Written in Stone

by KaraC

The Barren Bitch

Rich, proud howls filled of hunting Dogs the air as she walked through the lush forest; she could have joined them, had she not been so burdened. It had happened again and her heart could take it no more; a full litter of five, all stillborn. Right now, all the other heavy bitches had given birth and were happily nursing their whelps and here she was, travelling alone, above ground, to the edges of their territory and beyond; the heavy fur bag in her jaws swinging pendulously back and forth with her dead pups, ready for burial.

‘Why is this happening to me?’ She thought morosely as the line of stiff fur that began beneath her golden orbs and trailed around her brindle cheeks and muzzle became wet with new tears. ‘Six litters, twenty four pups, all stillborn. The Barren Alpha, they call me when they don’t think I can hear. They’re right. What good is an Alpha Bitch who can’t even birth a single heir?’ Tears flowed faster now and she gently put her bag down before she started to brokenly howl her sorrow. There was no answer, but there wouldn’t be, she knew. There would be no comfort for her until she returned to the pack after finishing her task.

‘If I return.’ She sighed inwardly as she lowered her nose and picked up her burden once again. There was only so much heartbreak a bitch could take after all. ‘They would probably understand. If I didn’t come back, if I just … vanished … he would be free to find a new bitch; one who could give him the pups he so desperately wants.’ Pausing as she reached the territory boundary, she sniffed the air and noted a small herd of ponies had passed very recently. But she had no appetite, even though she hadn’t eaten since the day before she’d had her litter.

Still sniffling, she continued to walk under the heavy forest canopy with only the chirping of obscenely cheery birds for company. Soon the trees began to thin out and the unforgiving rays of the sun nearly blinded her even though she had ducked her head and squinted her eyes. ‘This was thick forest, last spring. What happened?’ Her vision was sensitive enough to let her see clearly in even the darkest of caves, so the sudden brightness had her in near agony as she stumbled backward into the tree line, whimpering.

It was a long time before she could see again, long enough that the trees she’d taken shelter in were now casting large shadows into the field. Much more cautiously than before, she poked her head out and beheld a strange sight. Thick stones engraved with strange markings were standing vertically in unnaturally straight lines. Her nose told her that ponies had been here only an hour ago, while she had been recovering. Blinking and cocking her head, she sat down. ‘A teaching place?’ She wondered. The Pack had such a place; the Stone Memory was a tunnel deep in the ground where notable events and Dogs who had done extraordinary things were carved into the very walls and used to teach the pups. ‘No … the air here is all wrong. This is no place of learning, this is a place of mourning. Are these stones markers then? Markers for the place ponies bury their dead? That makes no sense.’ She couldn’t grasp the reason ponies did this, why constantly remind themselves of the one they’d lost? Didn’t the act of burial give them the closure needed for them to move on?

She shook her head, the bag swaying in her teeth as she sighed through her nose. How did ponies move forward with these stones anchoring them in the past? ‘Oh well.’ Besides, she had her own dead to bury and, perhaps, she would stay with them. She knew she wouldn’t move on, she couldn’t. She was broken, a burden. Only the strong survived and she wasn’t strong, not anymore. Six stillborn litters had stolen the will to live from her. Eyes narrowed and head bowed, she crossed the grassy mourning place while staying in the long shadow of the trees behind her. It wasn’t far now.

The glade was small and private with only a small opening between the wide tree canopies that allowed a view of the slowly darkening sky. It took only a few swipes of her massive forepaw to dig a perfect hole, the result of far too much practice, unfortunately. Tears once again began rolling from her eyes as she slowly nosed open the bag and withdrew the first limp, cold pup by his scruff. Gingerly, she placed him in the hole before she dug another one and repeated her previous actions, this time with a little female. Three more holes, two more males and one more female; pausing each time to allow her the opportunity to wipe her eyes clear with her foreleg.

“I’m sorry.” She told them as she sat in front of the line of little graves with her spine and shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to keep you all alive. I’m sorry you never had a chance to be named, to know how much I love you.”

Her nose rose upward and pointed to the emerging stars above. “There are many brothers and sisters waiting for you, where you’re going. I’m sure they’ll be gentle with you until you’re ready to try life again and the First Alphas will be there to show you the way.” Her constricted throat was making it difficult to speak, but she fought through it. If she was to gain any closure tonight, she had to make sure her pups knew if not her body, then her heart.

“I think I would have been a good mother; would have taught you to dig, to hunt, to sing and to lead.” She sighed and looked back at the direction she had come from before turning back to them. “Being an Alpha requires more than strength of the body, it requires strength of heart and character. One of you would have been a wonderful Alpha, I’m sure; so wonderful your deeds would have been carved in Stone Memory.”

Then she threw her head back and began to sing. She sang about all the members of the Pack, all their names and all their stories. She sang tales of history, of hunting, of being together. The love she had held for all those she had lost, the love she still held for her mate, her sisters and brothers, aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews. She sang until she nearly collapsed from sheer emotional and physical exhaustion.

After the last echoes vanished, all was silent in the glade for several long minutes before she sniffed and began to push the loose soil over the tiny bodies. It was difficult, at first. But with each hole filled, her heart became a little lighter and her thoughts a little clearer. ‘I’ll go home in the morning.’ It was her last coherent thought as she yawned and fell into a deep, healing slumber.

---

‘If she was dreaming, she didn’t want to wake up. If she was dead, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was so happy. The warm scent of new life filled her nose and calmed her turbulent mind; the feel of a tiny mouth vigorously suckling at her teats lifted her heavy heart. Some tiny part of her mind found it strange there was only one mouth but it was ruthlessly shoved aside by the rest of her. One or one hundred, it didn’t matter; her whelp needed her and she groaned in utter contentment.’

‘The tiny mouth pulled away and was replaced with the softness of infant fur wrapped around breathing lungs and a beating heart. She wanted to open her eyes and watch her pup sleep, but they wouldn’t open. That was alright, she decided. Even if she could never open her eyes again, as long as she could feel the little bitch, hear her sweet little noises and smell how healthy she was; she could live with that.’

‘The personal scent of the pup smelled a little strange, like night time, if the night had a scent and a lingering touch of death. Oh well, that just meant it was bath time. Lifting her head, she followed her nose and ears to the bitch’s head and began to clean her whelp. Her tongue found the little one’s nose and licked up, following the grain. But something was wrong. She stopped and tried to think about it, but her mind was strangely muddled on the matter, so she shrugged it off and moved upward. Her nose contacted long fur. Strange for a Dog or a Bitch to be born with a long ruff these days, but it had happened before in her bloodline. Her tongue emerged again and began grooming. As she licked the whelp, she imprinted the bitch’s scent into her mind and made sure the little one was doing the same. After all, if she weren’t able to see anymore, she would need to know the scent of her pup better than that of her mate.’

‘Lick, lick, lick. The whelp needed a name. Lick, lick, lick. A strong name, for she knew her little bitch would be very strong. Lick, lick, lick. Something involving the night, to match her scent; Star? No, no… Lick, lick, lick. Moon …? Almost. Definitely something with Moon in it; that felt right. Lick, lick, lick. Moonpaw? No. Moonray? No. Moon … Moon … Lick, lick, lick. Moonsong? Yes, Moonsong was the perfect name. Lick, lick, li – bleah, feathers!’

‘Wait, what? Feathers? That didn’t make any sense at all. Why would her perfect little Moonsong have feathers? She forced open her eyes …’

---

And found her gaze meeting that of a pony whelp. A strange looking pony whelp, but a pony whelp nonetheless.

“Wha … Where did you come from?” As startled as she was, her voice was surprisingly gentle. Moonsong– the pony whelp yawned and blinked at her with Dog-like eyes the colour of the brightest sapphires. Confused beyond all reason, because her eyes and her brain were telling her one thing, but her nose and her instincts were telling her the total opposite, she tilted her head and examined Moonsong– the pony whelp more thoroughly.

She looked like that one pony whelp the three herds had been fighting about a couple of hundred years ago, the white one with the wings and the horn; except her fur was the colour of the midnight sky and her eyes were meant to see in the dark. Where was her herd? Why wasn’t she with them? The questions in her brain rattled around as she looked up at the sky and saw the full moon sitting at its peak. She certainly wasn’t more than a few hours old, the scent told her that much. ‘Wait. I smelled death on her in my dream; it made me clean her … oh.’ The pack had been hunting earlier too. The pieces began to fall into place and she sighed.

The pony whelp- Moonsong, nuzzled her, and just like that she made up her mind. Surging to her paws, she watched Moonsong immediately follow her lead.

“Come along Moonsong, time to introduce you to your father and the Pack. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to meet you.” She cajoled her whelp as she began her long walk home, thinking ‘and if they’re not, I’ll be sure to remind them that just because I’m barren, I’m still their Alpha Bitch.’

Author's Note:

Written for the March 'World-Building Alliance' group contest. Edited by me. I've got my fingers crossed!

Comments

[Cystenian Remir Rhys]

You won. WOW. Such amazing story-telling, and in my little useless opinion, you definitely captured the canid mind-set. Also, I cried. I just kept imagining a sad brindle pitbull woman burying dead pitbull babies. Ruined my feels, but in a pleasant sort of way, like Old Yeller does to me.

[KaraC]

It's how I image the females are. Like pitties, they're velvet around a core of solid steel.

[Csquared08]

Huh. Interesting story you have here.

[Dragon Turtle]

This raises so many exciting questions! So in this universe, Alpha Bitch helped raise Luna? Is this the same Alpha in your DaPS Epilogue?

There are a few explanations, or lack thereof, in the actual text that could use a tune up, and the following are as much critiques as questions:

1) So the ponies cleared out a section of the forest to put in a graveyard. How long did that take? In terms of this story, when was the last time Alpha went to this location?

2) Luna's physical description.

She looked like that one pony whelp the three herds had been fighting about a couple of hundred years ago, the white one with the wings and the horn; except her fur was the colour of the midnight sky and her eyes were meant to see in the dark.

I may be an idiot, but all of this wasn't enough for me to be sure who this was.
A) Given the nature of pony models, and how details (or lack thereof) are interpreted in fan fiction, one could introduce Surprise as a character and say she "looks like" Pinkie, but with wings and different colors. An essential feature (or lack thereof) was glossed over: the horn. Not only is it never mentioned specifically, but wouldn't have Alpha Bitch felt it and made note of a bony nub while giving her that thorough tongue bath? Even if the foal is just a Pegasus, that doesn't disprove it's Luna either. There are many theories that Alicorns aren't born, but are a rank to achieve. The ascension of Twilight gives evidence to this.
B) This second thing had my mind going in circles. So this foal has "Dog-like eyes the colour of the brightest sapphires." The blue eyes are Luna's obviously. Luna, like other ponies, have eyes like humans. When it said “Dog-like,” I thought it meant that Alpha was projecting herself onto the foal, the same way IRL we might say an animal has “human-like” eyes. Then you say her eyes can see in the dark. What? For a moment, I though this foal might be one of the Thestral bat ponies(but then I was like, oh yeah, feathers). Again, I apologize if this is supposed to be obvious, but the idea of foal Nightmare Moon is very odd to me. The only time I’ve heard of the Luna’s true form being pitch black with monster eyes from infant to adult was in Aegis Shield’s “The Return of Princess Nightmare Moon,” and even that was labeled “Alternative Universe.”

3) What exactly IS the Alpha?

It was a long time before she could see again, long enough that the trees she’d taken shelter in were now casting large shadows into the field.

The Diamond Dogs were able to venture to the surface, and pop their heads in and out of the ground without any adverse effects. Why are the Alpha’s eyes so sensitive to light and take more time and effort to adjust? Is she so old that other subspecies of dogs have developed?

[KaraC]

2779353
Hey! Good to read from you again! Let's see if I can answer some of those questions, shall we?

1, 2A & 3) 'Written in Stone is meant to be a series of one-shots, it's their version of a history book. Each chapter is a different story. The eyes of Dogs now-a-days are a little more light-tolerant, but bright lights still hurt something fierce.

2A) 'The Barren Bitch' takes place about 3000 years ago, she's long dead and she was known as the Barren Alpha for so long her name was forgotten. I don't like AlicornTwilight, so in this world, alicorns are born, not ascended ponies. The scene in all italics is a dream sequence, like a semi lucid dream where you can't open your eyes (I have lots of these) I know what's going on around me, I sometimes know I'm dreaming, I can smell and touch and hear, but I can't see. I tried to impart that sensation.

2B) As for Luna's true form, it is like Aegis Shield's 'Return of Nightmare Moon'. I'm afraid that's all I can tell you without spoiling future chapters.