Child of the Fog

by Renaissance Muffins

Morning 1

The day is young, bright, and beautiful. The clouds were sparse and Cloudsdale was biggest one in the sky despite its distance. A rooster crowed a signature call from the apple farm, rousing some ponies from their sleep. Other birds began to sing various tones and notes from the trees, greeting and meeting. Flocking about as a crowd to pick at seeds and berries.

Soon, a wafting smell of cake and cookies began to emanate from the local bakery. Its lovely scent drifted throughout Ponyville, a place that had seen its fair share of hardships and friendships throughout its long history. With that smell, rose a pony excited to meet the day with a grand smile and a number of different things to do. Planning parties, baking confectioneries, or babysitting the twins that Mrs Cake had had some time ago. Today, however, she would begin her morning with a walk through an empty field. Perhaps to enjoy the rays of sunlight that shined ever so brightly.

When she left the house, fog had covered the field she wanted to frequent. She wondered if she woke up early or if it had rained during the night. Even so, she went on with a canter to the field and at the edge of the fog she sat before wandering into it and prancing about before stopping and watching a butterfly flutter about and land on the head of a dandelion. She stared and admired its beauty, the way the patterns waved about like water on its wings. The large spots on the underside that took the shape of an eye staring back at her. It seemed like it could blink at any moment, until it appeared that it actually did. Pinkie thought it strange at first and thought it was weird. Then her mind wandered away and she began to think about visiting Twilight, so she ventured out of the fog rather merrily.

At one edge of Ponyville, sat a castle made of crystals that shone in a multitude of purple hues. Tall, grand doors stood atop of a short flight of stairs and behind them, a grand foyer that centralized all of the rooms and hallways. One such hallway, lead to a very specific room of a very important pony. Perhaps the most important one of all in Ponyville: Twilight Sparkle. She had gone through many trails in her life that could've meant the end of many things had they turned out the wrong way.

The purple pony arose from her slumber with a yawn and a stretch that took the cramp out from one limb. She thought aloud and in whispered voice, “Maybe I overslept a bit.” She continued on, hoping out of bed and going downstairs to the castle's kitchen a fixing up a breakfast. After preparing and plating her meal, she carried it into the library to fetch a book while she ate. What she would read today was an uncertainty, but the itch of a fairy tale gained way. In a moment, she pointed with her horn, plucked a thick book from a shelf and turned to its index. Fumbling through the list, she found one she couldn't recall seeing before. She was certain that she had read through the book once before. Perhaps she had missed it.

She whispered the name of the story in a hushed breath before taking a bite of her breakfast. Flipping to the page, she began to read the title before hearing the door to the library open up. Twilight looked up from the book's inked pages and saw one the pink figure of one her closest friends. Her pink, fluffy mane and tail, cheery smile, and blue eyes. It was a wonder how she was so much different than her family members who were much more... restrained in their personalities. However, restrained might not be the best choice of words as one of them had quite the temper.

Pinkie waved a cheerful hello and sat in a chair across from Twilight, then began to tell her about her little venture into the foggy field and the butterfly that she had come across. Twilight told Pinkie that she may have been imagining things. It's early and it can always take some time before the mind is properly awake. Pinkie agreed with her, letting out a short giggle before announcing her hunger and fleeing to the kitchen. Twilight looked back to her book and began to read the title once more: “Children of the Fog.” She hadn't heard of this one before and thus began reading the first of its words.

According to the legend, the Fog Children were responsible for the morning dew upon the grass, awakening the morning glories, and waking the birds to sing their early morning songs. They came and went with the fog. One day, a lowly farmer wandered into the fog and there he saw a dozen ghostly figures taking on the appearance of young ponies. He rubbed his eyes and they vanished.

The next morning, the farmer went through the field again. The fog was there once again, but this time, the children followed closely behind him. Their glowing white eyes made the farmer scared of them, but he braved the stares of the ghosts. When he got to the other side of the fog, the children stopped following him.

On the third morning, the farmer walked through the fog yet again. This time he was unafraid, knowing the children of the fog meant no harm to him. At the end of the fog, he turned and saw how many there were in the fog. A hundred, perhaps more. It was hard to tell. This farmer had a talent other than his farm, however. He enjoyed gardening and had been tending to a patch of flowers that he thought would wilt away by the end of the week. He felt helpless.

The fourth morning, the farmer remained at home to tend to the flowers that he had planted outside of his front windows. Turning away from the potted flowers, he caught a glimpse of one of the children on the roof of his house. They appeared to be swept away by the light breeze that had come that morning. He looked to the field that he crossed the previous three days and saw many a faint glow in the fog. They seemed to be busy with something. It was too hard to tell, and perhaps not even possible to ask. When the farmer went home and settled for the night, closing all of his windows and shuttering them from the moonlight.

Unbeknownst to him, the fog followed him home like a cat sneaking up on its prey. Around his house, the fog settled. Around his house, the children began to toil away at the land. Breathing new life into all that grew around it. The flowers would bloom brightly, the trees would become stronger, and the grass was set to never die in the day's hot sun. Soon, the fog crept away in the same way it had arrived.

Upon awaking to the fifth morning, the farmer woke, at his breakfast and prepared himself for another day of hard work. A daily regimen of planting, harvesting, pruning, and weeding out his land. When he arrived at his farm, he saw everything was in full bloom. Crops that he had planted the day before had sprung into life, bearing fruits and vegetables alike. The garden he was working on so hard grew mighty and all the flowers surged with vivid color. The farmer sat down and wept. Not out of sadness, grief, or anger; but out of happiness and joy.

He looked to the fog that lingered in the field and wandered over to it. Standing at its edge, he whispered a thank you. Dozens of eye lit up in the fog and despite the figures being relatively faceless, he felt that they were smiling back at him. Then, one by one, the eyes closed and the fog slowly began to lift from the ground and drift into the sky. The old farmer wished only that he could give something in return, but perhaps he already has.

Where the center of the fog was, there sat a single potted flower. Gold in color, stem and leaves like a tiger lily. Gilded Lily, a flower said to renew entire gardens and bring good luck. For the rest of the farmer's life, everything he planted and grew and tended to, bloomed into great health and brought joy into his world. Even after he had passed away, the Gilded Lily sat in the back garden of his home and was in full bloom year round. Even when snow or heavy rain would weigh it down. The land would be passed on to multiple generations of his family who would continue to do what he did his whole life.

They say the farm and the fog still exist today, where they could be is quite unknown. Same say to look for the ghost of the farmer said to be leading the fog to its next destination. Others say to watch for fog that seems impenetrable, or moves oddly around fields and hills that have rivers coursing through them. A lake would even suffice.

It was there that the legend ended. Twilight had finished eating her breakfast by the end of it. Pinkie had done the same, but she ate it all in almost one fell swoop. Much quicker than some one who took their time. Pinkie asked what Twilight was reading, Twilight answered dutifully. Saying exactly what the book said on its cover. Pinkie asked which tale; Twilight in a way, repeated her answer, but with the legend she'd just finished.

Pinkie then went on to comment about venturing into fog earlier that morning. She described the butterfly that she saw and the actions that it made. As well as the actions that she made watching the insect. After that, her tone of voice turned into questioning, stating that she felt as if she was being watched after leaving the fog. When she turned to look back, she saw nothing there. She shrugged off the feeling and hopping her way down to the castle up to the point where she greeted Twilight. They both took a look to that field, but the fog had long since vanished.