Chapter 14 - Sunset
Half Note was lonely.
She had been pounding the Earth with the Buffalo for weeks, maybe months now, putting one hoof in front of the other as best she could. When the sun set she would meet up with Mourning Dew and talk. Most of the time Half Note got simple details on the nature of Zephyr and aspects of the nomadic culture. Other times, Dew would ask her questions about Pony life, to which she responded as best as she could. She talked about farms and markets and Canterlot and Alicorns. They talked about a lot of things.
But Half Note was lonely.
Talking during the Stampede was taboo, so even though she ran next to both of her best friends in the world she couldn't say a word. And though Half Note had rapidly acclimated to the strain of the non-stop running, Firelock was always too tired at the end of the day and even Tornado Bolt was showing signs of weariness. Neither of them had come to eat with her and the Shaman since the first night, and the Earth Pony could see all too well the resentment in the Pegasus's eyes to attempt a conversation starter on her own.
Surrounded by thousands of Buffalo, Half Note felt acutely alone.
She poked at the bowl of porridgey stuff that was dinner and looked over to the fire her friends shared with some of the younger Buffalo. Tornado Bolt was waving her arms dramatically and gesturing to Firelock, who was laying on her back holding a bowl over her face. The words were lost, but she heard Tornado's voice admonishing those of the young Bison and prodding Firelock until she levitated the bowl away from her face in a green glow that matched her eyes and twirled it about. The Buffalo were silent for a moment before whooping and applauding. Firelock waved a hoof before letting the bowl plop right back down where it was a moment ago.
Half Note sighed and ate more. The brown mushy stuff was good, even if it didn't look like it.
The Shaman hummed and looked at her adoptive pupil.
"You have yet to ask me a question, young one. Surely you are not out of them yet?"
Half Note stared at her bowl, now empty, before turning her eyes to the old medicine woman. "...How much longer?"
Mourning Dew blinked. "Come again?"
Half Note huffed. "How much longer until we're done and I can go home and be done with this whole stupid thing?" She slammed her bowl down on the ground. "I should have never left home, all that's happened since we got here has only been dangerous or stupid or made my friends hate me! The only thing that even points to Earth Ponies not being the dupes of the whole world is that big dragon Aestrak, and he only got pissy when I said I didn't have any magic! He didn't tell me any what kind, just that I was horrible for not already knowing. As far as I can tell, Earth Ponies have the short end of the stick and nopony else wants to admit it. Firelock and Tornado Bolt are running themselves ragged just to prove a point and even though all the evidence points to any Earth Pony magic being something stupid they don't wanna be wrong."
She shook her head and hid her face with her hooves. "I don't like seeing them like this. I don't like them being mad at me. I just want to go home, fix this stupid 'gift' he gave me and act like none of this happened. I want to get to Las Pegasus and get on a train and go home already. I wanna go home." She curled up in a ball on the ground and let herself cry. She cried and cried, and Mourning Dew sat there, her eyes and mouth closed.
Half Note eventually ran out of tears, and tried to quell her breathing. She turned big, puffy eyes to the closest thing she had to a friend right now, who sat still and motionless. The pink Pony hiccuped.
"Three weeks."
Half Note sniffed and wiped her eyes. Her hooves were dirty and the grit made her eyes water more.
"Three weeks, and we reach our destination. Is that all?"
Half Note turned her head away, ashamed of her tears. "One question per night, right?"
The Shaman shrugged. "It is a common question asked by children to their parents. I do not think it counts."
Half Note poked at the ground. Mourning Dew sat quietly, waiting for an answer.
"...What do you know about Earth Pony Magic?"
The Shaman mad a thoughtful noise and looked aside. It was a quiet moment before she responded.
"I know little about your kind, Half Note. The path the Buffalo take is very different from that traversed by any pony at all. I know you resent the association of Earth Ponies with farmers and manual labor, and I cannot blame you - to have any title impressed upon you by the circumstances of your birth or other nature is unfortunate and unwanted. But consider how you described your Unicorn and Pegasus sisters - you thought them first artisans and athletes, in the same way you resent being thought of as a laborer."
She sighed through her nostrils. "I do know what you have told me of your own side of this world. Where I and my kin run wild and free upon the Earth as do the winds, we are just as subject to their fickleness. Should the weather on the Stampede be cruel or disfavor the foods we eat, my kind suffers. We go hungry as often as we feast. Our own magic lies in hearing what the Earth is saying, and heeding the advice it gives. It is a small, humble one when compared to that of your kin.
"But from what you tell me of the Pony world, each of the three has an inclination towards one role. Perhaps the Unicorns sometimes resent their association with the scholarly and artistic - I'm sure there must exist those among them who wish to be athletes, or to live simpler lives like those of the farmers. And while it may be harder for them to achieve these things, they are still free and capable to do so.
"But the talents of a Unicorn favor the path of the scholar, and so so many follow it, for ease if not their own desire. So, I am no Earth Pony, and I know little of your magics. But what I see from the stories you have shared tells me that it does exist. Maybe it is simply a proficiency with plant life, who am I to say? But your kind thrives by staying in one place, by working with the Earth instead of being subject to it, as I am. There is a magic in that, I think. Perhaps subtler than the other Ponies, but brighter than that of the Buffalo.
"Although, I do admit I have never seen a Pony of any kind pick up on the Song the Earth Sings with us before. Perhaps you have some Buffalo in you? That could explain much."
Half Note blinked, and noticed that her eyes felt less puffy. They still itched, though, and she rubbed a foreleg against her face to subdue it, and let herself smile at the prod from the Shaman.
"I don't think so, but maybe. Thanks, Mourning Dew."
The Shaman nodded. "Now, to your other question."
The Pony blinked. "...I thought I only got one?"
Dew smiled. "About my culture and knowledge on magic, yes. About your friends? That is a different story."
Half Note grimaced again. "...They're mad at me."
The Shaman shrugged. "They feel that you've given up. Have you?"
A sigh. "I...I want to. Or, wanted to, I guess. It felt pointless, like we were doing all this for nothing. What you said helped a lot, though." The pink mare chuckled. "I suppose if nothing else I should see this through so that the big giant dragon doesn't come eat me." She chanced a smile, which slowly faded. "That doesn't mean they don't still hate me though."
Mourning Dew walked over to Half Note and lifted her chin with a hoof. Blue, watery eyes met stoic brown ones.
"They felt you wanting to quit, and that hurt them. Let them know that you haven't, and the wounds will start to heal. They are your friends, after all, and if what you told me about recent events is true...well, then that's a kind of magic in and of itself, isn't it?"
With a quiet smile the Shaman left the fire and walked to her thipi, leaving Half Note alone with her thoughts. She looked to the fire where her friends were strewn about in sleep and smiled sadly to herself.
The next day was different. The three ponies stationed at the head of the Stampede ran in silence. But the silence wasn't quite so cold anymore. Tornado Bolt had noticed something different about her friend - a change in her posture or stature, she wasn't quite sure what. But it was better than the downcast and resigned appearance she had worn for so long, and the improvement in her friend cheered her up.
That night Half Note shared their fire, though she didn't say anything.
The next day was better. Firelock finally felt like she was getting the hang of things, that she could really pull this off. She almost regretted that they were almost through.
That night the three had a small, simple conversation. Not the banter of the good friends they were, but friendly nonetheless.
The next day was even better, that night accompanied by friendly chatter and laughs.
The next, even more so. It didn't feel like long before the three were back to the strange and wonderful dynamic they had had when they had set out, if cut short by the long days and lessons with Mourning Dew. But things were better, and that was all that mattered to Half Note.
At least until the lights of a Pony city teased the horizon and turned a small range of mountains a beautiful shade of gold.
As the sunset that night, she was pulled aside by the Shaman, who led her to Thunderhooves. He sat alone at a large fire, in all his ceremonial dress. He usually preferred to, once the running was done, remove his headgear and relax with his fellows.
"Half Note." He grumbled her name, as though struggling with what he said. "You have run with us, and run with us well. You have earned your place among us, and proven your worthiness as a dancer. But..." He lulled again. "...this next night is the end of the Stampede, and the dance is...different. You will start alone, but you will finish with a partner. Do nothing to offend her, do you understand? Continue dancing, and if she dances with you, dance with her back. This is important."
Half Note gulped and nodded. The Chieftain sighed and looked to the west, where the sun had dyed the sky a myriad of purples and golds.
"I understand what you came along with us for, young one, and I feel you shall soon leave. Be careful, in all that you do." With that he rose and left.
"I'm sure you'll do fine - I have taught you well, have I not?" Mourning Dew walked up to Half Note and patted her on the shoulder before walking off herself.
Half Note felt heavy.
She stood in the middle of a ring of drummers, fires, and Buffalo. There was no music, just the whispers of tired voices rustling through the tribe as they waited. The sun was on it's decline, but not yet on the horizon.
Covered in more feathers than Tornado Bolt, Half Note did not feel like flying.
The dance was important, and as soon as they had finished running the pink Pony had been ushered aside and been decked out in every piece of ceremonial gear that would fit her frame. Several minutes had been wasted on a debate over how important the horn cuffs were and if they would stay on her ears. Long story short, they didn't. Half Note looked around the crowds and saw two familiar faces, orange and purple, giving her encouraging smiles.
Half Note was laden from head to toe in beads and baubles - but she felt a little lighter.
Chief Thunderhooves and Mourning Dew walked to the center of the circle. The whispers died.
The Chief and Shaman were as over-dressed and adorned as Half Note. They stood end to end, staring in silence at opposing ends of the circle.
When they spoke, they spoke in unison, addressing their tribe in their native tongue. Not for the first time, Half Note regretted not learning more of it. She was able to pick out the name Zephyr, and what she was fairly certain was a color, but the rest was just pretty sounds.
The pair of leaders punctuated the end of their speech with a stamp of their hooves and walked calmly out to the edge of the circle. When they sat down, the drummers began in their typical, slow and steady fashion.
Half Note let herself fall into the music she had become so accustomed to, and let her feet guide her through the tempo and humming the tune to herself.
She nearly faltered when the music slowed and lost a piece of what she was used to. She opened her eyes and saw, across the circle, a young white buffalo, lithe as a cat, dancing along with her. Half Note continued to move her feet as her brain whirred.
I've never seen her before...She must be the other dancer.
The worry melted from her mind as the music picked up once more, and she let herself spin in circles, her tail and feathers and beads spiraling around her. She worked her way towards the center of the circle, where the dance had always ended. So too did the white buffalo, spinning and whirring in step.
When they reached the center, neither stopped. Instead, they spun and twirlled and stepped around each other, bowing and spinning and lilting in unison. Half Note had never done this before, never kept dancing when she'd reached the center, but the music hadn't stopped - if anything, it had picked up speed - and she would do the same.
Somewhere in her head she knew with how much she was moving she should be getting dizzy. All she felt that was strange was a bubbling in her gut. It felt tense, waiting.
With a particularly solid stomp on the ground with her alabaster partner, she let it out.
She started singing a wordless song.
So too did her partner, with a voice unlike any she had ever heard before. It sounded like a thousand echos across a mountain range from a thousand voices singing in harmony. It was eerie, yet unequivocally beautiful.
She felt the wind whip around her head, tossing her mane and tail. She didn't care - it felt great. She heard voices, familiar voices, shout loud with concern. She let herself keep dancing. She felt the heavy reverberations of the drumbeats intensify, and she followed the music like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Then it all stopped.
She opened her eyes again, and looked into those of her fellow dancer - they shone purple, then gold, then pink, then purple again, shifting like the setting sun. Half Note gulped and looked around briefly. The Buffalo had their heads down in a bow - all of them, even the Chief and Shaman. Her friends, though, were sitting straight up, staring wide eyed and slack-jawed.
Half Note heard a chuckle, and turned back to the white buffalo. She was smiling now, and raised an eyebrow at the Pony across from her. She smiled back sheepishly.
The stranger snorted with a smile and shook her head. She turned and walked towards the sun, now just barely keeping it's head above the coastline. Half Note blinked - when had there been a path through the crowd there?
She blinked again. The white Buffalo had turned back to her and nodded to her friends before jerking her head. Half Note looked back to them and saw them look to her. She shrugged, turned back to the stranger, and nodded before following.
Light hooffalls and wingbeats let her know that, whatever she was walking into, Half Note was not alone. She felt warm inside.
They followed the white buffalo in silence. There was nothing to say as they were led along an invisible path through a forest and up a mountain. The sun seemed to slow in it's decent, keeping the world locked in the golden hour as they progressed upwards. Time didn't seem to be working right, but they were unconcerned - whatever dangers lay ahead, they were together.
When they reached the peak of the mountain, Half Note let her gaze wander from side to side. It was impossible to tell where the sun had gone - the entire sky was lit up in the golden haze of dusk. The smaller mountains reflected it back and twinkled in rainbows.
She looked back to the white buffalo, who was now sitting in the center of the plateau. Half Note realized that, as high up as they were, there should not be the soft grassy carpet they now stood upon, and the wind that teased her mane should be much colder. But it was all very pleasant, very calming.
Half Note briefly wondered if she'd died.
The thought was banished when the white buffalo collapsed with a thud on the ground. She had only time to gasp before the wind rushed in and pulled her body apart like dust, twirling the fragments of their guide around like sparkling stars.
The three Ponies stared as the ashes spiraled around, growing bigger but never thinner. They shone brighter white with the golden light as they swirled and thickened; brilliant, blinding light.
Half Note covered her eyes as the light surged, and blinked to clear them as it faded. Where the white buffalo had fallen now stood a great crane, with a tail plumed much like a peacock, but the colors...Oh, the colors. Half Note would never be able to describe them with justice - the feathers shimmered like polished gold or fine cut gems, colored like the setting sun and a burning fire and so many things at once. Half Note's eyes burned as she saw colors she never knew existed. Only the beak and feet were so easy - a subdued, matte steel.
The bird ruffled it's feathers and took a step forward on silver feet to match it's beak. Half Note noticed that there was an extra pair of wings, one draped along the ground and the other held at attention at the shoulders. The bird lowered her head and turned so that her eye was trained on the three ponies - they were acutely reflected across the iris as it shifted from gold to purple to pink and back again. When she spoke, Half Note recognized the voice as the one she had sung with.
"My brother sent you?"
Half Note, Tornado Bolt and Firelock all nodded together.
Zephyr smiled, no small feat with a beak.
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I keep reading the shaman's name as Mountain Dew.
3062978
...I wanna change it to that now. It would still make sense!
3064468
once your story has been marked "complete" for awhile, there isn't much reason not to.
Well, practically half of mythological deities have some form of shapeshifting powers, so the personification of the West Wind wouldn't surprise me either. Let's see if she has something for Half Note, or if she undoes all the work Mourning Dew did earlier by sending them on another quest
I wasn't going to comment til I finished, but I felt this chapter warranted its own commentary.
The anxiety that Half Note experiences, as well as the feelings of inadequacy and self doubt are things I, and likely many others, can sympathize with. I spent a good deal of my childhood feeling worthless. While I have managed to find some shards of self worth as I got older, it's something I struggle with even today. I think you captured the emotions many, myself included, experience when we doubt ourselves.
And now for something less angsty:
I really liked the dance scene. It was powerful and energetic without relying on flamboyant descriptions and words. It mirrored the music that would accompany the dance itself, simple but expressive.