Agate's Vigil

by Wingnut

Stories of Winter

❅ ❆ ❅

Agate shifted in her sleep, her consciousness returning in a slow trickle. Stretching lazily, she thought about the events of the night before.

She spent some time telling the northern explorer's spirit about the Empire, herself, and the usual things she'd tell the curious snowponies. For his part, he was a very eager and attentive listener. She half expected him to want to stay around and keep exploring, but he just shook his head, smiling.

"No, I don't think so. My adventures on this Earth are over. Thank you for this last piece of knowledge, though. I truly appreciate it."

It was only after he was gone that Agate realized that she didn't even ask him his name. She thought about asking the other ponies, but in the end, decided against it. Idly watching the skies, she traced his path through the heavens as he disappeared beyond the moon.

"Having second thoughts about joining him?" True Sight asked, stretching her creaky joints.

"Ehh... Not really. Mostly, I'm just wondering how that works. I tried flying once, right after I died. Nothing happened," The filly replied with a shrug.

"Heh. Technically, they're not flying, not the way a windigo does. They just gallop through the sky, once they shed the last things weighing them down."

Agate rubbed her chin, thinking about the reply. "I didn't think spirits weigh anything... I don't disturb even the tiniest snowflakes when I trot around."

"It's a metaphor, youngling. You are correct, a pony's spirit is weightless and immaterial. And yet, if one jumps from any height, they fall down, just like everything else. Why do you think it happens? There are rules in which the world works, an order to things. Spirits tend to linger because they still cling to some part of their life, their past, which binds them to some of the rules of the living, too. But when they fully accept their nature, they realize that the rules that bound them to the Earth no longer apply," The shamare explained, in the usual "wise grandmare" tone of voice.

"I see... Thank you, elder."

With a nod, True Sight turned around and cantered away, the others dispersing as well. They stayed around while Agate was telling the stallion her story, but now, the ritual and the whole event was finished. The ceremonial grounds slowly emptied of ponies, with only Agate's ghostly form remaining by the firepit. She remained behind for a short while longer, staring at the dancing flames in the firepit, still shimmering faintly from whatever magic the shamares performed on it. The fire was finally allowed to go out, and once there was nothing left but glowing coals, Agate got up and left for her totem.

❅ ❆ ❅

Stretching lazily, Agate hopped out of her totem, lying down on the ground and gazing at the stars. Now that she was fully awake, she dug through her memories, sorting out the things she was going to do and the ponies she agreed to meet with later. Something niggled at the back of her mind, though, making her feel like she forgot something.

"Did I dream last night?"

Usually, even if she didn't remember what she dreamt about, she'd still recall tiny glimpses of it. Now, though, she couldn't even remember whether she dreamt anything at all, yet she couldn't shake the feeling of having forgotten something. After a few minutes of fruitless attempts at remembering whatever it was that she forgot, the filly huffed, giving up.

"Maybe I should visit Dreamcatcher..."

Between all the other things she did, Agate still kept up with her dreamwalking lessons with the shamare, not that they bore much fruit yet. The focusing exercises did help her with her spirit sight and her crystal magic, but so far, she wasn't able to affect her dreams in any way. Still, she didn't want to quit without giving it her all.

More than a week passed since they last met, given that the shamares were either busy or recuperating after the Calling. They'd pause their lessons when official events like that were happening, resuming them afterwards. Now that the Spirit Night was concluded, Dreamcatcher likely had more free time. Nodding to herself, Agate got off the ground, making her way towards the mare's home.

As she was trotting at a leisurely pace, she kept going through all the things she did and learned during the time she spent with the snowpony tribe. Agate made her way to Snowpitt during late winter, just a few days before spring officially started, which meant that almost a year had passed since that happened. Thinking back, she recalled her adventures, her highs and lows, and various attempts to find out what happened to the Empire.

"Here's to another year, I suppose..."

At the moment, she didn't have anything planned besides her lessons with Dreamcatcher. Other ponies did, though. Long Stride, the northerner's chieftain, and that young stallion, Icicle, were going to go on that expedition to Dream Valley soon. Agate really didn't know what was going to come of it, so she tried to keep her expectations low. Still, it was reassuring to know that the snowpony tribes were as curious about cracking the mystery as she was. One way or another, sooner or later, they would find out what happened to the crystal ponies, she was sure of it.

❅ ❆ ❅

"Hello, Dreamcatcher."

"Ah, greetings, Agate. How are things?"

The filly took a moment to consider the question. "As well as could be expected, I guess. I'm still learning new things almost every day, listening to a lot of stories. I made some new friends. And I'm going to travel with the northerners to their islands come spring, I think. That's going to be interesting."

The mare flicked an ear, turning to look at Agate with her usual closed-eyed gaze. "Unexpected. May I ask the reason?"

"Sure. It happened when their elder shamare overheard me saying that I could see crystals through solid rock..."

Dreamcatcher listened patiently while Agate explained the northerner's predicament and her role in possibly solving it. When the filly was done, she nodded, but didn't offer any comments on Agate's plans. The two made small talk for a bit, before getting to their lesson.

The exercises were the same as always. Relax. Focus. Relax and focus. Do your best to shut out your surroundings and ignore the sensations from your body (that part was the easiest for Agate to achieve, for obvious reasons). Clear your mind of thoughts, let go of your senses, but do not fall asleep. Try to use the tiny spark of awareness to feel out the area around you, without using your eyes or ears.

Just like many times before, the results were varied. Agate could never quite achieve the "trance" state that Dreamcatcher described, nor did she manage to dreamwalk, or even become lucid in any of her dreams. Focusing on her spiritual senses came relatively easy to her, though, even if she didn't understand anything that those senses were telling her.

When she closed her eyes and shut out the world, instead of everything going dark like what happened when she died, she was able to perceive... Something. Some kind of odd pulling or pushing sensations, almost like a wind or a river's flow trying to carry her off somewhere. Faint, barely visible lights were slowly moving somewhere in the distance, their shapes fuzzy and indistinct. The first time she felt those things, she asked Dreamcatcher what they meant, but the elder just shook her head.

"By themselves? Nothing. The world is made up of all kinds of things, some of them not visible to the naked eye. What you feel is merely the slow, constant flow of magic, or the Breath, as some shamares call it. Some of them tried following the little nudges and pulls, thinking that it was guidance from some greater spirits, but nothing came of it. Far as anyone is able to tell, it is little different from the motion of the wind, or the water. Still, there are some stories about the flow getting disturbed, ripples and eddies emanating from the passage of some kind of immense beings. Usually, it is better to turn around and go the other way if you feel something like that, since the only confirmed source of such ripples are the constellation beasts, which are best left alone."

Some time later, Agate sighed quietly, stretching and slowly opening her eyes. Dreamcatcher never told her how long she was supposed to stay in the dreamlike state, simply telling the filly to keep it up for as long as she was able to without getting frustrated or distracted. With her already poor sense of time, that could range anywhere from around an hour to nearly half a day. Looking around, she tried to figure out how long she was under.

Dreamcatcher was still there, meticulously tying a few feathers together on an unfinished dreamcatcher that she was working on. It was impossible to tell the time of day with the darkness outside, but Agate was fairly certain that she didn't spend half the day going at it this time around. Getting up from the floor, she coughed quietly, making her presence known.

"Welcome back, Agate. How did it go? Any differences?" The elder asked, not looking away from her project.

"No, none that I noticed. Maybe I can't really get any better at this than I already am. Or maybe I'm learning, but I'm not noticing the progress. It's really hard to define it."

"Dream magic is that way," Dreamcatcher nodded slowly. "It is like trying to grasp smoke with your hooves, sometimes. Elusive, slippery, frustrating, and never consistent. Still, given all the previous lessons with similar results, I'd wager that you're not going to give up yet."

"No, I'm not," Agate confirmed. "I'll have to skip some lessons when I go to the north, I suppose, but I'll keep practicing."

"The journey may give you more experience than you'd think, actually. Many shamares journey to the other tribes, as I'm sure you heard already. Who knows? Perhaps you'll discover something new about yourself. Time will tell."

"Hmm. Heh..." Agate chuckled, shaking her head.

"Hm? What is so amusing?"

"Oh, nothing, elder, just some silly thoughts. With how you're able to hear echoes of the past and the future in your dreams, well... I just thought it'd be nice if I could peek into the future to find out whether I'll be able to learn it eventually. For which I would already need to be able to do that, making the question pointless."

Dreamcatcher opened her eyes, raising her head a fraction. Mulling on the paradox for a minute, she chuckled as well. "That does sound like a fun solution, but life almost never allows you to take easy shortcuts like that."

"Yeah, I know..."

Concluding the lesson, the pair said their goodbyes. Dreamcatcher continued her work on her namesake, while Agate went for a trot through Snowpitt, debating whether to visit the Flurries today. They were fun to be with, but they really needed to find hobbies other than stalking and scaring ponies.

❅ ❆ ❅

Agate's hunch was right. A couple days later, Long Stride came to visit her, informing Agate that they were fully prepared for their expedition.

"It took very little actual preparation, honestly. We already have great amounts of preserved food that we brought with us for the winter, and our equipment was well maintained for our yearly migration, so we just needed to work out who was going to go with us. A fairly large amount of ponies expressed their interest, but taking two-three hundred bodies on a scouting expedition is a bit excessive, I'd say," The large stallion explained in his rumbling voice.

"So, you're fully prepared, then? Will you leave right now? Or tomorrow?"

"Not yet, and not quite. We will leave tomorrow, most likely, but before we go, I need one last bit of knowledge from you."

Agate tilted her head questioningly. "Okay? Did I forget to describe some part of the mountains? They're pretty hard to get lost in, honestly. Lots of mountain peaks to navigate with."

"No, nothing like that. I just need to know how much time each part of your journey took, so that I can figure out how much longer it will take us, and how much food we need to bring."

"Oh. Okay, um. Give me a moment," Agate replied, tapping her cheek with a hoof. It took her a few minutes to recall the days that she spent on her trip, since time was the one thing she didn't keep meticulous track of during the journey. "Okay, I think I got it. It took me three days on the trip forward, but it will probably take longer than that for you, since I went through a tunnel in the mountain, and you'll have to go around... Also, I galloped through the night once, so... Hmm... Well, it'll take you at least a week, probably..."

"HA! Hahahahah, oh my word, hahaaah," Long Stride burst out laughing at Agate's assessment, much to the filly's surprise.

Agate waited patiently for the stallion's mirth to subside, which took a little while. Finally, he managed to get his breathing under control, holding on to his belly with a hoof. "Sorry, sorry," He gasped out, a little hoarse. "It's just, well... I mean no offense, Agate, but it's rather obvious that, while you learned well from your teachers, you never went outside of your village while you were still alive. Going on an expedition for a living pony is so much different than it is for a tireless spirit."

"I did go outside... Once. But that journey didn't end well," Agate replied with a frown, trying to compare the memories of her flight from the Empire to her time as a spirit. To her embarrassment, she realized the stallion was correct. It took her... What was it, three or four days just to cross the valley and climb the mountain?

"Ah. My apologies if I brought back unpleasant memories," Long Stride apologized with a small bow.

"No, no, it's fine. I was just being silly, and didn't think it through," She waved it off. "So how long do you think it would take you to reach Dream Valley?"

"Well, hmmm... The journey forward will take longer than the journey back, since we'll be burying supplies along the way, and scouting out good spots for shelter, which we won't need to do on the return trip... With all that, I'd say at least twelve days if no blizzards force us to dig in, though I'm almost certain it's going to be fourteen or more."

"Two weeks?! Wow... It makes sense now that I think about it, but still. That's... More than four days for each one that I spent. Five, almost."

Chuckling again, the stallion shook out his mane, sending a bunch of snowflakes flying. "Mhm, yes. There is a lot that we have to do that you don't, even if you do sleep. Set up camp, break camp, watch for slippery spots, secure a whole bunch of supplies, make sure we don't end our day in an overexposed location... And then there's simply the fact that climbing mountains can leave your muscles burning like nothing else. Honestly, I am tempted to examine that underground tunnel beneath the mountain that you mentioned."

Agate's eyes went wide at that remark. "I really wouldn't recommend it. It's already partially collapsed, and it was never meant to be an actual passage, just a mine that ponies dug out to look for metals or crystals. If you try to break through, well... I don't know all that much about mines, but I'm pretty sure that it would be very, very dangerous."

"Aye, I figured it would be like that. Well, tempting as it would be to retrace the path of our ancestors, it's certainly not worth risking our lives over. I suppose we'll just have to go the hard way."

"I'm sure you can manage. The terrain is... Honestly not that bad, and I don't even have that "snowwalking" skill of yours. What got me in the end was the cold, and I'm sure you won't have any problems with that. And there's no dangerous wildlife that I saw, either... At least, not in those barren mountains. The rest of the valley might be a different story."

"Thank you, Agate. I'll keep that in mind. Do you have any last pieces of advice or knowledge that you'd like to share?"

The filly thought for a good minute, eventually shaking her head. "No, I don't think so. That should be everything. Say, if the trip forward alone will take you two weeks, then how long do you think the whole expedition is going to take?"

Long Stride shrugged, making a so-so gesture with a hoof. "At a rough estimate, about two weeks forward and, oh, ten days back or so, and the actual exploration? Depends entirely on what we do, or do not, find. Could take a week, or even a whole month. No telling, really."

Agate nodded, counting out the numbers in her head. They could be gone anywhere from a month to two whole months. While she knew that the time would feel like nothing once it actually passed, for the moment, she felt an impatient need to know what, if anything, they would find in the valley. Tamping down on the irrational emotions, she shook her head. "So, where will you be gathering before you leave? I think I'd like to see you off."

"I assumed as much. As such, I thought we could gather right here, in your clearing - if you don't mind the hubbub, of course. It seems like a fitting place."

"Of course, go ahead! I don't mind at all. I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Indeed. Be well, little one."

Agate nodded, waving goodbye. She watched the chieftain go, sitting down and going through the conversation in her mind. However, she wasn't able to sit still for long, as a need to share the news with someone overtook her. Getting up, she went off to find her friends.

❅ ❆ ❅

The next day, Agate's little clearing was packed with ponies. She counted the heads, trying to ascertain the actual size of the expedition. It was a little hard, since a bunch of other well-wishers came over to send them off and were mingling with the group, but she finished the count at thirty, or perhaps thirty-three.

While she was counting, she'd let her gaze linger on the ponies, taking in the details. She was getting better at telling the three snowpony tribes apart, though it was made much easier this time by the fact that each tribe seemed to have rather distinct equipment and accessories.

The local southerners were wearing various clothes to ward off the cold, ranging from thick scarfs to long, fluffy cloaks sewn from yeti pelts, the white color camouflaging them against the snow. All of them were equipped with spears, most bearing tips made from sharpened bone or sizeable fangs, while a rare few were made from metal. They were the most colorful bunch, their scarves and other things often bearing various patterns painted on in bright colors. As Gnarled Root once explained to Agate, the tundra, while rather barren, did produce a number of beautiful flowers that could be used in making dyes, something the snowponies happily took advantage of.

The westerners, while less colorful, were more... Fanciful, if that was the right word. They too wore hats, scarves and pelts to ward off the cold, though the pelts were not the snow white color of the yetis, but rather a drab brown. However, they seemed to love decorating everything with feathers and beads, hanging them on everything from spear tips to necklaces, some even tying them into their manes, making themselves look like some kind of strange bird ponies. Whenever the wind blew or the pony moved, all of their little knick-knacks would sway, creating an odd, eye-catching rippling effect. Their weapons were the opposite of the southerner's ones, having far more metal than bone ones.

And lastly, the northerners were the strangest of them all. While the other tribe's accoutrements at least made some kind of sense, several of the things the northerners had were simply bizarre. One such thing was a long spear that Long Stride had strapped to his side, which was seemingly made of ice, of all things. Still, while Agate seriously doubted the durability of such a weapon, she knew better than to ask. From the way the stallion was wearing it, it certainly wasn't a toy or a novelty, and a faint glow coming from it suggested that it was not made from normal, brittle every-day ice. Not every northerner had icy weaponry, but a majority of them did, though there was some slight variation. Some were made of ice entirely, while the others had normal wooden shafts, with only the spearhead being made of ice.

For accessories, they had their seashell necklaces, with a rare few also having some kind of shiny, smooth, pure white gems mixed in with the shells as well. Agate examined them curiously, but couldn't place them. It was not a kind of gem or crystal that she ever saw or heard of before, which was a little surprising to the filly. They did have some familiar crystals as well, though, many of them wearing citrine bracelets on their hooves. From the three tribes, the northerners seemed to love jewelry the most, each member having at least three different pieces on them. Curiously, only a few wore animal pelts, most of them wearing thick, fluffy coats.

"I think... I think that's everything accounted for, chieftain. I never led a group this big before, but I think that's everything."

Icicle, the young northerner stallion that came to visit her before, was currently in the middle of it all. As Long Stride promised, he was allowed to be the leader of the expedition, despite the majority, if not all, participants actually being older and more experienced than him. While he was clearly feeling the pressure, he still managed to remain mostly calm, inspecting the sleighs full of preserves and camping equipment with a keen eye.

Grunting, the stallion nodded. "Seems we are ready, then. Time to say our last farewells, and be off. Been a while since I was able to go on a proper adventure, and my hooves are certainly itching to get moving."

The onlookers heard that, and, moments later, a chorus of well-wishes of all kinds resounded throughout the clearing. Some were invoking various spirits of nature or their ancestors to protect the travelers, others addressed the ponies themselves, telling them not to let their guards down despite the supposedly safe nature of the expedition, while a few were patting some of the younger group members on their backs, likely the proud parents of the brave pioneers. Agate didn't have the kinds of fancy traditional sayings or invocations the snowponies seemed to have, so she settled for a nod and a simple "Good luck.".

Icicle returned the nod, his expression serious. "I will do my best to find where your people might have gone, Agate, you have my word."

"Don't beat yourself up too badly if you don't. I've been there already, as you know, and there was nothing left of the city. Just holes in the ground where the building's foundations used to be, without so much as a speck of dust," Agate reassured him.

"We shall see," He spoke simply, nodding towards the rest of his group.

That was the last signal. All but a few ponies hitched themselves up to the large sleighs, some of them needing a team of two to pull it. The ones that didn't were lithe, but spry, likely serving as forward scouts and sentries. They were armed and dressed lighter than the rest, but their ears were up and alert, eyes darting about despite still being in the village. With a nod to Icicle, they hopped away, moving ahead of the main group.

"Still hard to believe there's an expedition in the middle of winter. It's completely opposite of what the ancestral wisdom tells us," A random bystander in the crowd commented.

Long Stride snorted in amusement, taking a step forward to check if the straps on his chest were attached comfortably. "Well, the wisdom is not entirely wrong. Sure, going north in the winter might be madness. But if you actually think about it, winter's actually the best time to explore the south. The snow makes it easier to pull things around on sleighs - I couldn't even begin to imagine dragging this much stuff on my back in summer, through raw mountain rocks and dirt. And since we're going south, the cold shouldn't be too bad. As Icicle said, we shall see, but I don't foresee any problems with the journey, barring unforeseen circumstances."

Satisfied, the large stallion began moving slowly, his sleigh getting pulled after him. The others waited patiently, joining the caravan one by one. Two more mares peeled off from the crowd, trotting along the snaking line of sleighs and ponies. Agate examined them curiously, as they didn't look like the warrior types that made up the rest of the expedition. In fact, they weren't even armed, unless you counted the large amount of odd amulets and pouches hanging from their necks, manes, tails, and all kinds of other places.

The filly didn't recognize the two, but she guessed that they must be shamares, despite their young age. Remembering her previous conversation with True Sight before the Calling, she surmised that the elder must have chosen those two to fulfill Long Stride's request to have a few shamares accompany him. Their expressions weren't too confident, but their steps didn't falter as they trotted along the caravan.

A few of Agate's friends and acquaintances were in the clearing, having heard of the expedition to the former lands of her tribe. Scratching his head, Cindertail watched the trail of sleds slowly moving southwards.

"Why didn't you go with them? I know you went once already, but you'd like to be there if they found something, right? Or maybe you could guide them better?" The colt asked Agate, his voice full of confusion.

"I... I don't think I'd be of any use, to be honest, If not an outright hindrance. I lived in the city my entire life, Cindertail. I have no idea what's on the fringes of the valley, and if I went with them, the places they would go to would be as unfamiliar to me as they would be to them. And yet, I'm sure that they would be asking me about every single thing, expecting me to know stuff just because I'm a crystal pony. At best, I'd make a lucky guess and be right. At worst, I'd mislead them."

"Oh... Huh. I guess you were a lot like us before you had to flee your home," He mused.

"Most crystal ponies were. Even those that went outside the city very rarely went beyond the valley's borders. You crazy snowponies and your wild travels... Heh. Maybe that's exactly what's needed to find new clues. A fresh look."

Autumn Ash gave Agate a sidelong glance, still watching the caravan slowly disappear in the distance. "And what if they don't find anything?"

"I'll figure something out," Agate said quietly, but firmly. "One way or another. As the other spirits have been telling me for a while, I have all the time in the world."

❅ ❆ ❅

After that exchange, the crowd left, leaving the clearing empty. Agate chatted a bit with her friends, but her heart wasn't in it this time. Sensing this, they made plans to meet up some time later, and left the young spirit alone. She stayed still for a short while, but wasn't able to keep it up for long. Restless, she got up and went for a trot through the village.

Huffing in irritation, she did her best to quash the emotions swirling in her chest. While she wasn't lying when she told Cindertail why she didn't go with the explorers, she did kind of want to go, though she really did think it was for the best that she sit this one out. Shaking her head, she tried to get rid of thoughts about the expedition completely.

"Heh. Just have to do that for a month or longer. Easy..."

After a minute of trying to think up a solution, a very simple one popped up in her head: stories! To get rid of the thoughts, she just had to replace them with new ones, and the snowpony storytellers certainly had a way with telling them, managing to weave magnificent and captivating pictures with nothing but their words.

Now that she had a goal, the filly trotted through the village with a spring in her step, ears up and alert. Talking was what the snowpony tribes did the most of during the winter, given that there was simply little else to do. While plenty of those conversations were private - extended families from different tribes reconnecting and recounting what happened since they last met, for example - one could still find at least half a dozen musicians, storytellers, lore keepers, adventurers, and other kinds of ponies doing their thing in front of a group of rapt listeners at any given time. Even the winter cold didn't stop them, the fluffy ponies easily withstanding at least a few hours of exposure before they'd even consider going inside somewhere to warm up.

Stalking through Snowpitt, the little huntress soon found herself a suitable quarry. At least, the target seemed suitable at first, but then Agate realized that the mare that was telling stories just finished one. Standing quietly, Agate waited to see whether she would start another one, or whether the filly should move on and look for another pony. Instead, however, an unexpected third option happened - the mare saw the filly, raising her eyebrows.

"Well now, it looks like I'm an even better storyteller than I thought, to attract the spirits from beyond. Did you come to take my place, little one?" The mare addressed Agate, chuckling. The mare's audience turned towards the filly, looking at her curiously, some of them whispering between themselves.

"Oh, uh, not really? I don't really have any stories to tell," Agate shrugged awkwardly.

"Really now, what's this? There's no need to be so humble. You set the whole three tribes abuzz with your story in the Great Hall, you know. Ponies were talking about it all through the preparations for the Calling and the Spirit Night, when they weren't busy, and they're going to keep talking about it for months, if not many years," The storyteller asserted, a number of ponies in the crowd nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, but... I'm not a storyteller. I just told that one because, well... It happened to me. It was - is - my story. I don't really have any other interesting ones."

Seeing that she was making the spirit filly uncomfortable, the mare waved it off, smiling sympathetically. "Never mind that, then. If you do remember any stories from back home, though, don't hold back. Lots of ponies would be interested in hearing those, I think. Now then, what brought you here? Was there anything in particular you wanted to hear, or were you trying to catch the tail-end of the story I was telling?"

"Nothing in particular, I was just- Wait, actually, hmmmm..." Agate trailed off for a moment, the image of the northerners flashing in her mind's eye momentarily. "Now that you mention it, I was kind of curious about the strange ice weapons I saw the northern explorers wield. Those are made of ice, right? And the spears actually work? Wait, no, that's not really a story. I guess the question is, who came up with the idea of using ice to make weapons? And how? I think one of my spirit friends briefly mentioned something about it some time back."

The mare clopped her hooves together happily, her eyes lighting up. "Oh yes, I know that one! And it's been a while since anyone's asked to tell that story. Alrighty then, give me just a minute to dust off those dusty parts of my memory... Hmmm... Yes, it was way back when...." The mare trailed off into mutters, closing her eyes.

The listeners seemed slightly disappointed that Agate wasn't there to tell a story after all, but most were interested enough in her request to stay and listen. A few got up and left, leaving gaps in the crowd. Agate took one of them, sitting down on an old log. While it didn't really matter to her whether she sat on a cold pile of snow or a log any more, she still found it satisfying on some level. Moments later, the storyteller felt confident enough in her recollection, clearing her throat and getting everyone's attention.

"Alright, everyone, young and old, listen up. This is a story of adaptation and success, one of the many that our ancestors managed to achieve. To answer one of the young spirit's questions - the "how", specifically - the creation of the northerner's amazing weapons did not come about from the imagination of ponies, but by learning from the world around us, and taking its lessons to heart. Just like the stories say that the very first ponies learned how to fish from the bears, the magic of ice enchanting was gleaned from the terrible spirit-beasts that stalk the northern reaches, the floewolves. However, unlike the knowledge of fishing, it was gained in a far less, shall we say, peaceful manner, heh heh.

Now, as many of these stories do, this one began with a great northern explorer, who went by the name of Boundless Horizon. They say that, from his very foalhood, the young colt loved galloping through the icy northern tundra towards the horizon, losing himself in the endless chase. Needless to say, it caused no small amount of headaches for his parents. While they were certainly able to see that their foal had a wild and untameable spirit that yearned for travel and exploration, they knew all too well the dangers of going out without proper preparation, especially for a pony still so young.

They did their best to teach and support their child, only holding him back when it was necessary. For his part, Horizon was indeed very strong-spirited, but he was not foolish. When his parents warned him that if he kept running off like he did, he'd end up as a cautionary tale of what not to do, he took them seriously. Not wanting to be remembered as just another failure that got eaten by some beast, he did his best to rein in his wild instincts and temper them with knowledge and patience.

Diving into his studies, he did his best to learn, taking advice from both his parents and experienced explorers. There was certainly no shortage of tips and tricks coming from the elders - ropes and knots, flint and tinder, herbs and berries, nets and fish, storms and shelter, and many other things besides. It did strain him, however, and whenever he felt like his head was getting too full, he'd gallop off in a mad dash, though he did his best not to stray too far from the village.

Years passed, and the colt grew into a stallion. In truth, he was nothing overly remarkable - a great many northerners possess the same kind of restlessness and wanderlust, as I'm sure you're all aware. It is only time and their deeds that show which ones of them are just idle dreamers, and which ones truly have the cunning, the guile, the quick reflexes and endurance to go out into the northern wilderness and return not only alive, but victorious, raring to go again and again.

Well, time showed that Horizon was indeed such a pony. Funnily enough, though, while he loved galloping through the tundra, he hated sailing, which meant that it took him some time to actually get down to exploring unknown territories. At first, he worked as a messenger between the tribes, galloping tirelessly day and night. Later on, he started hauling cargo as well, becoming a fairly well-known merchant.

However, even with the added challenge of dragging a sleigh full of merchandise behind him, he eventually got bored of the repetitive back-and-forth trips. After some years, he was forced to accept the fact that if he wanted to see new horizons and unknown lands, he'd have to go northwards, across the sea. Grumbling a little, he sought out ponies that would teach him the finer points of not capsizing and drowning in the freezing waters.

He didn't become great at navigating the seas, but he was skilled enough to cross the waves without incident, eagerly debarking on unknown shores and galloping off. At that point, ponies began to notice him, though not in an entirely favorable light. You see, exploring the unknown by yourself is considered very risky - while large groups are equally bad, just about every elder and explorer will tell you that to travel without an extra two or three ponies to watch your back is just asking for trouble.

Despite that, though, there always are exceptions. Some ponies just work best alone, defying expectations and returning from every expedition with nary a scratch on their hides. After a few such successes, Boundless Horizon firmly established himself as such a pony, quickly dispelling the disdain the others had towards him. Trip after trip, island after island, he would come back with knowledge about every nook and cranny of the places that he explored, which islands were fit to settle and which ones weren't, adding to the tribe's maps and helping them expand their territory.

Some still thought that he simply survived through sheer luck, though that couldn't be further from the truth. All those years of galloping through the tundra built up his strength and endurance to legendary levels, his legs able to either crush any foe that tried to challenge him, or carry him away to safety faster than anyone could chase him. Besides that, he was cunning, always making sure to have a safe path to retreat in case danger arose.

There's some arguments whether he was the first one to see a floewolf, but he was certainly the first one to bring back actual proof to his tribe, not just terrified babbling about strange, icicle-covered beasts in the deep north, like some other explorers did. Everyone, from the youngest foal to the oldest shamare, was completely flabbergasted by his prize - huge fangs and teeth, sharp and strong, made of ice of the deepest blue that they ever saw.

Now, Horizon never cared much for glory and recognition, as he was travelling and exploring purely to satisfy his wanderlust and wild spirit. This time around, however, he was rightfully proud, displaying the trophy from what had to be a truly fearsome opponent. The entire tribe gathered around him, begging him to tell them just what sort of impossible creature he fought.

Acquiescing, he sat down, describing an island that he discovered far to the north. It didn't look unusual at first, but something about it put him on edge. Staying in his kayak, he slowly paddled along the shore, trying to determine just what was causing him such unease. Much like other islands, it was rocky, with sparse trees and bushes, and a few steep hills that he could see in the distance. It was rather large, too, which meant that it should have held more life than just the usual swarms of birds that inhabited the smaller islands.

As he thought about birds, he understood the source of his unease - it was oddly quiet, with only the smaller species of avians flapping around. Despite it being spring, most of the birds seemed to be actively avoiding the island, despite the large selection of unclaimed nesting grounds. His curiosity aroused, Horizon disembarked, immediately beginning to examine the sand and snow for clues.

He spent the entire day trying to find just what was so scary about the island, carefully moving in expanding half-circles from the beach and back. It was only when the Sun was setting when he found something - tracks of some kind of beast that he hadn't seen before. Whatever it was, he was able to tell three things from the tracks - it was big, heavy, and had some really long claws. Checking the direction of the tracks, he decided to sleep near the beach, as the creature seemed to prefer to remain deeper inland. After making sure that his kayak was ready for a quick escape if it came to it, he drifted off.

The next morning, instead of following the tracks, he immediately beelined for the steepest hill that he saw in the distance, looking in every direction. He trotted without making a sound, his snowwalking skill helping him move across the island unheard. He was ready to gallop away at the first sign of trouble, but to his slight surprise, nothing happened. Given how badly spooked the birds were, he'd been expecting to see entire packs of predators prowling through the island, but nothing materialized.

Reaching the hill, he found it to be exactly what he wanted. The spring sun hadn't managed to melt most of the snow on the ground yet, especially in the long shadows cast by the hills. However, the hillsides that faced the Sun were almost clear of ice, the rocks bare and damp in places. Knowing that the winter cold often loosened a number of boulders which would later roll and crash from the mountains once the ice thawed, he carefully climbed the hill, looking for unstable rocks. He loosened some, and even carefully rolled a few into a single spot himself, making use of his strength. It took him the better half of the day, but when he was done, he felt confident that even if something were to chase him, a rockslide should prove more than a sufficient distraction for him to get away safely. After catching his breath, he set out to find the mysterious predator.

Now, usually, meeting a floewolf is considered bad luck, but not when you're hunting for one. In that regard, Horizon certainly proved lucky. While he was trotting along and making at least half a dozen more plans for all kinds for traps, ambushes and potential escape routes, they all proved to be unnecessary as he saw his quarry in the distance - not that he understood it at first. While the floewolves are not the kind of predators that ever bother with stealth and sneaking, the fact that they're made of ice and snow can make them quite hard to spot against the snowy backgrounds they usually prowl in, to say the least. Horizon simply thought that he was seeing things, some kind of strange trick of the eyes, or perhaps even a mischievous spirit.

Well, the floewolf turned out to be very, very real, alright. Spotting the stallion, the beast let out an unearthly growl before charging right at him. To Horizon's credit, it only took him a fraction of a heartbeat to see the flashing claws and glimmering fangs and start galloping away. The chase was on.

Now, though he already worked hard that day moving those boulders, that was little more than a vigorous warmup for the rugged stallion. Laughing merrily, his mane to the wind, he galloped at full speed, glancing behind him now and then. Though the wolf looked truly terrifying, it didn't seem much faster than Horizon, which was all that he needed to know that he'd make it out alive. However, he wanted more than just escape, and so he led the wolf to his trap instead of running to his kayak.

At first, he thought he'd need to climb the hillside himself and loose the rocks, but as he felt and heard the heavy stomps of the ice beast, he surmised that its bulk alone would be enough to shift the deliberately precariously stacked boulders. Galloping right on the edge of the hill, he couldn't hold back a wry grin as the wolf barreled after him. Finding the spot, he galloped past it, whirling around and tossing a spear right at the wolf's head. He knew that it likely wouldn't do anything, but his only goal was to distract it for even a brief moment, which he did successfully.

The spear smacked into the wolf's cheek, making it stumble in surprise. The hard stomp slowed it down and shook the hillside, loosing all of the rocks right on top of it. It tried to jump away, but slipped on the smaller stones and debris, which slowed it just long enough for a huge boulder to drop on its upper back, shattering the creature. Howling in more fury than pain, it tried to crawl forward, but its forelegs were too badly damaged, breaking apart from the effort. It tried to gnash its teeth at the stallion, but that only served to make its head crack, as well.

Horizon held his breath as he stared in awe at the sight before him. He still expected his foe to be a flesh and blood creature, perhaps having found a way to use the ice and snow as either camouflage or armor. Instead, it turned out to be a bizarre incarnate of the north itself, even more than the windigoes - predatory, fearless, and very, very cold. When the wolf's body cracked, great freezing vapors exploded from the inside, coating everything around in a layer of frost.

Trotting towards the downed foe, Horizon breathed slowly, feeling the chill of the deepest winter emanating from the shards of ice buried under the rocks. Blinking, he bent down to examine the shattered head, only for an eye to turn and look right at him. Jumping back, he got ready to gallop away as the growling spirit rose from it's remains, glaring at the one that dared to strike it down with such impunity.

However, the spirit did not give chase, which gave Horizon pause. It growled and barked at him, but didn't seem inclined to attack. Observing it, he soon saw why - pieces of ice and snow were slowly skittering towards the rubble, forming into a pile. Some of the broken shards joined it, slowly knitting themselves together. The floewolf was rebuilding itself, right before his eyes. And judging from its disposition, it would give chase again as soon as it did. Until that happened, however...

Smirking, Horizon got closer. The wolf howled furiously, blasting him with icy winds. However, besides covering him in frost, it achieved nothing. Wiping his face clean, he decided to teach the overly arrogant predator some humility in defeat. Defiantly trotting up right to its face, he gave it an unimpressed look before turning around and bucking the unfinished body to bits.

Needless to say, that made the wolf lose its cool completely, gnashing and clawing at the stallion. However, while its ethereal claws did hurt somewhat, it was clearly far less powerful in its spirit form. Shaking off the frost, Horizon quickly bent down and smashed the remains of the wolf's head, scooping up its fangs and teeth into his saddlebags. Blowing the furious spirit a raspberry, he galloped away, feeling the warmth from the exercise melt away the ethereal cold from the wolf's attacks.

The wolf chased him for a short while, but soon gave up in favor of going back to creating a new body for itself. While Horizon was terribly tempted to stay and observe the floewolf's behavior a little longer, he knew not to push his luck. He did spend most of the day doing hard labor and galloping furiously, and he was certain that the wolf would recover its strength before he did. Not to mention the fact that wolves tended to hunt in packs, and he did not want to find out whether these ones behaved the same. He'd dealt with one, with proper preparation. A pack of such wolves would tear him to bits, preparation or not.

Packing up his gear, he pushed his kayak into the waves, paddling away. Navigating by stars, he paddled through the night, uncertain if the floewolf would be able to track him by its missing teeth. Despite the potential risk, he pushed on, determined to get back to his tribe and tell them about the dangers and the wonders that he discovered. For over a week, he did nothing but eat, sleep, and paddle, stopping to rest only on barren, uninhabited islands. Eventually, he saw the shores of Nilas, crying out triumphantly as he jumped from his kayak to pull it ashore.

The tribe was amazed, showering him with praise for his cunning, strength and endurance. For his part, he took it in calmly, still humble in his demeanor. When the shamares asked him to allow them to examine the fangs more closely, he hoofed them over with a shrug, saying that he thought about making a necklace out of them, but with how freezing cold they felt, he didn't really want to have them near his chest.

While strong, Horizon was not tireless. After a long, furious retreat from the depths of the north, he was exhausted. Telling the shamares to do whatever they wanted, he passed them the rest of the teeth as well, going home to get some well-deserved shuteye. Muttering and whispering wildly, the mystical mares scuttled off to their huts, eager to taste and unravel the magic of the floewolves.

No one really knew what to expect from that odd display, so the regular ponies mostly forgot about the shamare's behavior, spending their time asking Boundless Horizon for more details. Some just wanted to hear an exciting story, while others were more interested in ways to defeat a floewolf themselves, if they ever came across one in their own expeditions. Horizon made sure to mention that his spear was nigh-on useless, musing that one would need some sort of heavy crushing weapon to fight such a beast without having a trap with a rockslide prepared, like he did. It was only then that he realized he left his spear buried under the rubble, all the way in the north. It had been a really nice spear, too.

Fortunately for him, the shamares quickly fixed that issue. Working with a few craftsponies, they fashioned the fangs into a set of four spears, each one bearing the freezing might of the north. And though Horizon was an explorer first and foremost, he certainly still could appreciate a truly fine weapon. The fangs were fearsome, the normally brittle ice hardened by the floewolf's magic to such a degree that even metal spears could not measure up to them.

Everyone was joyful, celebrating the stallion's achievements with a feast. Already, many were talking about the tribe equipping itself with such weapons, something which would finally give them an edge over the northern monsters, which were fiercer and tougher than anything the southerners and westerners had to deal with. Some hunters even mused about going on a floewolf hunt then and there, just to get a set of such magnificent spears for themselves.

Boundless Horizon poured some water on that fire by reminding them that he escaped from that encounter unscathed and victorious purely because the circumstances aligned themselves just right for him to set up his trap. The creatures were still terribly dangerous, and they shouldn't do anything rash before they had a certain way to bring one down. While they grumbled, the hotheads were forced to agree.

Fortunately for them, the shamares didn't stop at simply making the spears. They studied the floewolf's teeth for weeks, looking, searching, feeling, dreaming, and meditating. They lived and breathed the freezing northern winds, feeling and hearing the furious gales ripping through the air, and they refused to let this frozen piece of ice confound them. It was a challenge, a riddle and a mystery, things that most shamares can't get enough of, and they took to unravelling the mystery with a furious effort. They spent the whole summer and autumn at it, and on the first day of the new winter, they proudly presented their chieftain with the first ice spear, made by pony hooves and magic. A mighty cheer arose from the northerners, silencing even the northern wind for a brief moment. Once again, the snowponies had learned the north's secrets, and were ever more prepared to face it's dangers.

Now, no one knows for certain just how the shamares actually make the spears. There's water involved, of course, and magic, but besides that, it's all rumors and hearsay. Some claim to have seen the rituals, glimpsing shamares sitting under the darkest skies in the cold of winter, quietly whispering to the water about true cold, the primal, actual cold between the glimmering, frozen stars, not this positively sweltering air of the northern winter, urging the water to remember the ancient times, before the Sun, before light, before warmth, slowly forming and caressing the spear with ice-encrusted hooves. Is it true? Ask a shamare, I suppose.

And that is the story of how the northerners came to possess those weapons. Not every northerner has one, since it does take time and effort for the shamares to make them, and they do have other duties. Some prefer to make the spears out of genuine floewolf fangs, too, claiming that it is more honorable and a better mark of one's success as a hunter to follow in Boundless Horizon's hoofsteps, instead of having one made for you, despite the danger of going out to face the spirit beasts. To each their own, I suppose."

Finishing her story, the storyteller gave a bow with a flourish, earning herself a round of applause and cheers. Since Agate couldn't really make any noise by clopping her hooves, she joined in the cheering. After the applause died down, she gave the mare a thankful nod, to which she replied with a smile and a wink.

❅ ❆ ❅

Agate's plan to distract herself had been partially successful. While there were indeed plenty of ponies telling all kinds of stories and lessons to listeners both young and old, she found that she wasn't able to pay proper attention to most of them. While the teachings of how to get around in the wilderness by Spear Throw and Gnarled Root were practical and still applicable despite her being a spirit, the filly found herself completely uninterested in things that she had no use for.

Things like learning how to fish or the way to make a sleigh sounded interesting at first, but Agate would lose attention almost immediately when she remembered that she'd never be actually able to do any of those things, no matter how intriguing the theoretical knowledge sounded. As such, she mostly sought out the storytellers rather than teachers, listening to more poetry, songs, and stories of grand adventures and exploration.

And, of course, she kept up with her friends and her teacher. Day by day, or rather, night by night - the Long Night was really long, seriously - she spent her time learning, playing, and sometimes teaching or retelling her own story to curious snowponies that wanted to know more about her, talking to a few storytellers on a several occasions.

She was a little surprised to find out that they wanted to memorize her story well enough to be able to tell it themselves. They were amused by it, explaining to her that such an important event should not be allowed to be forgotten in case she had to leave, and no one else had the knowledge to retell the story correctly. Agate felt a bit awkward, but she understood that it wasn't exactly her that was so important, but simply the fact that she was a representative from a lost part of the world and history that their ancestors forgot a long, long time ago.

Days, then weeks, then a month passed, and before she knew it, it happened. As she was returning to her clearing from a lesson with Dreamcatcher, Agate saw something in the distance, approaching Snowpitt. They were nothing but vague shapes in the darkness at first, but eventually they resolved themselves into the forms of ponies. Patiently waiting by her totem, she kept gazing southwards until she was able to make out more details. Ponies with weapons and gear, dragging sleighs behind them, with Icicle and Long Stride taking point.

The expedition to Dream Valley had returned.

Comments

[Wingnut]

I have nothing clever to say this time. Have a floewolf.
cdn.twibooru.org/img/2021/10/19/2573887/large.png

[Danger Noodle]

Great writing as usual. Looking forward to finding out what they didn't find!

[new55]

That was a good chapter. I wonder if the expedition found anything beyond questions.

[Spacemarine64]

Lovely story within a story. I don't know how long you plan on this story being, but it feels like it could go on for a long time. Which is good. I hope you have a fantastic Thanksgiving and I can't wait for the next chapter.

[Wingnut]

11431696

I don't know how long you plan on this story being, but it feels like it could go on for a long time.

I don't know either, since it's my first story. I have the most important parts figured out, which is the beginning and the end, according to various writing guides. How much I manage to write inbetween depends entirely on my imagination. I do have a large number of adventures planned out already, so it's likely to keep going for a fair bit.

[StarzGecko]

11431782
I hope it keeps going for a long time. I’m not sure how you’ll write the story after Agate has been a spirit for 100 years or so but I have theories on how you’ll end the story which would be very heartbreaking and good ending…

So far, I’m hoping Agate explores the other Snow Pony tribes in the near future which would be cool.

[BirdsBooksBrownies]

11435085
While I agree that the show itself is built on a hodge-podge of various world mythologies and it sounds like this person was just griping for the sake of griping or "THEY didn't like it, so therefore it's OBVIOUSLY wrong" I will say that in my own opinion, Ponification does take a certain measure of skill if one wants to do it well.

Earlier this year in a spike of "creative juices" I started dabbling on a fanfiction based on the concept of Ponies being on board the legendary RMS Titanic. I got into a discussion with someone who wanted me to write it like M6 slapped on board with little to no purpose besides "pony". I wanted to give the girls real stakes in what happened.

The same could be said for this story. You could have just slapped a pony label on an otherwise straight cut of inuit mythos, but you tried to blend the real with the magical and thus far I think you've done a fair job considering you said in your blog post that this was one of your first attempts at writing here. Is there room for improvement? I'd say so, but again for a first timer you aren't doing half-bad.

[BirdsBooksBrownies]

I look forward to seeing what the expedition found or didn't find. Keep up the great work

[BirdsBooksBrownies]

11438143
You are quite welcome. Glad I could be of assistance.

[midnight arrow]

great chapter

[Kit the Kite]

I just managed to get around to reading this and I have to say I love it! Handling these cultures with proper respect isn’t done often enough, and the use of the various myths and magic together is very creative. I enjoy the prose quite a bit and I can’t wait to see more. Keep up the amazing work!

[Wingnut]

11444642
Thanks, I'll do my best.

[sploopy slooder]

every chapter that goes by i ask myself, whats the point of this? agate still has zero goals or motivations. theres no PURPOSE to the story. its just a meandering path of nothing of consequence happening over and over. at best what she does could qualify as side quests. what is the actual point of this story? what is it trying to tell? because literally all its been since she died is lore dumps and world building, but no actual story.