An Eastern Equestrian Hearth's Warming

by Elkia Deerling

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Step by step Rivet Punch trudged through the thick snow, which lay on the road to the point where it almost touched his upper legs. It was good that he remembered where the path was, otherwise one most certainly would have lost it. Although it wouldn’t be very likely for Rivet himself to lose the path, for he had trodden it countless times, day after day, to his work. But Rivet Punch wasn’t going to work. In fact, he was going home; he was done for the day.

He took a deep breath, sniffing the sharp but refreshing winter night air, and smiled softly. There was nothing which could chase away the cloud of tiredness better than the pure Eastern Equestrian breezes. And there was nothing which could lift the spirits better than Luna’s full moon, which shone overhead, and tried its best to help Rivet see just a tiny bit more in the heavy darkness.

The cold outside was a stark contrast to the oppressing heat of the smelting ovens, and Rivet Punch silently wondered which one he preferred. He sighed. It had been a long day, as always, in the steel factory where he worked. He went there every single day, working from early in the morning to late in the evening, rarely taking any vacations. He had to, for he had a family to take care of.

Rivet Punch shook his head, as if trying to shake the workload off his shoulders. Luckily it was easy for him to forget about the day and look on ahead, as every working day was usually the same, and because Rivet knew that back home, his family would be waiting for him.

The snow-covered path turned to the left past a stretch of woodlands, full of dark pine trees. Suddenly, a hoot resounded through the darkness ahead. Rivet Punch looked up, and soon found the owl, sitting on a pine branch. The dark-red stallion stood still for a moment and gazed at the bird. He still couldn’t see much in the darkness, but the moonlight made the owl’s eyes glimmer like stars. The two animals gazed at each other, and Rivet’s eyes became lost in the two stars in the treetop, captivated by their spooky but infinite shine. An infinite, piercing gaze; pools of infinite wisdom.

“Hoot.”

The owl turned its head one-hundred-and-eighty degrees and cast a thoughtful glance at the nightly intruder below him. Then it turned its head back again and flapped its wings, flying into the fields in search of a late dinner.

“Beautiful,” Rivet Punch muttered to himself, as he watched the carefree bird. The owl would probably not spend a whole day trapped in a blazing-hot and ear-splitting loud smelting workshop. No, it would more likely roam the silent night, free to go wherever it wants, carried only by the wind and its wings instead of coal, steam, and heavy engines.

How unlike the two animals were: one trudging clumsily through the snow; the other flying gracefully through the night sky. One looking thoughtful; the other looking doubtful. The wise look of the owl made Rivet Punch instantly recall his doubts and worries which he had tried to whisk out of his head. He didn’t like to think much, and especially not about negative things, but the only thing that was on his mind right now, was something which could make him lose everything he cared for.

Rivet Punch frowned and grunted as the memories came back to him. In the afternoon he had accidentally overheard a conversation between the factory director and somepony else. He couldn’t really remember much of it, as the conversation had been sprinkled with economic and business jargon, but the bottom line was: the steel factory would soon be shut down—a few weeks before Hearth’s Warming, in fact. Of course, Rivet Punch could have seen that one coming, considering the steady decline of his salary every month, but he hadn’t thought of it; hadn’t thought of it at all.

Rivet shook his head; a few snowflakes fell on the path. Rivet would lose his job, and not only he himself, but also everypony else in the tiny little village where he lived. He remembered all the laughing stallions in the town bar: rough-looking workers, their conversations adorned with strong talk. All of them worked at the steel factory; all of them would lose their livelihood. The steel factory was practically the only source of work in the area. From what Rivet had heard from the oldest stallions, it had long ago been erected in the ore-rich valley, and had sprouted the cozy little village to house the workers and their families.

“How is everypony going to keep their families alive?” Rivet Punch said to himself, as he kicked away more snow. He didn’t know. He had no idea. Hearth’s Warming was only a few weeks away. Normally, Eastern Equestrian Hearth’s Warming was a time of happiness and coziness, when everypony would come together and celebrate the founding of Equestria with their families and friends. There would be games, talk, vodka, presents, food… Rivet Punch licked his lips as he thought of the traditional Eastern Equestrian Hearth’s Warming dish: eggs filled with the tastiest spices and mashed vegetables. A thin smile reappeared on Rivet’s face. Some ponies tried to make these filled eggs themselves, but Rivet knew, as well as anypony, that the best ones were sold by Fabergem, the town confectioner. Fabergem never painted the eggs, though. That task was given to the young fillies and colts in the village, who did it with delight. Another beautiful tradition, Rivet Punch thought.

But how was Hearth’s Warming going to look like now, with the source of income of everypony obliterated? One thing was certain: it would be a very scanty celebration—if anypony would celebrate Hearth’s Warming at all.

A sudden scuttling sound broke Rivet’s concentration. He stopped plowing and looked around, but he couldn’t see anything. Probably another nocturnal animal, he thought. Rivet put a hoof to his chin. “All this thinking is slowing me down,” he said to himself, “and this talking to myself too.” So Rivet Punch brought his attention back to his struggle through the snow, sweeping away bucket-loads at a time with heavy booted hooves. Despite the cold, beads of sweat started dripping down his bristly eyebrows, and clouds of deep breaths floated through his nostrils.

Going on like this for a while, Rivet tried his best to keep himself from thinking. He let his tired thoughts stray away, so as not to think about the long way he still had to walk. His thoughts soon proved to have a will of their own, however, and before he realized it, Rivet was raking through his memory in search of slivers from the conversation he’d overheard. What did the boss say again… Something about steel prices…

Rivet Punch’s village was actually not the only settlement which provided steel for the industrialized, resource-gulping economy of Canterlot and its surrounding towns. Farther south and east, across the Celestial Sea, laid Griffonstone, perching high on one of the peaks of the Hyperborean Mountains, which snaked away to the East. Griffonstone was home to many strong and proud griffins, and the Hyperborean Mountains turned out to be full of iron-ore and coal. It had taken a while, but since a few years griffins had started to produce steel as well, and sent it to Baltimare and Canterlot by ship. Unknown to Rivet Punch, this war for the cheapest steel prices in Equestria, otherwise known as the ‘steel strive’, had been going on for some years already. Slowly and steadily, however, the price of shipping overseas had dropped and the griffins were getting more and more productive, producing steel by the shipload. The griffins were bigger, stronger and fitter than the ponies, due to their build and intensive flying—even more importantly,—there were many more griffins in Griffonstone than there were ponies living in Rivet’s village. The Eastern-Equestrian Board of Industry and Trade had decided nonchalantly that the pony steel factory just wouldn’t do. Instead they wanted to shift the focal point of the ‘Equestrian steel exploits’ to Griffonstone, where there was more ore, and cheaper transport by boat compared to railways.

Rivet Punch sighed. That was exactly what the director had said behind the closed office door. The big stallion was unsure whether he should be glad he remembered all of it or not; now he knew his fate, but sadly not his future.

But then his spirits lifted a little, as he saw how far he’d come already, plowing through the powdery snow. It was only a mile or two more to the village, and Rivet could see a few lights like owl’s eyes glinting in the distance. To his right, the stretch of forest had almost ended in its southernmost limb, abruptly leaving miles and miles of primal woodlands behind itself. To the left there were fields, long abandoned and covered in a blanket of snow, as if the white sheet wanted to cover all traces of the former owners. A half-ruined barn still stood erect; a memento of the farmponies that migrated to warmer lands, and a shelter to winter critters, if they dared to enter the half-rotten shack. It reminded Rivet about his own farm back home; the one he had set up to give him and his family some support when his salary started to become too scrawny. He just hoped his farm wouldn’t end the way this one had ended; dead and deserted.

Rivet Punch stopped and looked down ahead into the lit-up valley. A warmth bubbled up inside of him, as he imagined himself home again with the warmth of his stove and the warmth of his family; although the children would probably be sleeping at this hour. It was strange how the thought of his family filled him with both delight and worry. Delighted at seeing them again after a long working day, but worried about how he had to tell them the bad news.

Suddenly, a cold cry shattered Rivet’s warm thoughts. It wasn’t the mysterious cry of an owl or the calls of foxes or moose, it was something else. Rivet jolted to a halt and strained his eyes in the gloom, looking left and right, but both the night and the gentle snowfall obstructed his view.

The cry echoed again, louder and sharper this time. Rivet’s right ear twitched and he turned his head. There, on the brim of the forest lands, faint shapes were moving between the tall pines on the tree line. Rivet jumped over a heap of snow and slogged closer to the mysterious shapes and sounds. The snow grew gradually less thick as he reached the first trees. Rivet could now see that one shape was high up in the air, zipping through the leaf-crowns of the trees, while the other was on the ground, frozen in fear. An eagle’s screech made Rivet winch, and he saw the bird circling above and then diving on its prey: a baby grizzly.

“Giant eagle?”

Rivet Punch knew that everything in Eastern Equestria was tough, big, and extreme. The land, the ponies, the animals. Rivet looked at both animals and shuffled on his hooves. He had never seen such a strange thing before: eagles attacking baby bears.

The eagle dropped down on the poor grizzly bear and clawed at it. The bear let out a terrified scream. Behind it, the eagle pulled up again, and left a trail of red on the white snow. Quickly the bird regained altitude, circled a few times above the treetops, and then dived in for a second attack. This time, however, the baby grizzly rolled to the side, his fall broken by the soft snow. The only thing the eagle ripped through was the blanket of white powder, and he flapped his wings in anger, priming himself for a third death-dive.

All the while Rivet Punch stood at a distance, unsure what to do. Should he let this happen? It was nature, after all, and nature was cruel sometimes. But then he shook his head and frowned. It is just a little baby!

Rivet sprang like a rabbit through the snow and covered the remaining distance quickly. The eagle hadn’t noticed him yet. Rummaging through his pack, Rivet brought out his big, steel hammer and scanned the sky. The shadow of the bird extinguished a trail of stars, and when its shape hung in front of the moon, Rivet Punch threw the hammer with all his might in the direction of the eagle.

But the beast was quicker than he thought, and dodged the heavy tool, which fell harmlessly to the ground. The bald eagle let out a furious squawk, and turned its cold eyes on the red stallion below. Rivet Punch looked to his right, and noticed that the baby grizzly had disappeared. Now Rivet was the one who was in trouble.

The bald eagle flew high up in the air, braced itself, and then launched upon the stallion, diving as fast as it could.

“Njet!” Rivet yelled, and rolled to the side, just as he’d seen the grizzly do. He heard the sickening, grating sound of the eagle’s claws on the frozen ground. Rivet turned his head, but there were only a few feathers; the eagle was in the air again.

Rivet threw his head around to scan the surroundings, looking for another projectile to throw. He spotted a few stones lying near a tree-trunk, but they were much too small to knock a giant eagle out of the sky. The moon became obscured for a second as the beast flew in front of it, and when the silvery light returned, Rivet saw something caught in its rays, glistening in the snow. Half stumbling half swimming, Rivet rushed to the shine, plunged his nose in the snow, and grabbed hold of the thing. It was an old farmer’s tool, probably left behind by somepony: a sickle.

A spine-cracking screech made Rivet jump. He turned around, gazing straight into the murderous eyes of the diving eagle. With only a split-second to react, Rivet spun around and let go of the sickle, throwing it at the monster like a disc. The tool spun and whizzed through the air, found its mark, and bit viciously in the right wing of the eagle. The sheer force of the throw pinned the eagle against a pine tree, and left it hanging by only a few crooked feathers in its wing. Both the stallion and the eagle froze for a moment in surprise. The shock of it all made the eagle lay an egg spontaneously, which plopped down in the snow. Rivet Punch shook his head and regained his wits, but the eagle was much quicker. It wriggled a bit, and with a loud rip, the bird broke free of its awkward pose. Disheveled and with a dented pride, the creature flew away unsteadily, hindered by its injured wing, and losing more than a few feathers in the flight.

Rivet Punch sighed, and watched the eagle go until it was just a wobbling speck against the moonlit night sky. “You won’t be hunting any baby bears tonight,” he said with a sour grin.

Sitting down on his haunches, Rivet took a moment to catch his breath. His legs felt like rubber as the adrenaline surge gradually left his body. After working all day, plowing himself a way through the snow, and fighting a big, bald eagle, Rivet Punch was exhausted. His big muscles quavered with every movement and he winched. “I’m going to feel that in the morning.”

After sitting quietly and resting like that for a while, Rivet felt goosebumps creep up his front legs. It was getting cold. He let out a couple more clouds of heavy breath and scrambled to his hooves. I should go home, he thought, and started gathering his strength and will to brave the elements once more. But first… he thought with a smile, as he headed to the tree where he’d pinned the eagle onto. The sickle still stuck out of the wood, and a few feathers lay scattered on the snow below. Rivet ducked, rummaged through the snow and the plumes, and let out a triumphant laugh. Ha! This could be nice for Heart’s Warming, he thought to himself, balancing a large eagle egg on his nose. A little reward for my good deed.

With some effort, Rivet put the egg into his pack and stepped back in the direction of the path, frowning and snorting; he wouldn’t get distracted anymore tonight. The moment he put his fore hoof to the ground, however, Rivet noticed something strange: the warm wisps of his breath. The vapors didn’t rise and disappear as they normally do when one breathes in cold weather, but instead hovered in front of his nose, floating in mid-air. “Huh?” Rivet said sullenly, and stuck out a big hoof to whisk them away. But the vapors didn’t go away; they merely reformed again after his hoof cut them in two; and what’s more: they started descending towards the ground. Rivet Punch followed the cloud with his gaze, unusually captivated by the strangeness of it all. Somehow, Rivet had the uneasy feeling he wasn’t able to continue his way before he’d solved this mystery. When he looked down, he saw that the ground was entirely covered in mist, in which his breath sank down and mingled. With another big hoof, Rivet started drawing circles in the mist, as if stirring a soup; a big, gray, cloudy soup. Rivet did not wish to become part of a soup. He crouched down and stuck out his tongue. Doesn’t taste like soup… then he inhaled deeply. Doesn’t smell like soup…

After another minute of gazing in the swirling vapors, Rivet drew his plain conclusion: It’s just mist. Slowly, careful enough not to over-stretch any sore muscles, Rivet stood up and gazed ahead, looking straight in the face of a gigantic grizzly bear, their noses almost touching each other.

The stallion gave out a yelp and stumbled backwards. He landed on his haunches in the snow and scuttled away as the grizzly moved towards him, almost floating in the vapors. The beast’s enormous paws left deep footprints in the mist and the snow, and it stepped closer. Its facial expression was unreadable, and its eyes glimmered like freshly sharpened axes. When the beast opened its mouth and revealed a couple of knife-like canines, Rivet was sure he knew what was going to happen.

“Thank you, comrade pony, for saving my little son.”

A baby grizzly bear shuffled from underneath its mother, looking at the stallion with big eyes.

“W-what?” Rivet stuttered, flabbergasted.

“You can hear me, don’t you?” the bear growled, and moved in even closer, as if she thought the stallion couldn’t hear what she said. “You speak common Equestrian, right? Or should I say ‘spasibo’ in your language?”

“Eh… Thank you is good.” Rivet had no idea what to say, what to do or what to think.

The bear frowned; her heavy, fur lined brows almost covering her predatory eyes. “What?” she bellowed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“Eh… I-I-I—“

“Spit it out, pony!”

“I-it’s just… I’ve never seen a talking bear before,” Rivet managed to cram out of his mouth.

To that, the bear’s features softened a little. “Of course… you have never seen a talking bear before,” she repeated, more to herself than to the trembling stallion in front of her. “I should have realized that.”

“W-what?” Rivet dared to ask.

“I’m an unusual kind. Don’t ask anything more about it,” the bear said starkly; Rivet Punch shut his mouth.

“Now listen closely,” the bear continued, and let out a grumble which sounded like clearing her throat. “You have never seen a talking bear before, and I have never seen a pony care that much about nature and life before. If it weren’t for you, my little son would be dead.”

Rivet said nothing.

“As a token of my gratitude, I will share with you”—the bear looked left and right—“my greatest and most wonderful secret…”

To the words ‘great’ and ‘wonderful’ Rivet opened his eyes wide. He was totally not in the mood for any more ‘great’ and ‘wonderful’ things. He thought he’d had his fair share of ‘great’ and ‘wonderful’ things this evening. Rivet just wanted to go back home, but how was he going to tell that to this grumpy old grizzly without him getting eaten?

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” he began, trying to suppress the quavering in his voice. “It was nothing, I—“

“NOTHING?! NOTHING?!” the bear roared, rising up on her hind paws. “You have saved a cub’s life! MY cub’s life! It looks like you’re the most caring and most IMPOLITE pony I’ve ever seen! You SHOULD get a reward for your brave deed. You cannot refuse!” The bear looked down at Rivet Punch, who became dwarfed by the height of she herself. At the sight of the red stallion, cowering and covering his head with his hooves, the bear calmed down a bit and dropped to all fours again. “Come! You deserve this!” she growled with a heavy sigh. Then she turned around and began to walk deeper into the misty forest; her cub trotting off cheerfully in another direction.

Rivet Punch was unsure what to do. The dark, gloomy forest didn’t look that inviting at all, but he felt like the bear’s offer was one he couldn’t refuse. He swallowed, got on his hooves, and cantered towards the trees.

* *

The forest was dark; even darker than it had looked from the outside. Enormous pine trees reached far into the sky and seemed to absorb the moonlight in their needles. The trees groaned and creaked beneath their heavy, snowy burden, occasionally throwing some of it on the white ground below. Rivet Punch looked up, but couldn’t possibly see either the moon or the leaf-crowns of the trees; it was much too dark for that.

A strange feeling of uneasiness controlled him. He could hardly see a hoof before his eyes. In fact, he couldn’t even see his hooves on the path a few yards ahead. The mist hadn’t retreated yet and lingered in the forest as far as he could see, leaving Rivet and Silnyy walking on an ever-following island in the middle of a mysterious, misty ocean. The forest was eerily quiet; no sounds filled the air. Not the rustle of the wind through the branches, not the flapping of birds’ wings, not the skittering of critters. Nothing except for the occasional loud crunch of rocks, grinded by the bear’s heavy claws. Rivet’s uneasiness became accompanied with disorientation. There was no way he could pinpoint exactly where he was in the forest—and not only because he’d never been in it before. He couldn’t see the moon, and it was equally impossible to use landmarks to his advantage, for the land between the tree-trunks was either levelled out by a thick pack of snow, or obscured in the nightly mist. It looked as if the forest was frozen in time; undiscovered, or abandoned by everyone.

Rivet had a bad feeling about all this. What if the bear led him somewhere far away where nopony would hear his screams and where nopony would find his chewed up bones? And even if he’d escape, he’d be lost in the woods, unable to find his way back to safety and civilization… Rivet blinked hard and shivered at the thought, but then another thought struck him; he turned his head around with a jerk. To Rivet’s disappointment and shock, he didn’t leave any hoofprints behind him. Even the wide, dragging trail of the bear couldn’t be seen. Just an unspoiled, unbroken snowy blanket, topped by mist.

They continued like this for a while, the bear waltzing through the snow and Rivet Punch trotting behind in the trail. But finally Rivet couldn’t stand the eerie silence and the strangeness anymore. He dug through his mind for a polite way to ask the stark bear in front of him about his findings. After another minute, Rivet trotted next to the bear, who didn’t slow down.

“Eh… Comrade bear, can I ask you something?”

“Make it quick!” the bear growled without turning her head.

Rivet swallowed. “Th-the trail behind us is—”

“Gone. I know!” the bear interrupted.

“But how’s that poss—“

“Because I don’t want anyone to follow us. Don’t ask anything more about it!”

Rivet Punch didn’t dare to say anything else and fell behind the hulking bear again. Once more he looked over his shoulder, and once more he saw nothing but snow and trees. Strange…

After another half hour, the steady snowfall diminished, and so did Rivet’s fear. Visibility increased a little, as Rivet’s eyes adjusted to the darkness as best as they could—it calmed him down a bit. Still the eerie silence pressed on him like the heat of a thousand smelting ovens, so he gathered his wits and accelerated, determined to have at least another try at friendly conversation with the bear.

“Comrade bear.”

The bear let out a soft grunt, which Rivet took as a ‘yes.’ He rasped his throat.

“Well, now that we’re travelling together, I feel like I should tell you my name—out of politeness, you know?” Although Rivet wasn’t entirely sure if telling a big, dangerous grizzly his name was a good idea, he couldn’t really come up with anything better at the moment. “My name is—“

“Rivet Punch Macintoshky. I know,” the bear grumbled, “and you talk too much. There’s still a long way to go!”

Rivet let out a gasp and lost his speed. But he quickly galloped next to the bear again, who was accelerating suddenly. “H-how do you know my name?”

The bear growled and blinked her tiny round eyes as if in pain. “I just know. Don’t ask anything more about it.”

“But—“

“My name is Silnyy.” The bear roared, turning her head to the side of the stallion. “Now you know my name too, and now we’re even, ja?”

“O-o-ok,” Rivet stuttered, and didn’t dare to say anything more for a long time. He trotted behind again.

The surrounding trees seemed to grow less dense as Rivet and Silnyy progressed. Low bumps gradually grew into rolling, rocky hills. The trees grew less and less in number, as the soil grew harder and harder, until they were nothing but hard, barren, and infertile rocks.

They had been going on for at least an hour, Rivet estimated, although he couldn’t know for certain in this strange forest. What he did know, was that there were mountains further west of his village: the Yaket Range, forming the northernmost border of Equestria. Rivet sighed in relief, content that he had at least a vague idea in which direction he was going. How else could he explain the sudden change in terrain? The hills would have to become higher and higher, until they would be as big as mountains, forming the eastern slopes of the Yaket Range. But as the bear trudged onwards and he galloped behind, the hills didn’t grow at all. They stayed at exactly the same height, although they felt like they were becoming increasingly treacherous. Through a thinning layer of snow, Rivet spotted grey rocks, which crunched underneath his hooves. There were many gaps as well, and he had to be careful not to step into any of them and break his leg. When Rivet Punch looked ahead, he saw why: the bear had led him straight into the hilled part of the forest and they were almost to the top of one of the bald hills.

Suddenly Rivet stumbled and lost his balance; a snow-filled hole had caught his hoof. With great effort, the stallion regained his savvy and galloped on. “Alright! That’s it!” he said with a frown, and rushed on ahead until he was next to the bear again.

“Comrade Silnyy!”

“Not now!”

“Yes now!” Rivet said, determined to get some answers this time. “I want to know where you are taking me. I don’t know this land. I’m not going a step further until you tell me!”

Silnyy’s big brown lips curled up into a smile. “Good,” she said, without slowing down.

There was a tiny silence, only the panting of the animals and the sound of snow being shoved snow breaking it.

“So…? Tell me!” Rivet said.

“Njet.”

Planting his hooves firmly in the snow, Rivet Punch slid to a sudden halt. Silnyy turned around. “What are you doing?” she roared.

“Not going further until you tell me where we are going,” Rivet said back.

Silnyy stepped closer, flashing a tiny smile. “Ok. Then I am going on without you. Do you know the way back?”

Rivet looked over his shoulder: snow and mist. “Eh… I’ll figure it out.”

Silnyy let out a high growl which sounded like something between a laugh and a smirk. “No you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.”

“No you won’t. Now follow me again.” The bear turned around and moved towards the hills. “This is not the time for being stupid, pony. Besides”—she turned her head and threw a piercing glance at Rivet—“we’re almost there.”

And so they continued again, Silnyy taking the lead, Rivet Punch following reluctantly. The light dimmed as clouds moved before the full moon. Rivet’s despair grew, but for once, the bear had been clear in her speech. After just one more small hill, she stopped.

“Are we there yet?” Rivet asked.

“Ja. This is it.”

Rivet looked around. The top of the hill turned out to be a small plateau of a much larger hill; almost a mountain. Before him, a steep wall of grim, uneven rocks climbed up towards the top of the mountain. The top couldn’t be seen, however, because the rock-wall tilted over him, as if a giant creature had taken a bite out of the mountain. To his right, Rivet noticed a black hole in the rock; a void which swallowed all the remaining moonlight.

Silnyy walked towards the cave, motioning for the pony to follow.

Rivet Punch peered into the blackness, but couldn’t see anything of interest; just a plain, old cave, perhaps the bear’s lair.

The bear’s lair! But that can only mean one thing!

Rivet Punch swallowed and looked back. The bear had bared its teeth in a predatory smile and walked slowly in his direction. There was nowhere to go. Rivet wobbled on his knees and took an unsteady step back. Then another. And then a third. He was inside the mountain now, looking back at the mouth of the cave and the mouth of the bear before it. The bear’s teeth shimmered in the fading moonlight, and its eyes gazed at him with delight.

“Why are you doing this?” Rivet’s voice croaked with fear. “I saved your son!”

But inside, Rivet knew why Silnyy had led him to her lair: it was winter. Bears eat themselves fat and then go into hibernation. Silnyy was hungry.

“You will see…” the bear said with a heavy growl. “Now shut up. I’m growing tired of you.”

She came closer and closer. Rivet could feel the sharp claws tearing at his hide, mauling, scratching, ripping him apart. He fell to his haunches, and covered his head with his hooves, as if that would somehow stop the beast.

Suddenly, a ray of moonlight broke through the clouds, and streamed into the cave entrance. The cave shimmered and pulsed around Rivet Punch; the light blinded him. Rivet couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear anything. He fell to the rocky floor on his back, covering his eyes with his hooves.

Rivet didn’t know how long he laid there. A minute? Five minutes? Ten minutes? An eerie silence filled the cave; not even the breath of the grizzly bear could be heard. Shaking heavily, Rivet slowly removed his hooves and gazed in front of him; Silnyy was gone. But then the cave claimed his attention, because despite the light having faded a little, its walls were still shimmering. He looked around, and couldn’t believe what he saw: gold!

The cave walls glittered with shiny yellow ribbons, flowing through the cave on either side. The silver moonlight and the stallion’s shadow made the gold veins dance in front of his eyes. “Unbelievable,” Rivet Punch whispered, as he gazed with an open mouth at the riches around him. Slowly he walked further into the cave, swinging his head to the left and the right, and even above. There was gold ore everywhere he looked, and Rivet began to think that there was more gold than rock inside the cave. There was probably even more value in gold than all the bits of all the villagers combined. The end of the cave was partially covered in darkness, but Rivet didn’t have to venture that far; it was a dead end. Out of curiosity, he laid his ear against the rock in front of him and tapped it gently with a hoof. I wonder how far these veins stretch, he thought.

Rivet turned around and walked back to the cave entrance again, all the while still looking around in amazement. A thousand options, opportunities and ideas streamed through his head as he thought about the things he could do with all the gold. Nothing. He couldn’t do anything with it, unless he was able to mine it out of the rock, and Rivet Punch was a metalworker, not a miner. But a smile quickly appeared on Rivet’s face, as he thought of a certain unicorn who would definitely be able to help him.

Then his smile faded, and a stabbing gust of wind brought him back to the present. But how am I going to get back? he thought, and remembered the odd lack of hoofsteps he saw during the forest trek. There was no way to backtrack through the forest, as he and the bear hadn’t left any tracks behind. Rivet walked to the edge of the plateau and looked down. Surely he could find out how to get down from there, but every tree and every hill in the forest itself looked the same to him. The soup-like mist had disappeared, but that made the peeking stallion even more worried, as he couldn’t see any hoof- or pawsteps on the rocks and snow below. Not even from the bear, who must surely have been climbing down the plateau. Rivet started pacing in circles as he ran through his mind for a solution. Should I just stay here and wait for Silnyy to return? A cold wind made him shiver. But how long will that take?

For a long while Rivet Punch stood there, on the ridge, pacing up and down in deep concentration. The wind began to blow harder, so Rivet thought harder too; until finally, the cold draft made him tremble in his horseshoes, and he made a forced decision. The big red stallion stepped off the ridge, as slow and careful as the slippery stones allowed, and cantered down the slope of the hill, drawing a small cloud of dust and pebbles behind him. “Whoa!” he yelled. He lost his footing, regained it, lost it again, found it once more. Rivet didn’t know how he did it, but in the end he made it down in one piece. He sighed a sigh laden with relief, and started to look around the clearing he’d just plunged himself into.

The forested hills surrounded him on all sides. Everywhere he looked, there was white, green, and the brown of the hills. Very gradually, sounds began to creep back into the forest: a hoot, a scuttle, the grating of falling rocks—the forest was alive again, unfrozen from a standstill in time. The ominous sound of rock against rock grew louder and finer, despite the small avalanche Rivet had created having ended minutes ago. Rivet turned his ears.

The sound grew thinner and sharper, almost like a foal playing with marbles on the street. Rivet scanned the tree-line. Out of the corner of his eyes, something flashed between the shadows. Two tiny yellow eyes lit up, and looked straight at the red stallion. A tiny paw emerged from the threshold of light and dark, and shook up and down. Then a rain of little red marbles scattered on the snow. A high yelp, a scuttle, and the eyes disappeared.

Rivet Punch took a few hesitant steps forward, his curiosity beating his nervousness. He eyed the stones strewn in front of him; the little red dots were very conspicuous against the white snow, glinting in the silvery moonlight. Then Rivet noticed a trail of them, leading forward and disappearing between the shadows of the pines. Although the forest swallowed all of the moonlight, the red stones still shimmered, and Rivet Punch could see them trailing off far away; as far as he could see.

I guess somepony must like me, he thought. With a lightened heart, Rivet stepped into the forest and started to follow the mysterious trail, all the while pondering about who his mysterious mare-do-well could be.

Comments

[AppleChocolate]

I have so many questions... that I hope will get answered. So I’ll just focus on the one that I’m expecting *not* to be in the story.

They both are Russian-speakers right? Because twice, Silnyy has answered “Ja”, and that’s confusing to me.

[Elkia Deerling]

In my opinion, if the first chapter of a story does not raise questions, it's a bad chapter.

You're right about 'Ja;' I should have used 'Da.' Whoops! When reading this story try to imagine all of the characters speaking English with a fat, Eastern-European/Russian accent. That was what I was going for and I'm glad you figured that out.