• Published 14th Feb 2017
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PaP: Bedtime Stories - Starscribe



Earth used to have humans living on it. Now it has ponies, some of which used to be human. It will take ten thousand years for every human alive on earth to return. A lot can happen in that much time.

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Long Watch

Comox had only one type of accommodation: small, thinly insulated group homes which provided a large sleeping mat for several individuals and not a lot else. Alex did not share hers with any deer— not since Stride had a mate and many fawns of her own. She didn't have the little building to herself— she had two apprentices, who continued to pretend around her that they weren't in a relationship. She, cordially, pretended she didn't notice.

Alicorns needed less sleep than ordinary ponies, which had proven to be quite an advantage. As she shrugged he way out of the little hut, one of many in identical rows not distinguished in any way, she found Comox already alive with activity. It wasn't quite dawn yet, but still she found grins and ribbing gestures waiting for her as she passed to the communal watering area. Deer mimicked rubbing their eyes with one hoof as she passed, or briefly touched noses to sides— she had learned both gestures were typically used to mock a fawn who had overslept.

Ponies had many advantages over these creatures, but the comparison was not as one-sided as she had originally thought. Deer, as it turned out, slept only a few hours a day, spread into thirty-minute naps during the darkest and brightest parts of any twenty-four hour cycle. Without using spells, an Alicorn could live on four. Her apprentices, by contrast, had utterly failed to adapt to this strange way of living, and were thus absent from large parts of deer society. Pony (or human, for that matter) brains just weren't designed to work that way.

In the court of the Yileron , she'd been treated with silent reverence and barely contained awe. Even a magically weak pony could sense the power of an Alicorn, and something in the way ponies were wired seemed to prompt at least respect, even from her enemies.

Compared to the most magically dull pony, the greatest magical talent she'd ever seen among the deer might as well be a plant for the gift they had. They couldn't feel her power, nor did they much care.

It had taken enormous effort to be recognized as a member of their community, even as they strove to build something new. Nancy had managed it, but Dividend they continued to see as a foreigner, friendly for his gifts but ultimately not a member of the tribe.

Almost everything in Comox was communal, including the stream that powered the water wheel and led to a deep pond they used for drinking. A stone dam surrounded this artificial pond, and a new species of lily Archive had created purified the water within.

Deer made their way to this pool every morning to drink, though the sun wasn't even up. Archive shivered a little against the cold, though it was still the middle of summer. If any deer had seen that, they would probably be snickering at that too.

Alex selected a cup from a stack of many in a woven basket by the side of the pond, levitating it out in front of her and dipping it into the water. Deer almost never bothered— but she was still trying to teach them, even now that her time in Comox was almost over.

"All-Crafted," said a voice from behind her. It belonged to a buck, a buck whose coat was going grey and hooves were splitting with age. His full name was Finds-Softest-Flowers-At-Dusk. Even with her memory, she preferred to think of him as just "Dusk."

She finished drinking before she turned. There were not many deer here— most were already finished with morning meal. There would be enough left for her— there always was. "Morning to you, Dusk," she bowed her head in greeting, as was proper when addressing a male.

Yet another glimpse of the culture that made her uncomfortable— even though a doe could hold all the same positions (except soldiers), she was required to show physical deference to a male, even of greatly inferior rank. A tribal matron with the authority to command all her fighting deer would still be required to bow to each one if she passed them on the street.

Dusk returned the bow, his ears briefly flattening and antlers dropping nearly to her head level. "Hardly morning anymore, All-Crafted. An hour ago, perhaps. Only fawns are still waking."

Young Alicorn though she might be, even the elderly towered over her. A strong buck like Dusk was two and a half feet taller than she was, and had probably been even taller before the years wore him down.

"Yes, I know," his words were confirmed all around her. The fawns— deer her own size, though only a few years old in most cases— came for their morning water, or made their way to morning meal. They slept about as much as she did, at her best. "What did I miss while I slept? Stride's condition has not worsened, has it?"

Despite her apparent deference, Alex didn't wait for the male to indicate the direction they were to go, as was proper during a conversation like this. She was going to breakfast dammit, and she wouldn't let anyone's genitals stop her.

"No no, nothing like that. The 'magic' you worked has kept its promises in every respect. Truly, my grandchildren will cherish them all as holy relics."

"As practical tools," she corrected, making her way to the food line. Well… calling it a line might not be quite right. As in all things they did, the deer ate communally. Those good at cooking things (when they ate cooked food at all) cooked until they felt the village had enough to eat at any given time, then they stopped. Deer arrived and waited their turn for a portion according to intricate and complex unspoken rules. It was fortunate that those not traditionally part of the social hierarchy were given top selection with those rules, because even after years of living with them and her perfect memory she'd not managed to unravel them.

Fawns scattered out of her way, and she scraped up a bowl of fresh fruit and greens. Nothing cooked, as that was reserved for the evening meal.

Alex chose an empty table far away from everyone else. As she did, every deer still eating rose and moved, rearranging themselves. The lone bucks moved furthest away from her, doe with children moved closest, and fawns eating alone separated both groups.

"Why do they do that?" she muttered to herself, for perhaps the thousandth time.

Dusk sat down across from her. He had taken a bowl for himself, but put only a single leaf inside it. Deer wouldn't take space at a table if they weren't eating, and they left as soon as they were done. "It's proper," Dusk explained. "We show respect to the one who gave us so much."

"If someone would explain where I fit, I'd just sit there and nobody would have to move." She grunted, levitating a few berries out of the bowl and chewing on them. A few fawns stared openly at her, though most deer looked away, as though embarrassed for her. Archive had made it a point to use as much magic around these deer as she could, hoping it might awaken some nascent talent in them.

It had not.

"You fit wherever you choose to sit, All-Crafted. The same is true for the rest of us. Choosing this table means a few were wrong, so they adjusted."

She waved one hoof, as though pushing his words away. Utter nonsense. She'd been convinced for the first month that the deer only did it to mock her. Now, she'd seen far too much respect to dismiss the behavior that way. "Was it news you came to bring, Dusk?" she asked. "Or just conversation."

"Prediction," he breathed, lowering his voice. "Even your wonders can't keep Swift with us much longer. She no longer sleeps, you know. I do all I can to ease her pain, but… I don't think she'll last the day. She drifts, barely lucid. The Mother calls to her."

Archive nodded sadly, eyes on her meal. Her annoyance with a few of the mysteries her time among the deer hadn't managed to solve faded at this more pressing dread. These deer lived so fantastically short that she would be forced to give up a friend far sooner than she'd thought she would have to. While her daughter and apprentice were still teenagers, they had watched Swift wither away before them. Now, they would have to watch her die.

Alex chose her words carefully. Even Dusk, an "educated" tribal elder and a great liberal among Comox, could have trouble with some of what she suggested. "Would you think it was wrong if I helped Stride get better?"

Dusk stared openly at her for several long moments. "I don't know why anyone would be against that, All-Crafted. When you taught us what was causing sickness, every deer learned to be careful what we drank and where we dug latrines. You taught us how to plant, and so now we have many farmers and few foragers. If you have some new way to heal, why would we turn it away? The Mother smiles on every helpful tool."

"Do you know why magebloods live so long?"

"Magic," he answered. "I used to think you had magic instead of blood, but thanks to the clumsy fawn, we know that isn't true." He meant Dividend of course, who was poorly adapted to life in the wilderness and frequently suffered small injuries. "Have you solved the mystery at last? Will you be sharing the masterwork with us?"

"I… haven't," she admitted, staring down at her hooves. "It won't be ready in time, Dusk. With the speed I'm progressing… I suspect it will not be discovered in time to give to any deer now living."

Dusk sighed. "Then your first question is irrelevant. Without the herb, there can be no treatment."

"There is…" she lowered her voice even further, as quiet as she could speak. Another pony might very well not be able to hear her at all, unless they were a bat. But Deer had very keen senses— even sharper than a pony's. "There is another way. A treatment I only discovered recently. But it is an extremely costly procedure. Think of it like…" she couldn't use the example of amputation. These deer still thought it was better for a deer injured beyond the ability to run to die, rather than consume resources. If it were winter, Stride would have already wandered out into the cold to die. "It's just hard. Age is not communicative— an old deer would be a young pony. If her current body is doomed and we can't make a deer that lives longer, maybe… maybe we can save her by making her something else."

Dusk didn't say anything at first. Abruptly, neither did anyone else around them. Alex folded and unfolded her wings nervously, worried that maybe she'd stumbled into yet-another unspoken taboo.

He did speak eventually. "We already rejected that solution, All-Crafted. Near the beginning. You said that the magic required to permanently change a living creature was too difficult."

She nodded in agreement. "All things have a pattern. Living things are always changing, their patterns shifting and growing as they live. Lesser spells, no matter how robust, would eventually be wiped away."

"Like when you came to us," Dusk said. "Your magic made you look like kin, smell like kin. But you weren't kin underneath. You became yourselves again eventually. If you changed Stride, or any kin for that matter, the magic would go away. They'd have gotten older, and might die right away. Whatever we build here cannot require magebloods to maintain— unless you're suggesting that as we change some, their own magic can be used to change others." He shook his head. "No. We will want to remain ourselves."

Archive's horn glowed, and she teleported something from the workshop across the town onto the table in front of her. Having a perfect memory made such magic almost trivial for her— when she knew the exact position of an object, teleporting it was not a difficult task.

What she'd brought was a necklace, not unlike those many deer wore as their only form of clothing. It used beads made from semi-precious minerals roughly sanded into rounded shapes, and had a metal clasp at the back. She held it up, showing the intricate beads to Dusk. Every one of them was covered in runes, which glowed faintly even now.

"A living creature's pattern always changes, but if the spell isn't cast on a living creature, then it can't get erased. Any deer who wears this…"

Dusk snatched it away from her, turning it over in his hooves. Deer didn't have near the dexterity ponies did, at least not naturally. That was partially why their society was so communal— it was much easier to accomplish basic tasks with two deer than it was with two hooves.

"If this works…" he trailed off, lowering his head to eat the leaf in front of him. He rose then, taking bowl and necklace both. For once, Archive followed his lead.

The sky fractured into mixed shafts of orange, gold, and canary as dawn began in the east. It illuminated Comox, a village looking not unlike a frontier fort from the 1700s. A high wall made from sturdy sharpened tree-trunks surrounded the entire thing, the whole thing made of secure woodwork. There were no mounted guns, but deer serving as today's guards had crossbows with them. No uniforms, no clothes besides jewelry and accessories anywhere.

There were no work schedules, no formalized jobs, yet not a single deer idled. Even in the most dedicated ponies Alex had never seen individuals as hardworking as the deer. They were always busy, always seemed to know exactly where they should be and what they needed to do there.

"You won't be making more of these, I guess." Dusk said, cutting straight across Comox to the medical building.

Even with her longer Alicorn legs, it was a struggle for Alex to keep up. So far as Alicorns went, she guessed she was about the size of the Equestrian Twilight Sparkle. It was hard to remember for certain, since that had been before her perfect memory.

"No," she admitted. "The magic it required from me was significant. The spell would require a hundred unicorns to recreate. It would not be possible to make enough for an entire tribe."

"We wouldn't want them," he said again. "We are kin. If we were something else, we would not be ourselves. I know the other Elders will think likewise. This does not mean I think your tool should be thrown out, however."

The medical building was a log cabin, like all their more permanent structures meant to offer some protection. "No Kin knows as you know All-crafted. But Stride is close. To lose both at once, when we have only the writing you left us… this would be a terrible thing to endure. Comox might not survive it."

They passed through the door, into a low space lit by small windows. Glass was terribly difficult for the deer to make, but in a medical building like this the ability to keep out the cold and also exchange air with the outside when they wanted was simply too important to rely on fire and roof ventilation exclusively.

There was only one occupant in the many low beds— built after the pony style, not patches of living turf as the deer preferred. "Stride saw what we have only heard in stories," he whispered. "If she put this on, she would live… how long?"

"Another two hundred winters," she answered. "At least. Possibly as many as fifty more, it's hard to say. But as you said… take the necklace off once, and time catches up. She would die immediately."

In front of them was an old deer, her coat almost completely grey. Her legs twitched, her body locked into a partial rigor. The smells around her bespoke other parts of her body failing. Had Stride not been the effective founder of this new tribe, had it not been summer and a time of plenty, she would have been dead long ago.

Alex was still working on teaching the importance of caring for the old and sickly who wouldn't recover. Even Dusk had trouble with that one.

"You are certain the spell is safe?" Dusk asked, offering the necklace back."

Alex took it in her brownish magic, levitating it beside her. "The spell will fail before it would hurt the one wearing it."

"She might never be lucid again," Dusk stopped beside the low bed, gently nudging Stride.

The deer looked up, though her eyes went straight to Alex across the room. "I knew it would be you," she said, her voice remarkably clear. "Mother's champion. The endless trees are calling— they're so close. All around us." Despite Dusk's predictions, her words came with only a slight slur. Her eyes wandered, yet they seemed to focus on Alex clearly.

Alicorns were liminal beings— this wasn't the first time Alex had seen this. The sick and dying always recognized her role more clearly than the healthy. Maybe the felt he supernal through her, even if her mane no longer flickered.

Alex gestured with one hoof. "Give us a moment, Hebalist Dusk."

He stared, his mouth opening and closing. "She hasn't been this clear in weeks! Maybe we don't—"

"Out," she gestured again, and her tone would permit no argument.

The stag grunted and pawed at the ground, nostrils flaring. Then he turned and stalked off.

Alex turned her eyes on Stride. To her magical senses, the deer wasn't weeks away from death— she was minutes. Something was pulling on her, the irresistible pressure of a distant… mystery. The iridescent veil obscured her eyes as much as anyone's. Maybe there really was an endless forest on the other side. Maybe there was oblivion.

"Are you ready to go?" She asked, ignoring the sudden warmth of her face as she walked to the side of the bed, looking down into Stride's eyes.

"I think so," Stride said. She spoke so slowly, each word coming with its own breathy struggle. "I once knew only hardship. When I go, I can take hope with me that the kin who come after will live better." She reached out with one hoof. "You can take me now."

"Not quite," Alex spoke soothing, pushing the feeble hoof gently back. "What if I had a labor for you. Would you do it for me?"

Stride's lips parted in a smile, though the sound came out more like a leaking cask. "Too late for that."

"Not quite." Archive levitated the necklace. "What if I asked you to live a little longer, for you kin? To stay behind and teach them, for another hundred winters. Another two hundred, maybe. Until they don't need you anymore."

Stride's eyes widened. "You can do this?"

Archive nodded. "I can." She reached up, touching the faint streak of white in her mane. "No one understands death as I do. You won't live forever… but it might seem that way. If you take it, you will watch your children die. You'll watch your friends waste away, over and over again."

Stride didn't say anything, not for a long time. Then she nodded. "You take away my rest, All-Crafted."

"Only postpone it," Alex responded, lifting the necklace high over Stride's neck.

"Dusk, come back! One of the Kin needs to witness this."

The buck couldn't come running— he was only a year or two away from being bedridden himself. He came swiftly enough, still smelling angry. "You changed your mind?"

"No. But my conversations with the dead are sacred. Stride deserved her privacy." She secured the clasp with a brief flash of magic, melting the metal together like solder. Then she stepped back.

"Stride isn't dead."

"Not anymore."

"I don't feel anything," Stride said. The rasp in her voice was gone. "Wait, no. What's…" a shiver passed through her, along with a deep, relaxed sigh.

The transformation took only a few seconds. She shrunk rapidly, the small bed growing until she was only as large as the largest fawns. Pony sized. Her coat went from grey back to healthy brown, with spots along her back and slighter warmer colors on her belly. Her legs thickened, her eyes and head got bigger. No cutie mark appeared on her flank— Archive's spell had not changed her soul.

It seemed fitting that Stride wouldn't grow a horn or wings. The necklace could make any kind of pony, finding the closest match just as the preservation spell did. She got a little thicker, more muscular, and a mane and tail of bright cream grew to complete the transformation. The necklace itself shrunk with her, fitting perfectly on her smaller pony frame. There it would remain, until Stride died.

"Under the Mother's belly," Dusk muttered, mouth hanging open in shock. He reached forward, touching the edge of one of Stride's legs with his own.

Stride's eyes jerked open, and she inhaled sharply. There was no fluid sound in her lungs, no raspiness. Her deep green eyes had no trace of confusion in them, and they focused immediately on Archive. She sat up, not looking away.

The touch of death on her spirit was gone. The 'eternal forest' would receive one fewer victim today. "I feel so… young. Did you make me a fawn again?" Her voice was musical— like any young pony's, always one step away from a song. Not the harsh, clipped way of the deer.

"Not quite." Archive reached out, helping her to her hooves. "Would you mind bringing the mirror, Dusk?"

The stag strode away without a word.

"What then?" Stride looked down at herself, and confusion spread slowly there. "Is this the masterwork? You told me you wouldn't be able to find it…"

"No. If I'd discovered the spell that could stretch your lives, I would've already given it to the whole tribe." Archive pointed at the necklace. "Anyone who wears that necklace will be changed."

Dusk arrived about then, dragging the polished metal "mirror" in his mouth. Alex took it from him in her magic, turning it on Stride.

The new earth pony stared up at herself for nearly five full minutes. She twisted and moved, sitting up more properly in bed. She touched her face with her hooves, stretched her legs, even lifted her tail. With each new detail she seemed more embarrassed.

Finally she dropped onto the bed, covering her face with one leg. "The Mother herself has never seen a shame like mine."

"You're an earth pony," Archive said. "You'll be able to use the mother's power directly now. Get to know her as no kin ever did. More importantly, I'll never be as good at this as you are. Making myself one of you didn't help me understand… making you like me give you centuries to help Kin understand."

Stride sighed. "I will need a new name." She pawed at the ground, in the nervous way deer often did. "My mother's name for me is wrong."

"That's stupid," Archive sat down on her haunches. "The changes are external. I've done nothing to your mind, your spirit… you're still a deer."

She laughed, shaking her head vigorously. "You created me, All-Crafted. Now you have to name me. That's the proper way."

"It is," Dusk agreed. "Strangest fawn-naming I've ever seen, but still needed. Names must be true."

Archive rolled her eyes, but didn't object. Deer often got this way, insisting that there was some specific requirement for something. Once they made a decision, they would never change it. "I name you… Long Watch." There was more to the ritual. Alex had only ever seen a handful of namings, but of course it only took one for her to remember. The one who gave a name also gave a blessing, supposedly chosen by the Mother. A fawn's mother could speak for the great mother of all, it was thought.

"I give you the wisdom to teach what you never thought you knew. I give you the creativity to dream in ways you never imagined. I give you the duty to watch over the Kin in the Mother's place. Now your watch begins— may it not end until your death."

"The Mother hears and witnesses your blessing," Dusk said, his head bowed reverently. "Welcome, sister Long Watch."

* * *

They left three days later, just in time to meet Alex’s deadline.

Hundreds of Comox’s deer were there to say goodbye, arrayed in their finest and watching from behind the walls. Alex exchanged ceremonial farewells with many of them, which she managed to do without mispronouncing anything important or offending anyone. Somehow.

She walked towards Comox’s open gate, where the greatest deer of the tribe were assembled to bid her farewell. Four elders, two of each sex, though one of the doe was now an Earth Pony and stood far shorter than the others.

Alex stopped three paces away from the elders, bowing only slightly to them. Her apprentices bows much deeper, one on either side. She was wearing her familiar saddlebags, while each of them wore mundane equivalents.

“All crafted one,” said Knows-Moss-From-Season, the tallest and strongest of the bucks. “You and yours will be sorely missed in this place.” He gestured, and one of the mares, Weaves-Perfect-Canopy, brought forward a basket. The interior glittered with jewlery, so full it seemed to drag on the ground. “May you return to your families in safety.”

Archive levitated something out of the bag she was wearing, a dark rock marked only with her cutie mark. She set it down in front of the mare to take instead of the basket, while she lifted the basket into her saddlebags to take its place. “You have treated me always with great kindness. I leave this kindness in return: if the tribe is ever in danger, break this stone and I will return.”

“By the Mother’s will, we will not need to,” Dusk said, smiling at her. “Our way of living will spread. There will be many villages like ours, and we can join together with you and your friendly Magebloods in prosperity and mutual protection.”

“No matter how long that takes, I will be waiting. Whether it be one winter, or a thousand. The All-Crafted leaves you this promise.”

More bowing and scraping. Nancy stepped forward next, wearing one of Alex’s old “adventuring” outfits, consisting of an open skirt with a tank-top and boots. She was about Alex’s own age now, at least so far as appearances were concerned. Lean, mature, and beautiful, with a mane and tail cut short to imitate the deer. She pushed forward a small basket, one she’d woven herself, filled with little lumps of golden metal.

“I return the Kin’s kindness,” she said, her Dutch only slightly accented. “The place of my fawning will be precious to me forever.”

This time Swift stepped forward to take the offering, and traded it for a faux-leather satchel, filled with primitive tools. The sort a deer might use to make camp while traveling through hostile territory, made at the metalworking shop in Comox. “Honor her ways and the Mother will protect you,” Long Watch promised, before taking the container. “And keep an eye on the outsider for us.”

All eyes flicked briefly to Dividend, and the deer shared a collective laugh. As the pony was not kin, there was no ritual expected of him, no exchange of gifts with the tribe.

The redish unicorn, for his part, echoed the laugh in an awkard, halfhearted way, with only seemed to amuse the deer further. One of the bucks reached forward and slapped him on the shoulder, a little too hard for pony comfort. He winced, though obviously tried to hide the pain. “Bye forever,” he said, each word a struggle. More laughter was the only response.

Long Watch walked with them out of the gate, even as the other deer returned to their duties. Even in the body of a pony, she seemed to move a little strange. Bounding instead of walking, loping from step to step. Her body wasn’t built for it, and the struggle in each step was apparent. She wouldn’t be able to keep pretending she was still a deer forever.

“Will you travel back through the void?” she asked, once they’d cleared the gates. They passed through sparse fields, which mixed freely with the native trees. Deer did not clear away forests for their fields, unless they actually needed the wood. One of the many customs she’d failed to help them shake. “I do not like the thought of a doe and two fawns traveling alone with winter coming.”

“No,” Archive answered, grinning slyly at her. “We’re flying. Much slower than a teleport, but the other advantages were too good to pass up.”

“Uh…” Dividend looked up, his horn glowing faintly. As if to remind them both that he was, in fact, still a unicorn. “I’ll have a hard time flying, master Alex.” His English was far better than his dutch, though he still had an accent.

The unicorn was at least a year younger than Nancy, though a combination of his sex and species meant he was about the same height. A little more sturdily built, thanks to the hard labor he’d done in the fields. Noble Calling would not be expecting the son Archive would return to her.

“We won’t be using wings,” Alex said. They were approaching a very large clearing, one they’d been using for winter wheat but was now empty, freshly ploughed. There were already no trees growing here, so the Deer didn’t mind growing a monoculture. At least they don’t expect other cultures to follow their strange, strict rules.

“Oooh!” Nancy bounced up and down, wings opening an closing with her excitement. “You finally convinced them to come? After all this time?”

“Isaac wanted to get a good look at our progress.” Alex responded.

She turned away from the younger ponies, facing the older one. Long Watch had turned, looking back towards Comox in the distance.

“I’ll never forgive you for this,” she said.

Alex ignored her complaint, embracing her with all the love and affection she could. Despite her angry words, the pony didn’t resist, and clung just as tightly in return. “You don’t have to,” Alex whispered. “Just do good here. You have the communication stone, right?”

Watch nodded, holding up one hoof. She now wore a bracelet there, with a single green stone glowing there.

“Anytime you need advice, you ask. I can’t promise I’ll give you all the answers. Sometimes I might just give you hints, let your own figure it out. You’ve got some smart deer here.”

She broke apart. The mare didn’t move away, though. She looked down, blushing. “Even if I am… a deer inside, as you suggested… they will see me as an outsider. The next generation may not accept what I have to say.”

Archive shrugged. “Make friends, get them to help you. Worked pretty well for me. Besides… you’re a pony now. You’ve got more magic in your body than the whole tribe. Don’t be afraid to get rough to keep Comox safe. Just keep your hooves on the ground— if you can’t feel the Earth, you can’t use her strength.”

“I know,” Watch rolled her eyes. “How many times did I watch you teach your new Mageblood in Estel.” She looked down at her hooves, trailing off. “I listened to as many as I could. I used to hope… hope that some of what you taught would work for me. It never did.”

“Well, now it will. The Earth Pony stuff, anyway. Just try not to show off too much for the tribe, okay? And…” she lowered her voice to a reverent whisper. “You’ll still get old. When that happens, make sure you make it very clear who your necklace will pass to. I’d suggest personally training as many deer as you can. When you find the one who will replace you, you’ll know.”

“Will you come for me again?” Watch whispered back, just as quietly. “Let me rest for good, next time? Join my ancestors in the forest eternal?”

“I…” Archive hesitated. “That will depend. I don’t get to do that for just anypony.” She poked her in the chest with one hoof. “You said you wanted to see your kin become great. You wanted to give them the gifts I brought to the refugees in Estel. Well, now you get the chance. We got things started, but now you have to finish them. Do that, and you may rest.”

Alex narrowed her eyes, though her tone was playful. “Fail, and I might have to keep you here another two hundred winters.”

Watch laughed. “You were always a strange pony, All-Crafted. Though… what about the Masterwork? Have you given up?”

“No,” Archive took a deep breath. “I think I’ve gone as far as I can. Other kinds of solutions, maybe you or some other deer will come up with. Like that necklace you’re wearing. Someday, it would be possible to get more of these from ponies. I have left copies of the spell preserved in the library. Or maybe some other, exterior solution. There are many possibilities. All move from the outside in, and all would force you to sacrifice your identity in some way.”

“We will not accept it,” Watch said emphatically. “Tools make our lives better. It is good for us to forage less. It is good to learn to mine, to dig metal, and to fend off predators. It is not good to change ourselves. The Masterwork is what we want.”

“I have suspicions…” Archive began. “That the Masterwork won’t be a spell at all. I’ve told you about the Supernal. I think… I think the only way to change the character of your whole species, without giving up your identity… I believe the change must happen there. Someone will have to go up there and make the change. A deer, I think.”

Watch looked as though Archive had told her about the death of a relative. Her ears dropped, tail started to drag. “So it’s impossible,” she moaned. “You said only Alicorns can do that. No deer has that kind of magic.”

In answer, Alex touched her own throat with one hoof, where Long Watch’s new necklace hung. “One deer does. Choose your replacement carefully— they might be the one to do it. If you don’t.”

Watch huffed in annoyance. “Why don’t you ask me to move the sun while you’re at it? While you ask impossible things, might as well ask for a way to bring more warmth to the winters.”

“Please don’t move the sun,” Archive did not sound amused anymore. “We need it right where it is. Stick to helping the kin. I’ll be expecting regular updates.”

“You will have them.” Long Watch turned away, and started back to the village. “Fly safely.”