A Dragon's Age

by BlazzingInferno

Lonely Mountain

As I sat in the train the next morning, I could still feel all my friends’ forelegs around me in our final, rib-crushing embrace. I could still hear them saying goodbye. Most of all, I could still see the mountain inside my head. If I closed my eyes, I could picture it and imagine my mom and dad, two big and majestic dragons, guarding a hoard of eggs just like mine.

There wasn’t much to do on the train, besides go through my possessions for the hundredth time, or watch the surprisingly boring scenery through the window. At first the trip had felt exciting. The cabin had emptied and refilled at each major stop, sometimes with high-class ponies on their way from one big city to the next, sometimes with farmers going to a big exhibition in the country, and once with a bunch of fillies and colts on a school field trip. The one constant was the weird looks they’d give me, the one and only dragon onboard.

In the morning I was all alone. The train must have emptied out late last night, during one of the many stops I’d slept through. Without ponies to watch, I was completely out of things to do. I looked down at my legs dangling in the air, and the generous gap between my feet and the carpet. A pony wouldn’t sit like this on the train, not when they could just scoot back and rest their front hooves on the seat. Next I looked up at the emergency pull cord running along the ceiling. The older fillies from the field trip could’ve reached up there if they stood on two legs, but I couldn’t even reach it if I jumped. No matter how young or old I was in dragon years, somehow it didn’t feel like it mattered; all that mattered was that I was too small for the pony world.

The train decelerated abruptly, nearly toppling over my bag on the seat next to me. I cradled the bag in my arms. I couldn’t let anything happen to all my gifts, especially not the bag holding them all. The wheels beneath the cabin squealed on the tracks, and a few seconds later the whole train shuddered to a full stop.

A door at the front of the cabin opened, and the conductor trotted in on three legs. His fourth leg always seemed to be busy holding his pocket watch. “End of the line. All out for…”

He lowered the watch and looked at me. I knew exactly what he was going to say; we’d had this same conversation when I boarded last night. “You sure this is where you want off, son? Only prospectors ever come out this far. There’s a whole lot of nothing out there, not a single pony around for—”

I slid off my seat and put on my pack. “Yeah, I’m sure already. My ticket says end of the line, round trip. This is where I’m getting off.”

He nodded. “Suit yourself. The train stops here every few days, but there’s no set schedule for that.”

I was already heading for the door. I could feel the vials of magic from Twilight sloshing around with each step I took. “I’ll be okay.”

---

I’d felt out of place on the train, but out here the train itself looked out of place. Dry, cracked dirt stretched from horizon to horizon, interrupted only by rocky knolls, leafless trees, and the occasional clump of grass. Even the skies looked wild; dull grey clouds hung in the deep blue, too dark to be friendly, but not dark enough to mean rain. The straight train tracks and the gentle curves of the cars were the only normal looking things.

The train chugged away just as quickly as it had arrived. I watched it retreat down the tracks for a minute and imagined the conductor shaking his head. He probably thought I was crazy, or maybe that I was just doing some weird dragon migration thing. It wasn’t as if he saw dragons on a regular basis anyway.

Figuring out which way to go couldn’t have been easier. The single mountain on the horizon had a thin but unmistakable column of smoke rising from it. I fished the compass out of my pack, one of the few smart things I’d thought to bring all on my own, and tried to memorize the reading. Getting to the mountain would be simple enough, and as long as I could point myself in the direction of the train tracks, I could get back just as easily.

I put the compass away and, after a deep breath, started to walk. My own footsteps were startlingly loud in the still air. There wasn’t any other sound to cover up my claws scraping against the hard earth: there were no chirping birds, rustling tree leaves, or flowing water. That last one would be fixed in a few hours, when I reached the river that I’d be following the rest of the way. That was what my map said, at least. I had a canteen to last me until then, plus Rainbow’s bottled raincloud if I really needed it.

Not that I’d need it, of course.

The cadence of my steps quickened. Seeing ground completely devoid of hoofprints put me even more on edge than the thought of running out of water.

I pulled on the brim of my hat. “You’ve got this, Spike. Applejack doesn’t give out hats every day, you know.”

My breathing began to slow down, even if my footsteps didn’t.

I kept up that quick pace all day and into the evening. The fading light made keeping up my spirits even harder. Wearing a hat now felt silly when the sun was at my back. Worse, I still hadn’t found the river I supposed to follow all the way to the mountain.

“Come on, Spike. You’ve got this. So what if you’re out there on your own? You’re doing great!”

I didn’t believe it. I kept thinking about what my friends would’ve been doing at this time of the day. Most of them were probably eating dinner, maybe even trading stories about how proud they were of me. Hopefully somebody checked on Twilight today; without me around, I sometimes wonder if she’d remember to eat at all. I can’t count the number of times I’ve caught her sleeping with her face in a book.

My stomach rumbled. “Guess that’s means I should eat too. I’ve walked far enough for today, right?”

I didn’t know who I expected to answer. Anyone would’ve been nice, really. This place felt so empty, like I was the only living thing left in the world. I knew that wasn’t true, though. The ground was riddled with blank scorch marks and claw-shaped gouges, and littered with tiny gem fragments. This was definitely dragon country, even if I was six months late for the migration.

“Okay, Spike. Dragons come through here every year by choice. That means there has to be gems around here some—”

And then I found where the river used to be. I tumbled down the gully, rolling through parched dirt until I finally came to a crashing halt at the bottom, shaken, stunned, and wailing like I’d just seen a ghost. I lay there for a minute, catching my breath and wondering if my screams could’ve carried all the way to Ponyville.

One of my claws felt something wet. In a moment of panic, I jumped up and checked every place I’d felt a rock jab me to see if I was bleeding. All of Twilight’s dire warnings about being careful and how I was only a baby dragon came flooding back. A few seconds later I actually looked at my claw and saw that it just had water on it. The remnants of the river, a tiny stream barely a inch deep, was silently flowing right in front of me. A little water-borne dust cloud, from where my fall disturbed the water, was drifting its way downstream.

Jagged rocks lined the bottom of the riverbed, including the spot where I’d landed. I brushed a claw against the scales on my belly, dislodging a few pebbles in the process. The rocks underneath me were completely pulverized, and yet I hadn’t gotten a scratch. “Maybe I can do this after all.”

I took my time climbing out of the gully, but not for fear of falling. Each step felt different from before. All of the pep talks in the world couldn’t measure up to seeing my own scales win in a fight with a rock-turned-spear.

Gem hunting could wait for tomorrow. I set my gear down against a nearby boulder and started to unpack. For dinner I could stick with one of the sandwiches I’d packed, plus some of Applejack’s chips. The cloth bag smelled like the farm: freshly turned soil, blooming flowers, and ripening fruit. I undid the drawstring and popped one of the brittle apple slices in my mouth; the taste was even better than the smell. Digging around in the dirt could definitely wait for tomorrow.

I pulled out Fluttershy’s blanket next. I breathed in the scents of a dozen different animals, not to mention her cottage, as I folded it into a makeshift sleeping bag. My claws followed the tiny stitches along the edge, needlework so intricate that one of her mice must have done it. This wasn’t the super-fancy kind of thing that Rarity would make, but it still had a special kind of warmth to it, like all of Fluttershy’s little friends were wishing me luck, too.

The sun kissed the horizon just as I finished my sandwich. Celestia was out there somewhere, lowering the sun right now. She was probably on her private balcony just outside her bedroom. She doesn’t know it, but I used to watch her move the sun when I was still sleeping in a crib in her room. She thought I was always asleep by then, but if I could stay awake long enough, I’d sit up and watch her standing there, silhouetted against the blinding sunlight. That was before I asked to be Twilight’s assistant, or even really knew who she was other than some purple thing that talked a lot.

“Night, Celestia. Thanks for everyth—”

The sun didn’t set. It stayed there, a tiny sliver of orange peeking over the land, for a full second before disappearing for the night. Suddenly I felt warm all over. Celestia was out there all right, and she was thinking of me. She’d even given me an extra second of her sunlight just to let me know.

I could do this. Celestia believed in me. Celestia was proud of me. At that moment, that’s all I needed to know.

Comments

[Hillbe]

img15.deviantart.net/f53f/i/2015/268/9/6/lava_pool_by_hillbe-d9aupzy.jpg
"No crazy ponies No Twis OCD No Rarity. . .sigh I wonder if mom & dad Know or approve of her or them?"

[River Babble]

I'm really enjoying this; you do such a good job capturing Spike's voice. Reading this feels warm and homey, and I find myself rooting for Spike and really feeling like I can understand his feelings. I'm excited that this story is finished and that I'll be able to read the whole thing; I can't wait to see what happens when he actually meets his 'parent(s)', even if it sounds from the opening chapter like it might not be so great. Keep up the lovely work, and thanks for the fun read!

[Cookie_Girl]

...I thought this was going to be a crossover... :I

[DT42]

6695254 Of what?

[Cookie_Girl]

6695697 ...of Dragon Age...the rpg.

[resonance]

s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/6e/e1/df/6ee1df59ba97f12d08a9749d5fe5aeba.jpg

that little bit with the sunset got to me.

reminded me of my first phone call at basic. my mother wouldn't hang up and i wasn't yet an asshole. the push ups were worth it.

well, spike ole boy, hope you don't fall again and shatter the teleport container, so your bag doesn't go home without you.

[Inferno demon Dash]

This must be so very hard on Celestia, seeing her son take such a harrowing journey.

[Lapzidorus]

I looked down at my legs dangling in the air...A pony wouldn't sit like this an a train, not when they could just sit back with their front hooves on the seat.

I don't think Lyra is the only pony who would say otherwise, Spike.