The Night is Passing

by Cynewulf

XV. Covering Earth in Forgetful Snow

XV. Covering Earth in Forgetful Snow

Spike sat in the Apple Family’s little parlor, eyes closed, and enjoyed the air of home.

He had not made his home out in the outskirts of Ponyville, and he had never spent as much time at the Acres as Twilight did. Yet, despite this, the fragments of their once vibrant life held enough nostalgia for nine families. The pictures which sat on the mantle and on every flat surface suitable for them were legion. Ponies smiled out at him, with hooves around each other, in great constellations, the young in each other’s embrace and the old playing chess in the shadows of apple trees. On the table sat a mug of cider, brought out especially for him by Apple Bloom, who insisted upon it. The Apple Family, in all of it’s facets and branches, had managed to arrive at Canterlot with several barrels of their world-famous cider. It was a well-guarded secret, one backed up by a spell of Twilight’s and Apple Family thriftiness.

He opened his eyes long enough to reach down and take a sip. It was, of course, hard cider. He’d expected as much, but t was still surprising to taste the burn of the alcohol on his tongue and down his throat. Applebloom no doubt assumed that he was quite grown up, and the idea made Spike smile. They had been peers once. He supposed they were still peers, in a way. He certainly didn’t think of Bloom as lesser than he. He had not spoken down to her as adults often had to him.

Apple Bloom came downstairs. Spike could tell from the creaks on the stairs alone, without need for his eyes. He had been paying attention to the world more, these days.

He thought perhaps that she might speak to him, but she did not. Maybe she paused upon the foot of the stair, but then he heard her hooves shuffle across the room towards the kitchen. For a moment, a brief moment, he thought about rising and following her, just to look for some conversation. Living, moving company. But he knew that at this moment he was not good company at all. It had been a bad few days.

His business had nothing to do with Applebloom, in that it was not with her that he had business. He supposed it was actually very wrapped up in her. Either way it would mean many things, and she was involved by simply breathing. Again, he considered mounting the stair. Spike thought perhaps that he would.

He took a long swig from the cider, and then shrugged and finished it. Why not? Why not do many things, really, even, with how the world was moving?

He wandered upstairs and found Applebloom leaning out of a doorway.

“Need somethin’?” she drawled.

“Eventually,” he answered. “So… don’t know when your brother will be back?”

“Nope.” She paused, as if something had occurred to her, and she looked away. “Actually, to be honest with you, I don’t know where he is.” She pursed her lips.

“That’s strange. I mean, from what I knew. I was just a kid, after all.”

“Ya were, weren’t ya?” Applebloom replied tonelessly. She kept looking back into what Spike assumed was her room. The hall was rather long. He thought that it had to be, to house all of the apples.

Applebloom grimaced and adjusted her bow. Spike thought that it had been straight before. She fixed her hair. She shifted against the doorway. In short, she did everything but continue the conversation.

But Spike had a lot of time, apparently, so he kept it alive. “It’s crazy to think we’re not that far off from each other, agewise.”

She glared at him. “Why? You think I’m just some dumb kid now, cause you went and had some fool growth spurt?”

“No, no,” he answered, holding up his hands in surrender. “Not at all. I’ve never thought you were dumb or just a kid. We’re friends,” he added lamely. “I just meant… I was smaller and stuff, when we would hang out.”

“Yeah, well, so was I.”

Spike sighed. “What did I do? Did I say something?”

Applebloom huffed and entered through the doorway.

Spike hesitated again. It had not been an invitation. At least, he didn’t think so. He was not one to keep on where he wasn’t wanted, but her hostility was inexplicable. Beyond that, it felt like a knife in each scaly foot, forcing him open a little more with each step, each word or glare.

He advanced, and stood in the doorway.

Inside, he found that there were four beds. Applebloom laid on the one farthest from the door, turned away from him. Her red bow lay useless on the floor, wilted and worn. Gingerly, he crept forward and collected it, handling it like an injured sparrow from the ground. In his unwieldy adolescent hands, he cradled it like a child. Had he noticed how old this ribbon was? He thought he had not. He thought, in fact, that it had been hoofed down the family line. It was a thing well loved. Spike looked up towards the treasure’s owner and watched her for a moment in puzzlement.

Spike noticed how she had changed. Her mane was like a forest, wild and curled, overgrown and now without anything to hold it back at all. Muscles rippled under her coat as she shifted to be more comfortable, moving the pillow about and fluffing it. Spike recalled that she’d just started really working on the farm when it had been abandoned. She was not a child anymore. Perhaps not in the way that he was no longer a child, for she was a pony, but in her own way. She was older than him, after all. She looked it. Had he ever noticed her before? Really, truly noticed and looked and didn’t just look but see?

He wanted to say something.

She said something instead. “You’ve always been clueless, Spike.”

“Yeah… I know.”

“See, an’ hearin’ you just agree with me make me so mad. Stand up for yourself. Somepony treats you like shit, then you tell ‘em not to.”

He blinked, shocked. “I didn’t know you cursed.”

“I lived on a farm.”

“Well, yeah, but…”

Applebloom shook with a quiet laughter. “You’re an idiot, Spike. Sit on the bed behind me.”

Quietly, he obeyed. The springs groaned under his weight, and he shied away from contact with her. The ribbon was still in his hand.

“Spike, gimme my ribbon.”

“How did you know I had it?”

“It’s the kind of cheesy heart-warming thing you do. I need to put it on the bedside table.”

Spike reached over without thinking and did so himself, placing the ribbon next to her lamp. “There you go,” he said, smiling, before he realized how he had draped himself over her. He straightened, feeling foolish.

“It’s alright,” she said. She had always read his thoughts. How had he forgotten? He had forgotten a lot of things, but none of them had ever felt like this.

“Sorry.”

“Said it was alright. I’m sorry I treated ya bad when you came in.”

“It’s okay.”

“Naw, but you’re sweet for sayin’ so.” She yawned. “School sucked today on top of you comin’ by, so it was kind of a double whammy.”

“I thought we were friends,” Spike said haltingly. “Why would me coming over be so bad?”

Applebloom sighed. “We are friends, Spike.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Yeah you do. Why are you here?”

Yes, he did get it. He simply hadn’t thought that she would. Idiot, he thought. Idiot. What did you think was gonna happen? Chat up Applebloom after being locked up in the palace for months? Go back to the way things were, being friends just like that? Think she wouldn’t mind you waltzing in, drinking her beer, chatting her up, and then recruiting another sibling to do the crown’s work?

Yes, he did understand her hostility, now. It still felt like it bled. “I guess I get it. I want to ask your brother something.”

“Ask him what?”

“I…”

She turned her head and he caught her eyes. They blazed with a fire he’d half-forgotten. “You tell me the truth right now, you big son of a gun. You know I always want the truth.”

“Yeah, I know,” he answered. “I want him to join me. I’m putting together a team to help Luna.”

“Joinin’ the guard?”

He shook his head. “Maybe officially, maybe not. But it’s not like that. It’s helping her deal with the Houses.”

“So you want my brother to be a thug? Hired muscle.”

He winced. “I didn’t--”

“Honesty.”

“I just wanted someone who was strong and who I trusted,” he said lamely. “I’m afraid, Bloom. I don’t really know what to do and your brother is the most dependable pony I know.”

“Y’all just want him to buck ponies for ya.”

“No,” Spike answered, more firm this time. “Bloom, I respect your brother, and I want somepony who I trust to be calm and levelheaded. I’m sure not.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That sure is true.” She scrutinized him a few seconds more, and then sighed. Her face softened. “He’s with his boyfriend. Caramel just got back from working a long shift at the hospital, so they’re taking a nap down the hall, on the right. Don’t go,” she added quickly. “Stay here.”

He stayed. “When were you gonna tell me?”

“I wasn’t, ‘till I talked to ya.”

“Applebloom…” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I really am. I shouldn’t do this to you. I can find someone else, someone calm and levelheaded.”

“You could find somepony honest,” she said quietly.

“I could,” he answered.

“I miss crusadin’,” Applebloom said. “I miss runnin’ around with you and Scoots and Sweetie Belle. You know Sweetie and I ain’t talked in days? Scoots an’ me just bum around the streets, an’ we talk a lot less. Kick cans down the alleys, talk about Rainbow and Applejack, and sometimes about you and sometimes about Sweetie Belle, and nothin’ is the same anymore.”

“I’m still around. She is, too. We’re all still safe.”

“We’re alive. Ain’t nopony who is safe. Not ever,” she said, and laid her head back down.

He was overcome with a desire to stroke her mane, but the thought made him feel wobbly. He stood. What was he now, a freak? A weirdo? They had been sweet for each other, hormones flying through the air, and he was an idiot for presuming even in a daydream. “I guess not,” he agreed. “But we are still alive. I’ll have time to come visit, and if you go find her, I know Sweetie Belle will want to talk. Rarity being gone is hitting her hard.”

“I know.”

“I saw her yesterday,” Spike said. “Briefly. Said she was lonely.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you?” Bloom mumbled.

“No. I just want you to know that she still cares. She’s still Sweetie Belle.”

“I miss my sister. I don’t wanna miss Mac too,” Applebloom said. She sat up and faced Spike. She looked at him with a square jaw and summoned all the fire she could. “You better not even come close to gettin’ him hurt, you hear me you overgrown purse?”

He chuckled, but then nodded. “Applebloom, if I think your brother is in too much danger, I’ll send him straight back to you. I promise. You won’t lose him. I’ll die before that happens.”

She flinched. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

He shrugged.

*

“You know what I’m gonna ask ya, right?” Big Mac said stiffly when Spike had finished his speech.

Spike sighed. “No, but I can guess. ‘Why me?’”

“Naw. How pressin’ is your need?” The stallion rumbled.

They sat in the kitchen. Macintosh sat at the other end of the table, digging into pancakes. Caramel hummed as he worked on another batch for Spike and himself, but Spike was becoming used to reading others when they tried to hide themselves. He suspected the humming was a bit louder than it needed to be, the activity more about avoiding Spike than helping him.

Macintosh seemed large even with Spike’s growth spurt. He suspected the perception was based less on size and more on presence. He was a bruiser’s body housing a quiet soul. Every room he entered was altered and heavier, as if all the ponies inside were merely moons orbiting him. He filled the sight. His voice’s tone was the timbre of an earthquake, and his footsteps were like boulders against the hardwood floor.

“My need?” Spike repeated.

“Yeah,” Macintosh said. He wasn’t going to elaborate.

“I… I don’t really know. I don’t know what we’ll be doing, so I can’t really guess very well. Anything I tell you will probably end up being wrong I don’t want to lie to you.”

“It ain’t lyin’ if you don’t mean it to be,” Mac replied.

“I guess. I guess my need’s great. I’m kind of on my own right now. I need someone I trust, who doesn’t have ties. Somepony who is dependable and who I know is honest. You’re that for me.”

Mac hummed. “You put a lot of faith in somepony you don’t know much about, Spike.” When he got no answer, Mac continued. “Tell me somethin’. Did you know Caramel and I had a thing?”

“We have a few things,” Caramel said as he returned with pancakes. He slid another bench up to the long breakfast table with his muzzle and sat on it. “Rather, ah--”

“Hush, hon,” Mac said not unkindly. “Don’t go kissin’ and tellin’.” Caramel giggled.

“No,” Spike confessed, averting his eyes to stare down at the food. He began to eat, glad for the distraction. He was prepared for a no. A no was something he could handle. If he had felt like he could have done so without being selfish or foolish… I would say no, if I were him, Spike thought.

“And why not?”

“I never asked,” the dragon mumbled. “I was a kid, and I’m only a teenager, really, and I don’t think about asking ponies about that thing when I don’t think of them as dating.”

“And you still think I’m trustworthy, even though ya only knew me as a child?”

Spike squirmed. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I can’t doubt everything I knew as a kid.” Spike shrugged, took a deep breath, and looked up. “I just can’t. I mean, yeah, I didn’t know much back then. The world was different, too. But I wasn’t wrong about everything. I wasn’t stupid. I knew back then that you were honest and loyal and you worked hard…” he faltered. Mac’s eyes did not change. They were a wall of ice, cooly waiting for him to finish his feeble attempt to scale them. Yet, he pressed on. “And I don’t know. I’d take someone who I know used to be trustworthy over ponies I don’t have anything at all to go on. I liked you. I didn’t have that many stallions around to attach to in Ponyville, like to really attach to, and you were one of them.”

Mac watched.

“Mac?” Caramel asked.

Those calm green eyes drifted over, and Spike too spared a look. Caramel had taken only a single bite. His nervous energy had doubled; it was more of a fidgeting dismay, now. Spike knew that he was beaten. Caramel would make his case, that most compelling of cases: stay home and love me. Mac would do it. It was the kind of pony he was. Family and loved ones were the world.

Spike didn’t blame him. He didn’t blame Caramel at all, either. It was what he had wanted of Twilight, but hadn’t said. He suspected they had all wanted that, one way or another. It hurt, and now the whole enterprise seemed to be dangling on a string, but he would move on. Already, he was preparing to be gracious in defeat.

“I think you should help him.”

Both Mac and Spike gaped at him in confusion.

“I do,” Caramel insisted. “I don’t want you to get hurt, and I don’t want you to do bad things, but I also know that it’s important. This is your chance to do something good, Mac. Maybe something really, really important.”

“But… it’s good stayin’ here,” Mac countered weakly, recovering.

“Yes. It is, isn’t it?” Caramel agreed, smiling. “And I love that you want to. It makes me happy. But the strong ponies are strong for a reason, Mac. You’re a strong pony--not just your body, but your heart and your mind. It’s why I love you. You were made for such a time as this. Spike needs you.” He leveled his gaze at Spike, and where the dragon expected to be measured and given an appraising look he found only something soft, something like compassion. He was unnerved. Caramel continued. “If it were anypony else, I wouldn’t be so sure. No other pony I would trust to understand what it is you’re asking this family and me… but you have Twilight, don’t you?”

Spike looked down. He had not thought about the risks he was asking anypony to undertake at all. He had not counted the weight upon the backs of the Apple clan, not until it had been far too late to turn back.

But he answered. “Yes.”

Yes. Yes, he did know now. He felt it like ice on his stomach.

“Then I trust you with Mac. Mac, the ponies in this town… I know you want to help. We’ve talked. You toss in your sleep.”

“But Bloom an’--” Macintosh started to protest, but his coltfriend shushed him.

“I’ll take care of her, you big lug. You know she likes me, and you know I love her. I’m not you, but I practically live here, so I can help.” He looked back to Spike. “And he’s probably going to be living here still mostly, right?”

Spike nodded. “As far as I know, at least to maintain appearances.”

Caramel licked the syrup off his lips just to be sure, leaned up, and kissed Big Mac on the cheek. “Then do me proud, got it?”

“I’ll try.”

CAPTAIN ICE STORM

Ice Storm was a pegasus, and so the howling winds of the Canter Mountains phased him very little. They tore at his golden mane and whistled through his polished armor, but their cold, icy claws could not find purchase in his coat and skin. The magic of his ancestors burned hot within him, and he liked it.

His outward countenance was relatively sober, however. He allowed himself at most brief and reflective smiles while outside the walls, and this was one of those times. The smile came like a cat slipping across the street from alley to alley, and like a sneaking cat it was gone again. It was not that he was harsh, or that he mistrusted such displays, but that he felt them out of place. He had no love for what the works of the battlefield.

Not that such things were certain, today.

Once again, he scanned the pass and the road. Once again, it was clear, but such things had ways of changing rather quickly, and for the worse. Snow fell, driven into the cracks in the mountain face, collecting on his wings. Gingerly, he shook them out.

Canterlot was not monolithic, as ponies often thought. At least, it was no longer so. The mountain road that led up to Canterlot continued on past it, with its windy heights overlooking the jewel of the world below, and eventually they came at last to this place. The old ponies had called it Morningvale, and had Earth ponies had built a mining town inside the face of the next mountain, Mt. Goldhoof, which they had left unnamed. Locals called the abandoned mine and it’s tunnels the Warrens, now, and the little village in the valley was simply Morningvale. New Canterlot stood proudly for all the world to see--the original fort had been here, not quite as visible, overlooking the village and the little valley below.

Ice Storm’s perch was atop the ruins of the original fort of Canterlot. From here, he had kept his watch with the Seventh Airborne and the Eighteenth Infantry, both Lunar regiments. It was odd for a Captain of the Sun’s guard to be over his Lunar counterparts, but the times were strange.

Sitting beside him was a young batpony. She was in all ways his opposite. Brightly, sprightly, female, dark as soot to counter his own snowy white, with hair purple as an emperor’s robe and a smile like the moon.

She spoke. “How long will you be up here, captain?”

“As long as there are ponies in Morningvale,” he answered briefly. “Or in Old Canterlot.”

“I meant the walls, sir.”

He glanced over at her. “Until my shift on them is accomplished, Lancer. As I recall, your shift was to finish earlier than this, Amaranth.”

“I don’t have much else to do, really,” she said, shrugging. “The Watch isn’t exactly in a prime place for time off. Figured I’d come and sit on the walls.”

He hummed quietly, and looked back at the valley.

“It’ll be covered in snow, soon,” Amaranth said, presently with a voice like song. She sang, some nights, when the winds were tame and the cold a bit more bearable. The fire would obscure her face, and all that was left was a song. “I’ll miss the view. It’s a pretty town. The whole valley is wonderful.”

“I appreciate it as well,” he said. His eyes did not waver.

“You know, sometimes I think you’re a little too serious.”

Ice Storm sighed. “We all should be dedicated equally to the defence of the helpless. It is what I want most, and so I take it very, very seriously. As should you.”

“I do.”

Confused, he furrowed his brow. “Then your statement confuses me. Do you not think I am doing only what I should?”

“I’m not talking about standing on the wall, silly.” She leaned against the cracked, overgrown ramparts and bothered the dried, dead vines. Her armor was leather, unlike his own, and covered with the pictographs and symbology of her tribe.

“Then what?”

“You never smile.”

“Duty has no room for mirth,” he countered.

“Wrong,” Amaranth said softly, leaning still but turning to look at him. Ice Storm pursed his lips. “Wrong,” she repeated. “See, the way I see it, duty is the best time for mirth.”

“I… don’t follow.”

“The best time to cheer people up is when everything is falling apart, Ice Storm.”

“Everything is not falling apart. Yet. Nor will it,” he added, a bit too firmly. “They haven’t tightened the noose yet.”

She smiled, even so. “But they will. And it’s okay to smile before they do.” He expected her to continue, but instead she looked back to the hamlet and the valley. “The noose is going to tighten soon. It could be any day now.”

“The last raider incursion was a week ago,” he replied, not sure if this was evidence against his wingmare or for her. “The Seventh haven’t spotted any opposing fliers…”

“The Seventh are loyal and terrible at their jobs,” the batpony groused, and spat over the wall. Ice Storm frowned, but id not comment. “I’d never tell any of them this to their face, but they’ve been missing a lot.”

“And you’ve seen more?”

“I can see in the dark,” she said shortly.

Ice Storm blinked. “I… had not considered that.”

“Most ponies don’t. We may not fly as fast you, featherhead, but we have our own talents.” She said it with a grin, but not without a tiny bit of edge. Ice Storm appreciated that edge. “But I have seen a few patrols on the other side.”

“And you’re only now saying this?” Ice Storm asked.

“I only was sure of enough to say anything last night,” she replied, sighing. “I should have risked looking unsure earlier, Captain. I apologize.”

“As long as you continue to learn. You’re a good soldier, Amaranth. I’m glad to have you as part of the Watch.”

“Aw, that’s actually pretty sweet of you,” she sang. “I guess you know that I’m not just goofing off now, though.”

He nodded and for once put his full attention on her. Her lips pouted, her eyes danced. As she shifted her weight, her hips swayed and he wondered briefly if it were intentional. It was puzzling. If anything, she seemed excited, which was doubly odd.

“You seem to have more to say.”

“I want you to go flying with me.”

Ice Storm blinked. “Pardon?”

“Flying. With me. Two ponies. Nyoom, through the air,” she said, as if to a simpleton, gesturing with her hooves.

Ice Storm rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant. Whatever for, Lancer?”

“Oh, you know! The love of flying, the thrill of the wind against your face,” she lowered her voice, “the raider encampment on the slope that wasn’t there two days ago. That sort of thing.”

“A new one?” he asked, taken aback. “But… Surely not. We would have seen them setting up.”

“It was there last time I did a flyover. They weren’t even trying to be that subtle about it, to be honest. A few fires, a lot of movement.”

Ice Storm looked back to the valley, and to the mountains that surrounded them all. If it was true, then Morningvale was in danger. It had always been in danger, of course, ever since this whole mess began…

He growled. “Let’s go.”

“Need to wait a bit first,” Amaranth replied. “Just a few more hours, and we’ll have plenty of night time. I know you can’t see in the dark, but I have something I think might help. I’ll need a bit to work on it, though. Meet you at the top of the central spire in three hours?”

Ice Storm nodded. “Yes. I will be there, you have my word.”

*

The Captain was always true to his word. He had always striven to be as punctual and as precise as a finetuned instrument, in-tune with the needs of the world and his own spirit.

Old Canterlot, also called Castle Watch, was a ruin. Still, despite the wear of years and neglect, the basic layout was much the same as it had been in the old days. The new barracks, below the eastern and western walls, had been built over the previous structures. The modest citadel no longer was the throneroom of a petty king and his nascent country, but instead housed the Captain and the staff of the two attached regiments, as well as the actual Mountain Watch themselves. It stretched up from the mountainside in a single tower with a winding, nerve-wracking staircase and on top sat a simple flagpole and a box. There were four torches atop the tower, burning bright against the all consuming night, which cast the pegasus Captain in a ghostly half-light as a shade, and the wooden box was in shadow. The box was Ice Storm’s, and not a soul dared to touch it.

He did not lean against the ramparts. He looked over them, yes, but he would not slouch. I may be off duty, he thought grimly, but I will need to be alert. I pray that she is mistaken.

And he had prayed, though this was secret. His mother had held fast to the old Supernalism, treating the sisters as avatars of the Song, and thus in their own way, Gods. He had prayed to Luna--it was night, after all--twice before ascending the stair.

Amaranth arrived suddenly. The flapping of wings and the shadowy blur of her body was the only warning before she had landed beside him. He flinched.

“Heya, Cap,” she said, catching her breath. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting. Was having a bit of trouble.”

“It’s alright. It’s dark enough, at any rate,” he said. He eyed her, surprised to see no armor.

“You’re in full gear,” she noted, as if on cue. She laughed softly. “Always prepared, huh?”

“Should I discard it?”

She nodded. “Leave it here. Fly like the moon wanted you to, Cap. We’ll be quieter that way, and if we need to make a run for it you won’t be as tired.”

He hesitated. It seemed simple and reasonable enough. The flight was meant to be a stealthy surveyal, after all. Yet he hesitated all the same.

Amaranth sighed. “I promise you’ll be fine, Cap. I swear it.”

“It’s not your word I doubt, Lancer,” he said, perhaps a bit too sullenly. He undid the clasps on his armor one by one, awkwardly fumbling a bit in the dark, and then armor fell to the floor, clanging against the ancient stone. He winced at the harsh sound, but Amaranth shivered violently.

“Better hearing,” she said,her ears flat against her skull. “Hurts like hell.”

“I’m sorry,” Ice Storm said, frowning. “I… didn’t know.” He was finding out just how ignorant he truly was about ponies under his command. It galled him. A captain, especially a captain with so small a unit under his direct command, had no excuse for not knowing such things. Most of him wanted to apologize, but now was not the time. “Shall we go, then?” he said instead.

“Not quite.” As she knelt, he saw that she had a small saddlebag on her. Gingerly, she lifted out a small glass vial and set it on the stone. Puffing her chest out, she said, “This is made from moonflowers. It’s usually actually a pretty terrible idea to eat them, by the way,” she said as Ice Storm approached and picked it up gingerly, cradling it in his hooves. The liquid inside was a light blue, and glowed like a tiny star.

“Yet this is safe? How terrible do you mean?”

“Oh, you know. Hallucinations, the chills, lots of crazy stuff. It’s a really terrible time. Trust me,” she said again. “But our tribe has a recipe that uses them with a few other things to make a potion for darksight. It won’t make you sick, sir. I’ve been making them for friends who I wanted to fly with at night for a long time.”

“And this will allow me to see in the dark as you do?” he asked, looking down at the bottle.

“Yes sir.”

“Well. Let us see then,” Ice Storm said, and downed the mixture in a single gulp. It tasted awful, with all the burn of hard liquor and none of the taste, like breathing in burning and freezing sludge. He gagged, struggling to keep it down.

Amaranth was beside him as he began to gag. His eyes watered. His face and then his body felt like they burned, burned and there was no way to stop it.

And then, almost as quickly as it had come, the agony stopped. He stood panting, his legs spread and wobbly, but still straight. It was astounding, really, how quickly his calm and professional demeanor was washed away, like sandcastles at the beach.

“I… I’m sorry, I forgot how bad it is the first time,” Amaranth squeaked. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s… it’s fine, Lancer,” he said, struggling a bit to return to his normal tones. With that, as if to prove that he was indeed alright, he looked up.

The night was alive. As far as he could see, the land was illuminated in blues like a painting. He could make out the outlines of all of the castle’s structures, the scattered pines below, the dirt path leading back towards the Iron Gate and Canterlot. Morningvale was a painting bathed in starlight. He thought he had understood what the words “starlight” and “moonlight” meant, but before he had seen them as through a mirror, and but darkly. Now he saw them face to face, the silver radiance of a painting, the luminescence of a Goddess, and without thought he kissed his hoof to the moon.

Amaranth almost flinched. “You’re a…?”

“My mother,” he said quietly. “This… this is astounding. I can see everything. The stars--Goddesses Divine, the stars! They shine all the brighter. This is how you see things in the night?”

She nodded.

And Ice Storm grinned without restraint. “Marvelous. Now, lead me on. I wish to see what can be seen.”

They took to the sky with the grace of their two tribes, and mocked the low blowing wind with their speed. Amaranth flew in front, and Ice Storm fell in on her right flank, keeping close to ride in the current of air she left behind. Below them the valley passed quickly, towering pines and fields and little dirt paths. The little lake by the woods was already beginning to freeze, Ice Storm saw as they soared over it. Snow gathered in clumps here and there, and soon it would cover everything. It was all a month too early.

But they left Morningvale and the woods and the valley behind, and came back to hard, jagged rocks and crags. The Warrens were ahead of them and the slopes on either side. In the distance, the piercing peaks of the mountains were shrouded in pregnant clouds, storehouses of snow. More, then. He was prepared for it. A pegasus feared no weather that he could master or endure.

And then Amaranth banked right, and he followed her without thought, on pure instinct. Pegasi learn Follow-the-Leader as a tactic early in their training, though few did it as well as the Wonderbolts who perfected it. But he had learned to focus only on the lead pony, and with some effort he tore his eyes from the terrain below and gave Amaranth his full attention. As she corrected her course, so did he. As she slowed, so did he, until the wind was faster than they, and the buffeted at him as the oncoming storm rolled in.

At last, Amaranth pulled up, and they both struggled to stay hovering in one spot like ships on the deep sea.

“I’m not seeing campfires,” she shouted.

He looked, and saw nothing but crags. “Are you sure? Could they be wanderers?”

“Moving through the noose?”

He grunted. On second thought, it was ridiculous. “Shall we go lower?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No! Dangerous.”

“Keep going,” he shouted back. “Have plenty of time.”

They continued, circling over the southern slopes, and now he did look down. Between every jutting rock and in every depression and crack he looked for the tell-tale signs of an encampment, but found nothing.

Time passed strangely and frustratingly. His wings grew sore, and his head pounded. His hearing was shot, all static and ringing.

He wanted to give up. He did not doubt Amaranth in the slightest, but the encampment was gone. Perhaps she’d been mistaken. Perhaps they had been mistaken, and pulled up stakes once they realized their danger. Anything was possible, at this point. If anything, he was relieved to not find signs of encroachment this close to the valley. No foe had ever taken Canterlot in a half a dozen sieges, and it was in no small part thanks to the fact that none of them had been aware of just how flimsy the defenses behind the mountain were. Even with the advantage of the terrain, the castle was a wreck and the Iron Gate was half rusted. A focused, organized (or at least numerous) push would overrun everything, and he feared that the raiders knew it.

But this was good. They were not risking being caught. Obviously, they still respected the might of the Castle Watch, regardless.

He thought this until Amaranth pulled him up short, sending them tumbling in midair for a moment. Before he could ask what on earth she meant by it, the mare shushed him and pointed down below.

Finally, he saw it.

He had been prepared for a campfire. Three campfires. An encampment of thirty or forty ponies. What he saw was enough fires to keep two hundred strong warm and content. He saw them now, a few huddled bodies like ants around tiny distant stars. Their tents were well hidden, but he saw them all now, saw their number. His jaw went slack.

Two hundred. At least.

Amaranth was saying something, but the wind drowned it out. For his part, Ice Storm could say nothing.

The noose around Canterlot was tightening faster than anyone had thought. This would be the first encampment of many, he knew that. They would be coming in droves now. There were not enough ponies in the valley to make a show of strength, not with so many and not in this terrain. Their comrades would become bold.

They were going to lose the village. More than that, Ice Storm knew in a heartbeat that the noose was going to be drawn tight around all their necks, and there was little he could do to stop it.

Comments

[Willsons]

A noose closing ever tighter, that's a perfect description of what is happening.

[justwannaread]

So the Raiders are organizing to what possible end, what can their end plan look like, attacking Canterlot hopefully beat the defending army and pray not to rouse the anger of the goddess sleeping within yet all their lives be forfeit.

[Esle Ynopemos]

From the title, I thought this was going to be more about Team Flaridash in the north. But nope, it's about adding yet one more front on which to make life miserable for everyone left back in Canterlot. And winter is coming. At this rate, there may not be anything left for the Mane Six to bring help back to.

[q97randomguy]

Unrequited Apple BloomXSpike? That vibe is very strong. And if so, I approve.

“Duty has no room for mirth,” he countered.

This line is golden.

“Flying. With me. Two ponies. Nyoom, through the air,” she said, as if to a simpleton, gesturing with her hooves.

*dies

[ponygrad]

This is the only non-mature fic where I feel like any two characters can start doing it at any moment. I'm really digging the pacing of act 2 now that I'm not dreading the rarity chapters.

[FloydienSlip]

Hooo boy...

Incidentally, this bit was interesting:

Amaranth almost flinched. “You’re a…?”
“My mother,” he said quietly.

Not sure what to make of that yet, besides the fact that Amaranth immediately recognized Ice Storm's gesture towards the moon as indicative of... something. I wonder if it will be important later.

[Cynewulf]

6494448 if I manage to write the bat horse fic I started writing in the New Zealand bush, I'll finally be able to talk about the baggage Batponies have about Celestialism in Equestria

[Ice Star]

Ah, these two - I recall the different versions of them in another story.

I totally ship it.