medicine buffalo, whose name escaped him for the moment, Little Strongheart, and himself.

Currently, both of the others were out getting more healing herbs, and were not likely to be back for a while. This gave Vision Walker an opportunity to find out more about this dragon that had the Spirits’ attention. But first, he wanted to see how the dragon was doing, from the dragon’s mouth.

“Here, drink this.” Vision Walker hoofed over a small bowl of green liquid. “It will help with your dry mouth and throat.”

The dragon took the bowl and tipped the contents into his mouth in one gulp. “Where... where am I?” He spoke in a raspy whisper, then coughed a bit.

Vision Walker debated exactly how truthful he should be. However, as there was really no harm in letting him know, as, if the Spirits were okay with him, he should be, as well. “Our people call this place the Caves of the Spirits.”

“Okay.”

Vision Walker was a bit surprised that he was content with that answer. He didn’t have any time to contemplate before he noticed that the dragon was trying to get up.

“No.. don’t try and get up. You are still severely injured. As it is, it’s a miracle that you survived.”

“How long?”

Vision Walker scratched his chin; he was not completely sure, as he had not left the caves since their arrival, nearly two weeks ago. “It will be twelve days in a few hours, I think… In truth, I have not left this cave, or your side, since we found you near death in the... Appleloosa Badlands, I believe, is what most call it… and we are not sure how long you laid there before we found you.”

The dragon nodded his understanding, but said nothing. Vision Walker suddenly had to shield his eyes from brightness of whatever spell was being cast. He made a mental note that maybe he really should have at least gone out a bit more, as he was sure the light would not have been so painfully bright otherwise. When he finally was able to see, the dragon was making his way out of the caves.

“Visonwalker of the Stampeding People, the stars have cried out, and you have answered. The Spirits of the stampeding grounds are surely grateful for your service.” The dragon dipped his head in respect before disappearing.

One of the advantages of not only being a visonwalker, but ‘older than the dirt’ as one young pony filly once (much to his amusement) described Vision Walker, was that very, very few things came as a surprise or shock to him. His people had always been friendly to dragons, but for a dragon to say what he said was a shocker. The phrase spoken to him was very similar to a greeting that was only used by the Spirits, and only if the Spirits wished to speak in a direct manner. Furthermore, that was a rarity, for a vision quest. He himself had only heard it four times in his long life, and the elder visionwalker before him had also only heard it four times… Out of the two other vision walkers currently alive, excluding Little Strongheart (whom he decided was ready for the Lone Walk) had only heard it once each.

“Who is this dragon that knows of our Spirits like he does?” Vision Walker muttered as he continued to watch the exit, long after the dragon had left. He then remembered the description that Little Strongheart had given. “Were we just graced by one of the Spirits themselves?”

Comments

[RadicalDishonesty]

Who could it be?! Such a mystery.

... There's no rolling eyes emote? Probably too hostile.

Still, the world building is quality, here.

[Rammy]

6776376 They should have one just for you...