A965 - Crossroads
It was a busy morning in the lobby of the Royal Hotel, with all the family members and several others in attendance. Mother was still clearing the breakfast table when Dawn sent out the first runner.
“Salt, you take the northern part of town,” Dawn called out to the blue stallion. “It’s only the main road, but don’t forget the few houses on the other side of the bay. I want everyone down at the pier by noon.” Dawn cleared his throat. “Did you get that?”
Salt Marsh snapped his gaze away from Brenda who was sitting at the back of the room by the fireplace. “Sure thing! On my way.” He turned and hurried out the door.
Dawn sighed. “Spray?”
“Right here, lad,” the Shetland stallion said from Dawn’s side.
Dawn looked down, shaking his head. “Right. You round up our tribals down at Drywall.” He held up a hoof when Spray was about to complain. “I know you’ve got the shortest legs and all that,” he said with a small grin, “But nobody can swear in Whinny as well as you.”
Spray huffed in annoyance but nodded after a moment. “Och aye, a ken ye’re right. See you later then.” With that he sauntered out onto main street.
Behind Dawn, Moorland sighed. “I should have known I’d rue the day I let him have that dictionary.”
“Does he even know that nobody on Orkney ever spoke Scots?” Brenda said with a chuckle. She tilted her head. “Actually, I’ve been wondering where Buidhe and her tribe got their Gaelic names from.”
“Oh? That is interesting,” Moorland said, his ears perking. “There may yet be more to them than meets the eye.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” came a cool voice from the kitchen door. Solstice entered the lobby with a scowl on his face.
Moorland looked to the ceiling with a sigh. “Exactly what I said. If-”
“Oh cut it, you two,” Harvest interrupted him. “Dawn? Me and Sol are taking the part up west.”
Solstice blinked and turned to his eldest brother. “Since when?”
“Since now. Got something to mull over with you. Let’s go.” Harvest snorted. “I’m not in the mood to kick you today. You going to come with me or do I have to drag you?”
“Okay, okay, I’m coming. Someone tell mum,” Solstice muttered and trotted out the door, well ahead of Harvest.
Dawn nodded. “That’s taken care of then,” he said and dismissed the others in attendance.
“Uhm…” Brenda began. “I guess I’ll go help mum then.”
He shook his head. “No, she’ll just have to find someone else. You stay here with me and Moorland so we can go over how we’re going to do this.”
“We?” she asked in surprise.
“Of course. You’ll be at my side.”
Brenda fidgeted with her forehooves. “But I thought- I mean, I’m not a good speaker. Isn’t there a bit much at stake here?”
“Yes there is,” he said. “And that’s why I need the ‘expert on humans and equine sciences’ to back me up.”
“But-”
“No ‘buts’, Brenda. You’re either part of all of this or nothing. Since you insisted on taking part in our meeting yesterday, you’ll take part in presenting my cause to everyone else today. If you want to be treated as an equal, you’ll have to act like one.”
She swallowed, ear beginning to splay back. “This isn’t some boring powerpoint at uni! What if I screw this up? I’m- I’m no leading mare!”
Dawn swished his tail in annoyance. “I’m not discussing this and I don’t care about whatever you’re talking about this time.” He sharply drew the tip of his right hoof over the floor in front of him. “You’ll be at my side whether you want to or not.”
Brenda’s ear drooped and she lowered her head. “Yes, Dawn.”
Early next morning, a fine drizzle was drifting down from the low hanging clouds on a lazy breeze. To the north, the leaden waters of the Loch of Stennes lay calm and seemed to merge with the hazy sky in the distance.
Hundreds of hooves were turning the ground east of the decrepit bridge over the loch’s inlet to mud. Inganess Bay beckoned. No one able to travel would pass up attending what well might be the most important gathering in their lifetime.
On one hoof, Dawn was thankful for the show of unanimous support. Proud of it. Proud of himself. Most would already have followed him, if for nothing else than Kirkwall’s resources. Others cared for friendship with South Ronaldsay. The Marked One backing him up had lent the necessary weight to his words to convince all of them. Make them believe.
Harvest had given up his place to the right of Dawn for the occasion. In his stead Brenda walked beside Dawn now, looking uncomfortable. Not just from the rain, though that of course didn’t help.
“At least the weather could have improved over the last century,” she muttered. “It’s the end of June, for god’s sake.” A slurping sound accompanied her pulling a hind hoof out of a mudpuddle.
“As the wind is coming from a westerly direction, the atmospheric conditions are unlikely to change anytime soon.” Moorland was walking next to Dawn on the left.
Solstice snorted. “You really in the mood for giving a lecture now?” he said from further left.
“This was not meant as a lecture! I was merely-”
Dawn ruffled his wings, scattering small droplets about. “Solstice has a point, Moor,” he said in a tired voice as he stepped over a raised slab of tarmac.
“Hmpf.”
When the band of solid ground narrowed to little more than the embankment of the old A965, the herd formed a long procession behind their leader and his family. The road was the only thing left of the landscape features marked on Dawn’s maps after nature had reclaimed the former pastures and country lanes. Left and right, the rain had turned the marshland into a pattern of small lakes. White dots of cottongrass swayed in the soft wind.
“At least there aren’t any midges today,’ Brenda said and snorted. “Guess it would be somewhat distracting from having a serious conversation. They’re going to have enough stress as it is.”
Dawn looked to his right. “Only they?”
Brenda looked at him in surprise. “Well, yeah. After what Solstice told us about them, it sounded like they still act more or less after their natural behaviour?”
“Wait, I’m not sure I got that.” He frowned. “What do you mean by their natural behaviour?”
“Uhm, I mean, the way horses behaved when I was still human? I told you that horses were pretty dumb, acted mostly on instinct and couldn’t talk.” She bit her lip. “I did, didn’t I?” she added, sounding a little nervous.
Dawn still felt just as uncomfortable about the topic as when Brenda had first brought it up. He shook his head, spraying her with water from his mane. “You did,” he replied with a sigh and tried to focus. “Why then would they be more stressed than me?” he said with a sigh and added, “That’d be quite the feat.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about this over the last two days.” She took a deep breath. “I mean, they’ve still got that herd structure with families that don’t mix and leading mares. But now they move as one large herd despite that, but territory is still very important to them. Only that now every family moves its own little slice of territory around with them that isn’t to be casually disturbed by others.”
Brenda cocked her head, biting her lower lip. “Or something like that.” She nodded to herself after a brief pause. “And that strict adherence to rank, with a powerful leading pair that can override all the other mares’ decisions and whose family members are somehow exempt from some rules. They all submit to that system with no questions asked, then also all these complicated rituals with the choice of mate and conflict solving and-”
“Brenda, stop.” Dawn closed his eyes for a moment and almost slipped as a result. “Can you give me the short version?” he said with a sigh. “I’ll need that written down. Moor, have you been listening?”
“Of course, dear brother. It is quite intriguing.” Moorland hummed a little tune for a few seconds. “Brenda, correct me if I’m wrong, but does this mean that the South Ronaldsays have converted the mindless instincts of their ancestors-”
“So we’re better than them or what?!” Solstice snapped.
“Would you let me finish, dear brother?”
A disdainful snort.
“Thank you.” Moorland gave a put-upon sigh. “Where was I? Ah yes. So they have converted the traditions of their forebears into their current tribal customs. Not just translated but converted. An almost seamless assimilation. Interesting. How did you deduce that, Brenda?”
“Uhm.” Brenda cleared her throat, ear beginning to splay back. “Please,” she began but stopped to clear her throat a second time. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. It’s just, well… the, uhm, old folk had a good understanding of how these instincts worked. Like, already a few thousand years ago. W- They used that to develop appropriate practices to first domesticate and then control their animals and to keep them docile. To some degree also to teach them how to follow commands.”
An awkward silence followed, broken only by hoofbeats on the sodden ground.
“It’s not my fault!” the little mare snapped, ear flat against her head.
Sometimes Dawn felt utterly lost in her presence. And hurt. And stupid. And stupid for having these feelings in the first place. For a change, he was thankful for Moorland being the first to speak up again.
Moorland sounded unfazed. If anything, he sounded fascinated. “So… let me venture a guess. They aren’t comfortable with assembling all families in a close space for an extended period of time. Am I right?”
Brenda nodded. “Only when travelling.”
“Of course,” Moorland said. “But you can’t have an important meeting alone, and yet neither can you have one with everyone milling about. Tricky for their chieftain.” He nodded to himself. “In addition to that, we will be somewhat close to intruding on their territory with over a hundred of our people. Distressing on its own.”
His analytical tone grew a little more enthusiastic. “Our behaviour will seem random to them, which will have a disconcerting effect since they won’t be able to deduce our intentions from that. Their leader will still have to act as if there is no reason to be disconcerted. No frame of reference for that situation. Confusion? Nervousness? Maybe even aggression?”
Brenda gaped at him. “How in the-”
“We might be able use that to our advantage,” Moorland concluded with a self-satisfied smile.
A moment later, Dawn’s brain caught up with his ears. He stopped up with a squelch of mashed vegetation. “Are you out of your mind?!” he hissed, flaring out his wings and hitting Brenda in the face with one of them. “I’m not going to try and manipulate them! We are not having a discussion about this.”
Moorland retreated a step and bumped into Solstice who rounded on him.
“You want to play them?!” Solstice snarled. “I’ll not let you try and treat them like Brenda’s dumb horse, you dungheap!”
“Stop it!” Dawn bit out. “Move on!”
“I will not be talked to in this kind of language! Not even from a member of my own family,” Moorland said, ignoring the command.
Solstice put his muzzle an inch to Moorland’s face. “I’d take Buidhe’s family over your company any time!”
Moorland gave Solstice a cold look. “Is that so? Well then. Off you go with your little princess.”
Solstice bared his teeth and lifted a foreleg.
Dawn arched his neck and spread his wings to their full extent. “Solstice Spirit and Moorland Song!” he shouted, well aware of the wide eyed onlookers behind them. “I’m not letting you two sabotage this! He turned to Harvest. “Swap places with Moorland until he and Solstice recall how to behave like members of my household.”
Brenda was about to make way for Moorland when Dawn touched her with a wingtip to her withers. “You stay where you are. I want sane people on either side of me.”
She looked uncomfortable but moved back to his righthoof side, relegating Moorland to second place on the outside. When Moorland passed behind her, she tensed and tucked in her tail.
Dawn turned his head and held Moorland’s gaze until his brother lowered his eyes and took up his new station. “One more word about this and you’re going back home. Understood?”
“Yes,” Moorland replied in a flat voice.
“Same for you, Solstice. Keep a hold on yourself.”
Solstice hung his head and mumbled an apology.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Dawn drew a deep breath and looked back at the ponies and horses behind him. Dozens of flicking ears marked the place in the line where the murmuring had already travelled to. “Let’s go!” he called out in a gruff voice and started walking again.
Harvest swished his tail and gave an approving nod, falling in line at Dawn’s side.
The next mile passed in stony silence between the leading five. Behind them though there was plenty of talking and nickering, accompanied by careful glances to the front. It blended with the occasional neigh of a parent calling on their colt or filly to stop dallying. Gravel bouncing off the embankment and landing in grey puddles with small splashes. Wet grass swishing between their legs. The clip clop of hundreds of hooves on the old road surface.
They passed the remains of a low building with a canopy held up by weathered pillars to their left. A faded sign over the empty windows proclaimed it to be ‘Sutherland’s Garage’. Cracked and overgrown tarmac covered the space around it and under the small roof. Three square, rusted columns the height of a pony stood beside each other, jutting up from high grass.
Brenda fixed her eyes on the ground, ear drooping and jaw set.
Dawn looked to his right and cleared his throat, thankful for the opportunity to break the silence. “Something the matter, Brenda?”
“It’s nothing.”
“You’re a very bad liar,” he said with a sigh. “Out with it. I don’t want any more surprises today.”
Brenda hung her head. “And I don’t want to cry in front of everybody,” she said quietly. “But you’re right, I guess.” She looked straight ahead until the place was well behind them and sighed. “My dad used to run that place before he sold it ‘cause his back was acting up. The guy who bought it from him, Owen-” She swallowed. “He was a nice guy. Used to work there. He-” she broke off, sniffling, before continuing in a thick voice. “That house on the right before we got here. Gerri’s. Was an ice cream parlour. He-” A shaky breath. “He got me ice cream there when I was a little girl. Used to show me stuff in the workshop. Said he’d make me a mechanic and- and my dad would laugh and- and... shit, I-”
Dammit. Dawn sighed and put a wing over her back, shielding her from the curious gazes of those walking behind her.
The soft drizzle turned into steady rain, muffling her quiet sobs.
The narrow causeway that was the A965 swung northeast and reached solid ground. On either side of the road, open meadowland replaced the fields of sedges and half sunken farmsteads.
Dawn folded his wing back up when Brenda had composed herself again. “Sorry for forcing you through that, but I need to know what might come up.”
She nodded, rainwater dripping from her forelock and muzzle. “I… I think I’m fine.” Looking up to the low clouds she continued, “Have to learn to deal with this. And I understand. Wouldn’t want to be in your place really.”
“I’m not too keen on it myself right now,” he said drily and smiled when a little smirk touched Brenda’s lips.
Harvest swished his tail and snorted water from his nostrils in small droplets. “I’ve got your back.” A simple statement with no undertones.
Dawn felt a satisfied smile spread over his muzzle as he touched his brother’s withers with a wingtip. Harvest bowed his head at the gesture of acknowledgement and assumed his position again. One head behind to the left, matching Dawn’s gait.
From Loch Harray to the north, a great skua came drifting past on patrol. The large bird of prey banked hard as it spotted a pair of lapwings the herd had roused. Oblivious to the danger from above, one of the wading birds met its end a moment later. Prey secure in its claws, the skua circled low over their heads and gave its raspy hah-hah-hah before departing in the direction of Maes Howe.
“Did she just thank us?” Brenda asked in bewilderment.
“They usually do,” Dawn replied absentmindedly, following the bird’s retreating shape with his eyes. The low grave mound was coming into view through the damp haze about a mile away. “Say, how old was your father when… it happened.”
There was a long pause, followed by a deep breath. “Fifty-five.”
Broken asphalt crunched underhoof, breaking the steady clip clop of the herd in irregular intervals.
“Did you know him well?” Dawn asked.
“Yes?” Brenda replied, sounding confused. “He’s my dad. Why wouldn’t I?”
He snorted. “Because I’m not sure anymore that I knew mine,” he said and flicked his head towards the grave. “We buried him in spring... a hundred and twenty years. I think. Maybe… how old are you?”
Brenda looked at him with wide eyes. “A hundred and twenty? Wow. that’s longer than the old folk lived. Horses normally live for thirty or forty years. Well, except the Icelandic, they easily reach forty five or fifty, but-”
“Mother is forty,” Dawn interrupted her in irritation.
“Seriously? But mum is a fjord pony and she doesn’t look old at all!” Wet grass swished between their hooves. “A… rather small, green fjord pony, okay. I- forget it. Anyway. Didn’t you see my birthday on my driver’s licence? I’m twenty four.”
Dawn blinked. “You are? Then you’re as old as Harvest. Wouldn’t have thought that by looking at you.”
“I have no idea how I should look for my age in this form. Or what a pegasus should look like for that matter,” Brenda added. “If Harvest is my age, then how old are you?”
“Sixteen.” Dawn cocked his head at the surprised look on Brenda’s face. “What is it?”
“Nothing!” she hurried to reply. Another little pause. “Uhm. I have a feeling that I’m going to make myself sound like a fool now.” She sighed. “Anyway, how long do horses take to reach maturity here?”
Dawn narrowed his eyes at Brenda. “Are you saying-”
“No, I’m not!” Brenda gave him a nervous glance, ear flicking about.
Dawn shook his head with an irritated nicker and regarded her with a wary look. “I’m not sure, maybe you should ask mother.”
“It’s because natural-” Brenda sighed when he frowned at her. “You know, this is really difficult! Your, eh, equine ancestors were fully grown at three.”
“Three?” Dawn hesitated, feeling as if there was a headache coming on. Everything about Brenda and what she told him became stranger the more he got to know her. It also felt as if she knew more about him than himself. “The foals learn to speak at about two, earlier when they only hear Whinny. Grown… huh.”
“You have to know that, don’t you? I mean, they’re your people.”
Dawn felt his ears splay back. He ought to rebuke her for exposing his lack of knowledge in public like this. Even if the others couldn’t understand what those in the lead were talking about, he shouldn’t allow it. Stop her from questioning him. Even if the topic was inconsequential to all of them. And what’s it to you? Instead, he turned his head away while blinking rain out of his eyes.
They passed Maes Howe, the solitary barrow in the green expanse outlined against the grey sky. Father. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the rain on his back. Listening to the hundreds of hoofbeats. Smelling Brenda’s growing apprehension. Damn you.
Dawn looked back at the little mare by his side who had her head lowered and her tail between her legs. A deep breath, ears forward. “Honestly?” he said in a conversational tone. “I have no idea and I’ve never thought about it until you brought it up. Father declared me his heir when I was fourteen.”
Brenda’s relief was almost palpable as a smile graced her muzzle. “That’s funny. You know, a few hundred years ago fourteen was the age when boys were viewed as grown men.”
He looked ahead again to where the road turned towards Finstown in the east, cutting through the low hills. It’s surface was in good shape on this stretch and the embankment solid. That’s it?
Distant thunder came from the north. “I was always the smallest and weakest,” Dawn said. To his surprise, saying it to Brenda like that didn’t hurt at all. He nodded to himself, water dripping from his forelock onto his muzzle. “And I was also the last of the foals my age to learn to speak. At least that’s what mother told me.”
He heard Brenda give a deep sigh. “Well-”
“Same here,” came Harvest’s voice from the left, sounding thoughtful.
Dawn almost jumped. “Really?”
“Yeah.” There was a pregnant pause. “Got back at them all later though,” he said, a smug smile tinting his voice. “Twice and thrice over.” He cocked his head and continued, “Guess no one ever told you, huh? Moor always weaseled out or got them to fight each other, and Sol was everybody’s best doltish mate anyway.”
Dawn realised he was gaping and shut his muzzle. “I didn’t know that,” he said in a flat tone.
“And you,” Harvest said and shook his head with a frown, “You just took it. Just took it all. No matter what, from me or Moor or whoever… you just took it.” An annoyed huff. “You just took it and walked away afterwards. Sun and moon, I hated you for it. I wanted to break you so bad and I never managed. And father kicked the shit out of me and Moor for it. Mostly me though. Several times.”
All Dawn could do was stare.
“Hah! I see father really never told you. And mother probably didn’t want to upset you, bless her.” Harvest laughed and shook his head with a rare grin. “And you’ll take whatever their chieftain gives you and I’ll make sure you give it right back,” he said in his usual gruff voice. “Now let’s get a move on, this weather is pissing me off.”
Four hours later, they reached the flat expanse of land south of Inganess Bay. Where the road crossed a row of five parallel lines of corroded girder masts, Dawn called for a halt. Behind the remains of a chain-link fence, the row ended at a broad band of tarmac. Stretching from west to east over the meadowland, its surface was in a much better shape than that of the road. Even the white arrow markings and numbers were almost intact.
The weather had begun to clear on the last mile from the old city, with the occasional rays of sunlight creating fleeting patterns on the ground. Some two hundred yards away, the rusted hull of a flying machine still sat at what was left of its shed. The wings hung limp at its sides. Just as useless as his own.
Dawn recognised the machine from Moorland’s books, but it was hard to believe this thing had ever left the ground. That it had ever carried people. He glanced at the little mare to his right. Brenda would know. Hadn’t she said something about having flown to the large city of Aberdeen? It was… He shook his head with an irritated snort. Not now, of all times. Dawn forced the thought out of his head and looked away from the ancient plane, gazing out over the flat land.
Two narrower asphalt bands stretched from northwest to southeast and from southwest to northeast. Where they met the main band and formed a six-way crossing straight ahead, two Icelandic horses stood waiting. The South Ronaldsay tribe formed a long line behind them, three rows deep.
Dawn took a deep breath and set his jaw. Head held high and with measured steps, he led his herd onto the field.
Alright. This is it.
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Huh, so the pure horses grow slower with magic? Or is it just Scapa going on reproduction spree all over the place in his early years?
Dawn had extremely shielded childhood, eh? I predict his butt being red from all the times it returns to bite him.
8080082 It looks as if the degree of hybridization has an influence on the age of maturity and life expectancy, yes. With all that entails. I'm going with the assumption that pure horses reach maturity a little later. They have to grow into an actual society after all, not just a wild herd of our current horses.
I also think that Dawn's butt is well-bitten already - he'll achieve Marked One status sooner or later.
Did you notice me finally using your input from long ago regarding herd dynamics in an island setting?
Well done catpone! I think your writing has improved again.
Everything is set up now. This meeting should be interesting.
It's weird how well that fit into the story, for something you spotted at the side of the road on google maps.
8080469 Meow!
8080484 I know, right? Google streetview is an amazing writer's tool full of unexpected inspiration.
Considering that Brenda Sutherland received her name about 18 months prior to me finding this...
8080422 I was mostly talking about supposedly "pure" native ponies, they seem to be aging slower as well (or even Dawn would've noticed).
Yeah, I've noticed, though I thought it was your intention all along... well, good to be helping.
8080565 They do age a little slower, but not as slow as hybrids like Dawn and his family.
How is it with the nomads in Fimbulvetr?
8080797 Nomads are all hybrids, so they grow up at about normal human rate.
The speed at which they get old and the exact effects of the age differs greatly, though.
8059138
I did not intend my question to be any disrespect to you or your story. As a journalist, I have been trained by my university professors to have my headlines be summary statements of my articles. I just wanted to know how you would sum up your story in one sentence and your statement sums up your story nicely.
8082464
Even if your comment had been meant to be negative, it certainly wouldn't have been disrespectful. Quite the opposite.
I simply couldn't come to a conclusion on how you'd meant it. :)
Was food for thought though and I like that.
Yep. Scapa and his direct kin are sorta like the alicorns of the microcosm. Or rather, the elves in a society of humans (in DnD analogies). And Dawn's both young enough and last child so hasn't quite realized it yet. Would be awkward to be emotionally and physically younger than your peers. I can kinda understand the irritation that would have lead the brothers to be that much of a collection of asses to Dawn...
Still, 'Dammit Scapa' has made it into the story at large! I'm so proud. It is a bit awkward to establish new traditions without having a way to record it. Worse since society is new enough that it's both in the 'the way it is' phase while still lacking the 'because X and Y' justification/reasons. A lot of 'common sense' stuff doesn't have an answer because they have just been running with it without thinking about why...
Lots of tension in this chapter though. Sol is starting to understand the Ronaldsays and his cultural understanding is making him more sensitive I suppose. That and his new marefriend. Plus... Moor. Moor doesn't make things easy.
Brenda though. She's on the opposite side. All the knowledge of the common 'ancestors' which makes it awkward to try and relate it. Poor girl is gonna be way out of her depth for a long while. Not to mention this literal trip down memory lane...
8090735 Another DCRR!
You're the best.
"What, that pampered baby is going to take my place?!" Moor and Harvest were probably 'adult' (by medieval standards, mind you) by the age of ten or twelve.
And it was about time indeed. It still took someone close to him being distressed for that final push. But yes, finally.
Sol is caught between a rock and a hard place. He's also the most empathetic of the main cast and suddenly finds himself in a situation where he will make himself unpopular (or worse) with people no matter what he does. He's also just out of his depth like Brenda, if for very different reasons. Moor has lost his ally Harvest and finds himself sidelined by Brenda despite (or because of even) his brilliance. He's not happy.
Well this has been one of the most engaging stories i have read in a while. I really love the small community building up future and related problems feel it has. A lot of similar stories get swept in some massive plots really fast but here near 100k it is still going strong!
Ah yes, and thank you for writing this. Really cheered me up in time when i needed a bit of an pick-me-up.
First of all, sorry you two for answering so late. Or not writing the next chapter. I... haven't had the best of times lately. Trying to revise chapter four once more now, to get into the story again. Anyway.
8146909
As it is now, there's nobody alive to date who knows he was her boyfriend. I've considered having them find a preserved journal or something but discarded the idea as too improbable and contrived. Concerning your other deliberations on Jenny, now those questions might be answered.
8154114 Thank you so much for your kind words. Keeping the plot small and un-epic was indeed one of the main premises before I set out to write this. The LPoE verse offers so many opportunities for this, and I love stories that are for the most part slice of life. I'm glad this worked out for you.
You are very welcome, this honestly makes me happy. Now I just need to find a pick-me-up as well and the next chapter will be written. It's the first chapter I'm nervous about, since the plotlines converge and it has to be good. I won't let this story die. It's my baby.
Aaaaaaaaaaaand I'm up to date.....
and now I'm sad because I've got nothing to read anymore...
8372055
Thanks for the comment! And I'm sad, too... it's been a few rough months and sadly I'm not one of those authors who can find strength in writing. It's looking up a little though and I have begun revising chapter four to get into the story again. Also, one of the later chapters is already written, strangely enough. TL;DR: not dead. Thanks for reading and commenting!
8372094
I know what you mean ^^' I'm also struggeling to continue one of my stories ^^'
I based a few characters in said story off of my brother and a bunch of my friends, but after my brother died I ...can't write his char anymore I hope I might become able to write him again , but for now I had to pause the story ... sorry I'm rambling.
I didn't meant to put pressure on you or anything, just wanted to let you know that I enjoy your Story and will await your next chapter
*cough* please soon *cough cough*
As the Orkney Islands are part of Scotland and the Unicorn is the national animal of Scotland; I can determine that most returnee unicorns in the Orkney Islands would see themselves as living symbols of Scotland. Do people agree with my statement or not agree with my statement?
The Mystical Unicorn Of Scotland
8801108
Heh... they just might, in time. England is the natural home of the griffons then on these isles (the lion), while Wales obviously is home to the dragons.
images.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=http%3A%2F%2F2.bp.blogspot.com%2F_Y5LwkrnUJQg%2FTPVo9bO88WI%2FAAAAAAAAANg%2Fh7VGZzYK8cI%2Fs1600%2F61543_127962913921567_100001235785593_167744_4082432_n.jpg&f=1
Added this to my tracking folder....in case it gets more updates
9313421
Thanks for holding out hope
It isn't dead, that's what I'm telling myself. I love my characters and the next chapter is partly written - it's just hard. One of the later chapters is even finished. I had some unpleasant experiences here on fimfiction back at the time I stopped writing and now I would have to see if my wonderful editor would be willing to pick up where I left. Anyway, glad you liked enough to track.
Aaaagh! This story is so fricken goood!
Just got all caught up and am loving it!
We needs all the updates!!
9329226
Thank you!
9329918
and I want to draw some art of the characters!
pick one, give me a note with their description, and imma draw you gift art!
This takes a while to get going, but once it's spun up, it's wonderfully engrossing. Eagerly looking forward to more, whenever it may come.
9397863
Thank you! The first three chapters were rewritten due to them being the result of me trying to write again after years. They were... not that good. I have the next chapter languishing at approximately 20% where it's been for a little more than a month now. A later chapter is already complete, strangely enough.
Anyway, thanks for the kind words. It means a lot.
Is there any chance that our protagonists will search the ruins of Kirkwall to find useful things to make their lives better?
Imagine this pony meeting as another version of the icy cave that’s featured in the Hearth's Warming Eve pageant; the cave where the three pony tribes came together to create a unified pony nation. That is the foremost need the ponies on these islands have; the need for all the herds to create a unified government.
This story has been so captivating and descriptive that most of the dreams I remember when I wake up take place in it lately. Usually I'm in multiple worlds simultaneously, so this says something about how much I've been enjoying this.
It's just been so amazing seeing how you weave the actual land into the story, progressing with time, projecting how things would go here, what the state of decay would be there, and how everyone grows up in that world, the things they don't know, or know because of books, or solely because someone told them, and how they put that knowledge to use.
And the broad and detailed cast of characters, and all of their relations and interactions make them feel so alive... I think your changing perspective with each chapter has a profound impact on how well the story reads, and we learn a great deal about the character in question from it. I find myself wanting to see what happens next, but I find myself just wanting to see each of these ponies interact with each other more, see them do their own things and watch how each of them has an impact in their world.
Thank you so much for your writing, and sharing it with us. Sitting down to read it has been my favorite way to settle down to sleep at the end of the day, and I am so looking forward to the next chapter when you finish it.
9583003
I... uhm, that has to be nicest thing someone ever has said about my writing.
Thank you.
This really made my day. I'm trying out a new method now, writing at least ten minutes a day (and buying a new bottle of Scapa to help with the process).
Again, thank you!
Aaaaaaaah! No new chapters!! PANIC! PANIC! PANIC!!! AAAAAAAAAAAA-
In all seriousness though, I want more. I need m̸͓̤̺̼̤̳̗͔͚̣̯̘͔͓̖ͬ̒̿͋̈́̀̽̑̕͡o̶̡͈̠͓̭͙̥̲̤̜͔͎̎̂̀̅̌̆ͫ͊ͭ̐͆̐ͅr̻̝̝͕͈̫ͮ̑̐̓ͧ̃ͭͥ̂̃́͑͢͡͝͝e̵̱̬̫̳̼̲͖͉̜̪͈̦͐̽̓̉̆ͨ̚̕.
What happened?
9879104
I don't know, but I just finished the story, and I'm disappointed to see nothing for last 3 years.
This is a really excellent story, and it's supremely frustrating to not have a conclusion.
9879104
9879208
Thanks for the praise and sorry for the lack of updates. What happened was that I had a very bad experience on fimfiction in general and in this particular group specifically. I also had some private things going on that didn't help at all. Killed my writing back then. Since then I've tried to continue the story several times but ended up discarding it because it just didn't hold up to the standard I'd set. I have the next chapter sitting at maybe 1/3 and, believe me, I'm just as frustrated as you sound. A later chapter is even already written.
I'll give it until the end of the year - if I haven't managed an update by then, I'll write about what should have happened during the remaining chapters. Just to not leave this story I love without some form of conclusion. Will be hard to keep the quality without my brilliant editor though, and I don't know if they'd be willing to pick this project up again after all this time. Not giving up yet though, there's a reason it doesn't say 'cancelled'.
But thanks for giving this story some love, it is very, very much appreciated.
9879537
Sorry about laying on you about this story.
I was looking through my tracked stories, and realized I have about 35 unfinished stories that I have been waiting very patiently for the authors to at the very least post something in the comments.
I try to remind myself that this is a hobby for vast majority of the author's writing fanfiction of any kind.
Most hobbyists don't have an audience waiting for them to finish sanding, and staining, the old Rocking Chair in their basement.
9880503
No problem at all
I didn't take it like that, and I'm doing that to myself anyway. I have a library folder called 'dusty tomes' that contains the kind of stories you mention. Anyway.
There's a story prompt, right here.
9881232
Don't get me started.... too late.
Beside the cracked road surface, behind the vegetable garden, on the porch of a house in an isolated suburb.
On an obviously hand-printed rough paper newspaper, is a headline.
" A 63% Record Unemployment, and Nobody Cares, But The Corporations."
4 feet down, and 2 feet back from the road. A middle-aged woman types. Sorry for the two-day delay folks, but I had to get a new battery for my car. Remember to please like, subscribe, and put some EBits in the tip jar.
The woman gets up, walks around her desk, turns on the lights, gets out sand paper (just got in the mail from a Nebraska maker. The real reason why she had to delay her broadcast) and states, "Siri turn on broadcast please".
You see. I have a personal pet theory that in the future there will be so much automation, that the world economy will end up running on UBI, and professional hobbyists being paid in digital currency, and only products made by human hands will have any real monetary value.
9879537
I'm horribly slow since I tend to be in too many places at once (even looking at how late this comment is), but I could offer to proofread things for you if you wished.
I read your story and really enjoyed it to many stories focus on the few remaining humans. Not really on everyone else yours was a very fresh feeling.
What a pity that this story was not completed.
I read it back in 2017 and now I'm re-reading it...
I realize I don't write most of my stories myself...
In my opinion, this was one of the most interesting fan stories in the LPOE universe.