> Our Lives, Our World
>  by maddox078
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue: Hayfield
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The name “Hayfield” doesn’t exactly strike anyone with excitement, wonder, or any other enticing feelings.  That’s because Hayfield is just your run of the mill town, settled by all walks of life 40 miles southwest of Ponyville.  It’s a town run mostly by agriculture, and has remained untouched by the cultural ripples of modern technologies, however few they may be.  Most roads, save for Main Street, are simple but well maintained dirt pathways.  They crisscross at apathetic angles, lazily guiding ponies to their destination with as much nonexistent haste as its travelers have.  The buildings are all either simple cottages with thatched roofs or wood-paneled ranch homes, but still allow a certain grace to themselves.  

It’s a quiet town, for sure, but it’s also been my home for as long as I can remember.  Sure, I’ve lived briefly in other, even smaller towns, but 17 of my 20 years have been spent here.  

The sun’s shining brightly today, making blinding crystals that dance on the ripples of Angel Lake.  The air is a bit warmer than what I’d like, but is carried on a firm breeze in amends.  

It’s good having an excuse to be out on such a bright day, one that ushers all folks from their homes and out into the glory of the goddess’ sun.  As I make my way down one of the larger dirt roads in town, I allow a polite nod to those whom I pass on the street, none seeming all too busy today.  Everyone’s usually pretty happy here, and so am I, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve realized my need to explore.

Not much happens in a town of less than a thousand, within a year you’ll likely see all the faces these fields and homes hold.  They’re amicable, no doubt about it, but now that I’ve aged and finished with all my schooling I want to learn what can’t be held in words.  Ponykind has a wide vocabulary, but I seek knowledge in my heart, what words can’t explain.  I want to witness the beauty of my world and know more than just these thousand faces.





It’s 11 A.M. and I’ve only just got up.  I jumped on, well rather slothed about, upon the idea of having no work today.  Being a shelf-stocker in a general store isn’t particularly interesting.  What makes it all worth-while is my boss, Alexander Hoofington.  A stallion of his mid-fifties, with the brain of a youthful scholar, he’s one of my dearest friends in town. 

As I walk across the street and through the trees along the middle, I catch a glimpse of Alexander through the shop’s open doors.  He’s behind the counter, rummaging through the space underneath.  

Moments later he sees me and greets me with a big hello as I walk into cozy shop.

“Ah Dusk, what brings you over here?  Aren’t you supposed to be packing for your big trip?”

A smile crawls upon my lips as I walk up to hug him in greeting.

“I’ve packed all of my things already, but I’ve still got some baggage to deal with.”

He nods then walks the two of us over to an old wooden table with a set of equally worn chairs.  Once seated across from me, he puts his chin on his hooves in attention.  I continue on.

“What I mean is, I need to say my goodbyes to everyone here.  I’m not saying anything bad will happen while I’m gone, but-“

“But you’re not a stallion to chance such things.”

“Heh, right, I just want to have a chance to say goodbye in case I don’t get any others in the future.  But I mostly just have something I need to tell you.”

An indiscernible look appears upon his face, but he remains in silence, coaxing me on.

“You know how grateful I've been of all the work you've given me, and how much you’ve been there for me over all these years.”

He smiles shyly and shifts his eyes away from mine.

“Ever since my dad….ever since my dad died shortly after we moved here you’ve been the father that fate has taken from me.  You’ve helped me learn, mature, and teach others about the vast wisdoms you’ve shared with me.  It was lonely at first, just mother and I in that cabin on the lake, too big for two people.  But you found me that one night, on a makeshift raft staring up at the stars.  I told you how I could hear a soft song emanating from them; it was angelic, and boasted a wide array of tones and voices.  After sitting there captivated by the song for nearly half an hour, I felt a twinge of heat on my flanks and noticed my cutie mark had appeared.  In my excitement I fell off the raft and panicked from the shock of the cold autumn waters.  You heard me from your porch and paddled all the way out there to bring me back to shore.  You’ve saved me many more times since then, and I won’t forget a single one of them.”

Alexander subtly bit his lip and closed his eyes hard for a moment.  When he looked back up, my reflection showed upon his glistening eyes.  The tears startled me at first, but I soon saw the bittersweet look upon his grey, aging face speak the gratitude to me that his own words could not.

He reached across the table and hugged me tight, before silently whispering, “I love you, son.”

Five years of well-wishes and encouragement from that stallion, and none of it came close to the value I placed those four, near inaudible words.





It was hard walking out of that dusty old shop and throwing out a last good-bye, but I had to stay positive, this was a beginning after all, not an end.  

I made my rounds to all corners of the town to say my goodbyes, from old school friends, to relatives I didn’t really know that well but who always seemed to know me.  Everyone in town knew of my leaving, and many kids these days were packing up and heading out to bigger towns with more prospects.  However, it was always a big deal for such a small community to lose even one person.  

The last stop, and one I was to enjoy the most, was to my fellow pegasus friend’s hillside abode.  We’d been inseparable since we met nearly ten years ago, after I moved back here in elementary school.  I prepared myself for yet another difficult farewell.  

Even a quarter mile away I could see her tending to a set of hanging gardens she had along her house and the steep hills it was built into.  I made it to the porch before her tan ears perked up and she whipped around with a big smile.  She energetically dove down into a rather aggressive hug which uprooted me from my stance.  As the ground said its farewells to me, I felt her uncanny strength pulling me in.

“Dusk!  So good to see you.  Surely you’re not already leaving right?”

Her face fell as she realized why I was here, for one last time.

“Afraid so June, but it’s not a guarantee that I’ll stay away forever.  You’re not THAT repulsive.”

She hit me on the arm with once again unprecedented strength for a female pegasus.

“You can’t refrain from being a butt even now?  After I was so nice to you?”

I rubbed the offending spot on my shoulder as I continued, “Crushing my spine in a bear hug to keep me from leaving is hardly considered ‘nice.’”

She gave me a playful smirk and another quick hug.

“Boy I guess you DO know me pretty well, huh?”

“You’re as predictable as the rest of this town.”

At that she looked off down the steep hill and at the sparse collection of shops and homes below, leaving her long auburn mane to face me.

“I guess that’s why ya gotta leave huh?  Nothing really does change here…but that’s how some of us like it, you know?  The simple pleasures of life and all of its wonders are enough for many.”

Her thoughtful look never faltered.

“I understand, and you know that I feel similarly, but it’s never a bad idea to expand your life.  There’s more than just the horizon, the whole world lies just beyond it.  There’s much I want to know, much I want to see, things that just can’t be found here.  Not better, not worse, just...different.”

June seemed to copy Alexander’s bittersweet expression as she reached over to me to satiate her hug addiction.  Someone really ought to stage an intervention with that mare.

She remained silent, still looking out over all that is Hayfield.  A good few minutes passed with no other sounds than the elevated breeze that was trying to climb its way up the hill, combing through the array of velvety flowers hung about.

“I understand completely Dusk, and I’d never stop you.  Just, be sure to write ok? Please?”

Her face fell in concern, concern that I wouldn’t be who I’ve been for nearly half our lives, her best friend.

“Of course I will, I’ll send a postcard from every town I see.”

A gasp escaped her as an epiphany struck and she excused herself to quickly dash inside.  My head half followed her retreat until she returned only moments later with a camera under her wing.

“I don’t care about getting some cheaply printed photo in the mail, I want you to take this and make your OWN photos and memories.  Then, send them back here to little ol’ miss unadventurous.”

She transferred the camera from her wing to mine and leaned in to give me one last gift, a small peck on the cheek.

“I’ll come find you if I don’t see any photos of the great wild wonders of Equestria sitting on my fridge in two weeks’ time.  And if you thought that hug was rough, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

My smile grew to the largest it had been, a slight blush still filling my cheeks as I hugged her one last time and turned away from her to walk down the hill for what I truly hoped was not the last time.





Angel Lake is one of the bigger lakes in the region, stretching almost past the horizon in some spots.  Many ponies have made their homes along the gentle sands and the shading pines and cedars.  My home lies at the edge of the lake closest to town, not far from Alexander’s.  The bright, white, wooden structure came clearly into view.  I walked up the small porch and threw open the screen door.  I noticed a figure sitting in the corner chair to my left, amongst a few bags scattered on the floor of the somewhat rustic living room.  My mother sat reading a book, patiently waiting for me to finish my rounds of goodbye’s before she said her own.  As soon as she saw me, a familiar pained expression showed up among her features, in her dark blue eyes, and in her brows buried under the bangs of her yellow mane as she looked up from her book and saw me.

She got up from her chair, and closed her book without paying any mind to where she was and approached me.  She looked me over from head to toe, as if seeing me for the first, and not the last time.

“Son, I want you to know that I’m proud of your courage to make such a journey, to fight for yourself.  Life here in Hayfield…it hasn’t always been easy,” her face fell at the memory of her lost love, “but you’ve always fought for me, working to keep us afloat and in this nice house in a good town.”

She briefly looked away, her eyes disappearing behind the charcoal fur of her eyelids as she composed herself.

“I’ll be fine on my own, you know that, but I’ll miss the company most of all.  I know you’ll visit, and if not, I’ll get your strong pegasus friend to come bring you back forcefully.”

She smiled at her own comic relief as she looked back up at me.

“Threat’s already been made, accounted for, and feared mom.  Don’t worry,” I moved my hoof up to her shoulder, “I’ll be back soon enough, and maybe I’ll have even learned some new exotic dish to make for a return dinner for you and Mr. and Mrs. Hoofington.”

She didn’t say another word, just reached down to grab my bags and gently lay their bulk across my back.  I straightened up with the added weight and tossed the camera up on top, resting loosely inside of my clothes bag.

Silence again prevailed as I turned around and headed for that old screen door, not feeling the extra weight on my back, but in my chest.  I turned around as I reached the end of the wooden porch that dug into the sands of the lake.  

One last hug.

“I love you, son.”

With my heart weighing heavy, I left my prints in the sand as I walked away to a gradually setting sun.












> Chapter 1: Shaman of the Hills
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a few miles on the road I became immensely grateful that I’d made my departure in the evening, not just because I got to say goodbye to my loved ones right before I left, but also because the heat had died down tremendously.  Twilight was already falling and the sun set the horizon in a vibrant blaze through the spectrum.  Various bugs chirped and buzzed in the evening light along the flowery plains surrounding the only road out of town.  My hoofsteps fell heavy in predominant silence, but never made me feel lonely, as the stars soon began to peek out onto the world from their swirling, ethereal home up high.  A sigh of contentment escaped my lips and I continued to think of nothing in particular, simply trying to enjoy a silent symphony from the stars above, and the songs of the various fauna below.

After I’d passed what seemed to be about four hours on the road, I decided I should set up my tent and get to sleep so I’d be at least somewhat ready to trudge through the heat tomorrow.  I was about at the halfway point to Ponyville, my first destination, maybe a little less though. 

After the events that happened there with Nightmare Moon and the Elements of Harmony, as well as all the other odd mishaps that town has seen, Ponyville has experienced a significant rise in tourism.  But, my journey isn’t about being some tourist, only wanting to see the shallow beauty of the city, I want to live it.

After picking out a small clearing amongst a dozen or so trees off the West side of the road, I began to set up my tent.  I was never much one for camping, but this felt different.  This was a journey, I was living the stories like those of the characters in the various books I’d read over the years.  Life felt vibrant and bold at that moment, as I hammered in the last of the tent’s stakes and lit a small lantern out in the graceful wilderness.  I pulled a few apples out of my food bag and sat there and ate under the heavy branches of a nearby Oak tree.  I wasn’t very hungry, but mostly wanted a reason to stay up a little longer and listen to the stars.  As I grew increasingly tired and my hooves became unable to support my drooping head from the cool dirt, I thought I heard a familiar song again.  The stars seemed a bit brighter for a brief moment, and I felt a sensation prickling in my veins, a chill that seemed to say: “watch out.”





I awoke less than an hour after falling asleep in my tent to a rather unpleasant sensation.  It took a few seconds to clear my head and comprehend it all, and when I did I realized the entire right side of my coat was soaked.

It was then that I started to hear the heavy drops falling on and around my canvas cocoon, and a distant rumble of thunder. 

There was a brief flash of lightning and an indiscernible silhouette conformed to the left wall of the tent.

Before I had time to make it out, it vanished.  I tried to play it off as nothing and figure out what I was to do about the worst bed-wetting experience I’d had in more than a decade.  I decided I might find reprieve amongst the denser patch of trees behind me.

I retrieved my raincoat from one of my bags, which were all thankfully waterproof, and slipped it on before sticking my head out into a stinging wall of tiny liquid daggers propelled by a blistering wind.  I simply sat there for a couple minutes, taking my abuse from the weather, until I finally mustered up the willpower to gather my bags and pack up the tent.

I’d just about had everything cleaned up and ready to be moved to dry shelter, when another flash of lightning projected the same shadow from before onto the tree in front of me.

Panicked, I quickly spun around to see a cloaked figure with glowing eyes looming over me.  I couldn’t see much of the creature, but it seemed to be at least part equine.  I dropped three of the four tent stakes I held in my mouth, and brandished the remaining one at the figure before me.

A few tense seconds passed before the creature gave a low and gentle laugh.  But, it wasn’t sinister, it sounded almost genuine.

Scared, tired, and soaked, I decided I didn’t want to play games anymore.

“Who are you?” I demanded, trying to keep my voice over the exploding droplets of water punching holes in the ground at my hooves.

“You ask, ‘who am I,’ and I shall tell you no lie.  

I am Saltus, shaman of the hills.

But we must hurry out of here, for this storm aims to kill.”

The creature’s odd manner of speaking caught me off guard, but I soon remembered hearing it before from the zebras that lived in Hayfield.

The shaman didn’t allow me time to my thoughts before he began trotting past me and off towards the mountains a quarter mile behind my campsite.  I realized he hadn’t hurt me yet, so that was good.  He also seemed to be warning me of the storm, a little late for that.  At any rate, I assumed he had a warm and dry place to call home so I hurriedly gathered up the dropped stakes and followed a little ways behind.





After ten soaking minutes, we arrived at the base of one of a half-dozen peaks clustered together, stretching out for a couple miles in every direction.  I dropped my jaw as I took my first step into the thicket of trees marking the beginning of our ascent.

Inside the forest was a world all its own.  Cool, wispy clouds hung listlessly among the wet, glistening branches of the trees, seemingly making a second layer of foliage.  Inside the fog I could see the soft, golden lights of fireflies peacefully pulsing, and gently refracting amongst the millions of droplets of water in the saturated atmosphere.

At first there were only about a dozen, but every few minutes there would be at least a hundred of them dancing playfully in the nocturnal mist.

It was a dance I’d seen hundreds of times before, in the now obscured stars above.  The creatures of this dense forest never get to see those stars, but they still made their own down here.

Saltus turned towards me for the first time since our first uncomfortable encounter, his yellow eyes making a similar glow.  He slowly removed the hood of his cloak from his head and revealed that I was indeed correct.  The shaman was a zebra, looking to be a few years or so younger than Alexander.

He then shut his eyes in a blink much harder than normal.  Upon opening his eyes again I noticed they had lost their luminescence.  He saw my shocked expression and began explaining very matter-of-factly.

“There’s a recipe from my tribe that I know,

One that in the dark makes one’s eyes glow.

A brew that gives one perfect sight,

Even on the darkest night.”

This didn’t surprise me; zebras are very well known for their vast array of potent magical brews.  After I let my awe at the recent spectacle and my current surroundings die down, certain questions began popping up in my head.

“Listen, um, Saltus was it?” He gave a gentle nod of his head.  “I am grateful that you found me and have offered me refuge, but how exactly did you find me?”

He chuckled lowly as he shut his eyes, breathing in before giving his response.

“I can see by your cutie mark

That you have an affinity to the dark.

It is that which befuddles me,

Did Luna’s warning you not see?”

His words confused me for a moment.  It wouldn’t be hard to guess that I have a thing for the night judging from my cutie mark, a tight cluster of stars that roughly form an eighth note on overlapping splashes of black and purple.  However, if I understood what he was saying, was he inferring that he can also understand the hidden messages of the night sky?

“You mean, you can also ‘understand’ the stars?  You can hear the songs they sometimes sing and the words they wordlessly speak?”

He nodded silently.  Something suddenly clicked in the back of my mind; I remembered faintly hearing them say something before I nodded off.  What was it?  Wait, it was….

Watch out.

I began to see that Saltus was likely telling the truth; how else could he have known there would be danger outside of this endlessly dense forest?  I soon also began to contemplate the possibility of others sharing my special talent.  It didn’t make me feel any less special, if anything, it made me feel less alone.  

“Luna warned of a phenomenal storm,

That was far greater than the norm.

An unexpected monster from the Everfree,

Of which one’s only option is to flee.”

Unexpected was right, I’d checked with all of the pegasi in town about the weather for today almost a month in advance.  There was definitely no storm on schedule for today.  It didn’t surprise me that it’d come from a place like the Everfree Forest though, I’d heard haunting tales of how nature recklessly conducted itself in there.

“You may ask me all the questions you’d like,

But only after we finish our hike.

I’d like to quickly get to my home,

If you’d still like to come.”

Saltus seemed to be a bit more amiable now that he saw I was safe.  I gave him a warm smile in gratitude before answering him.

“I’d be honored Saltus.  It’s certainly not as if I’ve anywhere better to be,” I gave an exasperated chuckle.

He too, smiled and nodded as he turned back around and began following the beaten path ahead of us, up the winding hills and deeper into the opaque forest.  I began to finally feel at ease with my current situation, and once again began following my mysterious savior.





The rest of our ascent was quiet, save for the distant roar of thunder and drops of water falling softly from the trees.  Small rivers began carving out the moist earth as more rain kept falling and gravity pulled it down the increasingly steep hills, leaving small pools amongst flatter parts of land and mossy rock.

After about thirty minutes of hiking through the serenade of the storm, (and lots of mud,) the trunk of a once enormous tree halfway buried in the hillside came into view.  A spectacle all its own, it became thoroughly more interesting as I noticed the lights coming from within and deduced that my new acquaintance must live inside.

The zebra pushed open the front door and politely motioned for me to go ahead of him.  The interior was of course all wood, softly lit by various decorative candle lanterns around the main room, complimented by the faint smell of cinnamon.  There was a small kitchen nook to the right, bordering the extent of the main room.  Beyond that was a single door built into the far wall, and a small closet to the left of it.

“My home to you I hope is a pleasant sight,

In which you are welcome to spend the night.”

Another grateful smile crept upon my lips.  “It certainly is beautiful,” I spoke as I tracked my head across the expanse of the room.  “But I can’t impose on you; you did enough saving me from the storm as it is.  I wouldn’t feel right if I did, so if it’s alright I’d just like to dry off a bit and then I’ll pitch my tent outside.”

A confused and slightly annoyed look came upon the shaman’s face.

“My offer to you was not optional,

My statement was only rhetorical.”

I laughed at the combined effect of his expression and hearing another one of his clever rhymes.  I nodded my head and agreed as I saw him begin to smile in relief.  I really didn’t like imposing on him; it wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, but staying in someone’s house after meeting them so soon and….unpleasantly didn’t seem fair.

I aimed to rectify that, to find any way that I could help him out and earn my keep.  Saltus closed the door behind us and casually made his way to a cauldron in the kitchen area.  He looked down into it disappointedly for a moment before shaking his head.

“Uh, is something wrong?” I asked Saltus with a bit of awkward trepidation.  

“In my haste to rescue you,

I’m now left with coagulated brew.”

My face fell and I briefly looked away as I felt more guilt at causing this kind stranger distress.  But as soon as it fell, my face brightened right back up when I saw a chance to pay him back.

“Well what if I helped you make a new batch?”

Saltus shook his head again in disdain.

“While your offer is very kind,

I’d need more ingredients,

And these ingredients are hard to find.”

Now it was my turn to refuse a refusal.  “I won’t accept that answer, surely you originally got them from around this forest, so I should be able to find more around here too, right?”

The zebra pondered the notion for a moment, clearly heavy in debate over allowing me to go through with the favor.  Eventually he closed the eyes on his hung head and smiled as he spoke to me.

“A list I shall give you to help you see,

Where all of these hidden ingredients may be.”





The old wooden door of Saltus’ home creaked as it shut behind me and I walked back out into the storm fighting its way through the trees.  My host had been kind enough to supply me with a specially treated cloth cloak similar to his own that repelled water with marvelous effects.

I always did love the rain; the way it closes off the world around you and makes everything seem smaller.  The curtain of water surrounding you coupled with its steady patter on the dark earth below always felt like a faint embrace, even though you there was only ever you.

After taking a few deep breaths of the cool, moist, night air, I reached into one of the twin saddlebags I had been given and pulled out a map showing me to the three ingredients Saltus needed.  I noted, to a small degree of dismay, that his writing didn’t have the same rhyming effect as his spoken words.  It reminded me of how I’d always wanted to ask a Zebra a question about oranges to watch them struggle with a rhyme to make, but tonight just didn’t feel like the right time to do that.

The first thing on the list didn’t leave me with much of a commute; Saltus needed fifty of the fireflies I’d seen earlier.  When he first made the request I was a little concerned with how arduous such a task might be, but he silenced my doubts and handed me a small vial that he said would attract them.

I walked over to where a large group now hung silently in the air, wrapped around the trees as if they were ivy snaking to the top.  I reached into the other saddlebag and produced the vial he’d given me.  I didn’t much care to see what the spinach-green elixir he gave me would taste like, so I simply popped the cork off the top and chugged the whole thing without taking a single breath.

At first, nothing happened.  But soon I felt a warming sensation like from a spicy food, but in the back of my eyes.  The sensation grew too strong and forced me to shut my eyes, but once I opened them again I realized I could see much more clearly through the dark forest.  I raised a hoof up away from my face and noted a gentle yellow glow reflected off of it.

I became elated at my newly acquired super-power as I reached back into the bag to get the jar I was intended to trap the fireflies in.  Once I had the object firmly grasped in my right wing, I looked back up to see an entire cloud of tiny flying lanterns surrounding me.

I couldn’t see even a leg’s length ahead of myself, and I had to try hard to not breathe in a mouthful of the little guys.  There were so many I couldn’t count; the endless collection of them making a miniature sun under the eternal shade of the canopy.  After a minute or so of staring at them, I remembered my mission and gently moved the glass jar in an arc from my side and out to the end of my snout.  The living lights made no effort to evade their capture, still as mesmerized at my glowing eyes as I was from their own brilliance.  I put the lid on the jar and held it up in front of me.  A smile of child-like wonder adorned my face at the sight of dozens upon dozens of tiny, flying Hearth’s Warming lights confined into one small space.  

I gently replaced the jar in the saddlebag I’d originally acquired it from and fetched the map at the same time.  After studying the location for my next item, a strange color-shifting fungus, I scratched my head in confusion.  The map was indicating that I would find the fungus, this Mutalorem, inside the waterfall.  I wasn’t about to question the directions of someone who lived in this dark forest, as I would surely fare no better on my own, but that admittedly seemed strange.

The indicated water feature was about a five minute hike up the increasingly steep hills that stretched up to the deep violet patches of sky fighting through the dense storm clouds.  The whole way up was a constant battle against the endless rivers of mud that snaked around my hooves, trying to bring the entire mountain with them.

I pushed through a thicket of wet shrubs adorned with glistening, pink, night flowers, and laid eyes upon the aquatic spectacle before me.  The waterfall flowed out from an odd crack in the side of a steep  part of the mountain.  It dropped freely for about fifteen yards before crashing down into a set of descending terraces.  It was hard to tell if the pools were natural or ponymade, as the walls that encased them were large rings of roughly hewn soft pink marble.  The marble had a peculiar sheen to it from the rain and pockets of moon and starlight that shone through, coalescing with it on the earthy stone.  

I spread my wings out and hopped up into the air, pumping them hard to lift me up to the first terrace.  I alighted on the rim of the lowest one, which still laid nearly three body lengths above the ground.  I tentatively dipped one of my hooves into the shimmering pool and felt the cool water ease and condense my tired muscles.

I began to trot through to the other side of the first pool but came to see that I would need to walk along the edges of the rest of them, as they became increasingly deeper.  I hopped and wobbled along the next two basins until I reached the largest one at the base of the falls.  I took the moment to look around at the craggy rock wall looming to my right, continuing a ways above to form a fine peak.  To my left was a somewhat impressive drop, as I was now above most of the trees around me and the lowest pool.  This spot free of dense flora gave way to the cluttered heavens above; to Luna’s majesty dueling the forces of the Earth below.

The roaring of falls deafened the pattering rain bursting on the stone beneath me.  I once again pulled out the map from my bag to double check that I was indeed in the right place.  After glancing over it I accepted that I’d deciphered the map correctly in believing that I was to go through the waterfall and into the mountain.

I tentatively approached the frothing waters and stuck a hoof out into its depths.  I expected to push straight through but was surprised to feel the resistance of the mountain itself directly behind it.  I became puzzled and concerned; what was I to do now?

I sat down briefly to analyze my surroundings, trying to figure out another way behind the falls.  As my eyes drifted into my distorted figure in the pool below, I got my answer.  From the pocket of moonlight above I could see down into the stone pool.  A little ways down I could see glowing fungi clinging to the sides and bottom.  In their light I could make out what appeared to be a tunnel going under the falls.

Seeing as I was already soaking wet from the downpour, I didn’t much mind the surprise diving excursion.  I mentally prepared myself as I also began ensuring the bags were closed completely and that the water-repellant spell was still taking effect.  After finding everything checked out ok, I took one quick look to the dark skies above and then plunged into the chilly pool.  

I fought to keep my eyes open as I swam almost blind in my effort to follow the lights of the submerged mushrooms.  They seemed to cluster mostly around the opening and inside of the tunnel itself, so I would thankfully be going in the right direction if I just followed the bright lights.

Once I reached the inside of the underwater passage, I immediately noticed just how dense the fungi were inside there.  Hundreds upon hundreds of light blue torches glowed brightly as they clung to all sides of the tunnel.  

I had no idea how long this stone hallway was going to be, but had faith that if Saltus had made this trek before, so could I.  After a few quick twists and turns, the passage began to shoot upwards.  Within moments I could feel myself break from the water, the soft and deep muffling in my ears giving way to the clear sounds of my harsh breaths.  Perhaps the old shaman was a bit more athletic than he let on.

As I cleared the water out of my eyes I couldn’t help but gasp as my vision ran over every square inch of the room before me.  The tiny tunnel opened up in a small hole in the floor at the back of a cavern, with a high and narrow passage continuing on around a corner.

The walls were a dark earthy brown tone and converged into a vaulted ceiling above me.  Such a dull sight was made wondrous, however, by the addition of segments of wall that had broken off to show numerous pockets of Amethyst geodes.  It was a rather dark area, but the faint lights of the fungi that continued out of the pool and on the damp floor below were reflected in pinprick twinkles from the lavender crystals.   

Luckily there was only one path for me to take, so I headed on through the dark passage before me.  As I rounded the first bend of the corridor, it began to open up into a vast hallow core in the center of the peak.  I couldn’t be certain, but it seemed to go most of the way up the remainder of the mountain.  There were broken shelves of rock that ran up and down this core in random intervals.  In the center, there was mostly a drop that seemed to end up in an underground reservoir, though it was hard to tell in this room with only a faint bit of illumination from moonlight in an opening near the top.

I consulted the hand-drawn image I was given of the fungus I was tasked to find.  Aside from its body with a rainbow-like oily sheen, it had a rather distinct shape.  There was a thick central body that housed anywhere from four to seven off-shoots of a much more spindly build that snaked above the main body.  I stopped at the edge of the shelf that continued from the path behind me and surveyed the outcroppings above.  After a few minutes of scanning, my vision reached about two thirds of the way up to the skylight where the moon was silently filtering in.  Catching the light above it, I found a small cluster of the Mutalorem growing around the rim of one of the rock shelves.

I began my ascent up the hollow stone spire by leaping to a ledge a few body lengths above me and to my right.  This would be a far more daunting task for a non-pegasus, but I was still uneasy of the dark drop below me should I somehow fall.  Most of the shelves weren’t too far apart and I began to effortlessly jump up and around the curved walls of the mountain’s interior.  Though after about a dozen easy jumps, I came to see there was no ledge nearby, and still a good ways to the top.  

I didn’t want to fly this; I didn’t like the idea of going straight up and over the pit.  I liked the security of these little rest stops along the way, but now I had no choice.  I looked to the other side of the wall and saw my only next option.  It wasn’t too high, but it was as far across the gap as it could be.  I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths before springing off the outcropping and spreading my wings as far as they could go.

Once I felt the heavy force of gravity start pulling me down, I began furiously pumping my wings.  I was working them far harder than I needed to, but I would have much rather tried too hard than face my alternative.  A few tense moments of haphazard flight and I soon alighted upon the shelf just below the desired fungi.  

I stopped to catch my breath and thought I began to hear something nearby.  It was a faint scuttling noise, one accompanied by a kind of digging in the wall next to me.  I paid it no mind, I was merely happy to have that last trial behind me.  I got back up to my hooves to reach up on my hind legs towards the fungus.  Yet, as I did I realized I should have paid more attention to the sounds.  At that moment, eight long legs poked out of a head-sized burrow right next to my face as the body of an unpleasantly large arachnid emerged and began crawling towards me.

I don’t like large creatures.

I don’t like spiders.

I especially dislike large spiders.

As I let out an unflattering squeal for a stallion such as myself, I lost my balance and began to fall into the darkness.  After even more panic at my current predicament, I finally regained my aerial balance and began to control my descent with my wings.  I was falling too fast to just try to stop before I hit Celestia-knows-what down below.  So I banked myself to be parallel to the wall and began to gallop along it in a downward spiral with my current momentum and wing stability.  

As I began to slow down I eventually started to level out horizontally thanks to the assisting force of my wing power.  As soon as I did I came across another shelf.  I intentionally overshot it to get my hooves off on the back edge of it and leapt back into the air.  There wasn’t enough room to fly forwards and gain altitude, so I had to keep leaping from ledge to ledge as I continually ran in short bursts along the wall then launched myself into a brief glide again and continued the process.

Continuing this eventually got me back to where I once was at the humble spider’s abode.  I carefully made my way back to fungus, the whole while checking the burrow continuously.  I froze as soon as I saw the legs re-emerge.  It crawled its entire body out and turned to face me.  After a moment of sizing me up, it quickly turned around and scuttled back inside its home.  Somehow I still don’t believe the whole ‘they’re more afraid of you than you are of them’ thing.

After briefly fighting my embarrassment I once again reached up to the spot where my desired ingredient was growing and plucked a few big oily caps and put them in my bag.

I sat down on the rock ledge to consult my map for the final ingredient.  Saltus had written that this next one would be a problem for any non-pegasi, once again fixing my curiosity on how he’d ever acquired these ingredients before.  

Apparently decades of growth on the top of this mystic peak has led an ordinary deciduous tree to spawn a fruit unlike anything else.  Saltus had no name for the mutated sprout, but merely requested I be very careful around the aged and incredibly rare tree.  

Immediately, I looked up to the gap in the rocky ceiling that lay a short ways above me.  It wouldn’t be too hard to climb up there, though there was no telling what type of climbing conditions would be out there if I wasn’t able to fly.  

I got back up to my hooves and began to make as I had in leaping from outcropping to outcropping.  Within minutes I was precariously perched on the rim of the opening, simultaneously inside and out of the peak itself.  

The clear night sky was a wondrous sight to behold now that the clouds had cleared the dark celestial canopy.  A rumble of thunder shook me out of my reverie as I tried to discern where such a disturbance could have come from on a cloudless night.  

An idea then crossed my mind as I looked down past my hooves and towards the forest below, which was now completely engulfed in the thick storm clouds that were now rolling violently below me.  I hadn’t realized just how far I’d climbed inside that spired cavern.

With no storm to keep me grounded I stretched my wings as far as they would go and leapt down to the squall below.  Long before my wings would ever graze the monsoon below I pulled up into a sharp climb and spun around to face the mountain.  

From this new viewpoint I then saw my final destination a brief flight above me.  I began my acceleration towards the very top of the mountain.

I alighted upon a small boulder in which the tree’s roots burrowed underneath, stretching far down into the rock.  It was a fairly average sized tree, but its remarkable aspect was the almost crystalline fruit that hung lazily from the various branches, sharply reflecting the silver moonlight above it.  

Magic or not, I wasn’t sure how any tree could form gemstones out of its foliage so I tentatively grasped one of the pear-shaped emerald fruits and brought it under the scrutiny of my azure eyes.  I then tried to test the consistency of it by poking my hoof into it firmly.  Much to my surprise, it fractured into a dozen different pieces and fell to the ground before shattering even further into smaller fragments.

Still bewildered, I stared at the peculiar green shards, trying to understand this odd fruit.  After pulling another one down and trying another texture test, I got similar results and came to the conclusion that these crystal fruits had the consistency of a somewhat brittle hard candy.  It was fascinating; they were very much like big chunks of rock candy growing on trees.

Saltus hadn’t mentioned anything about them being safe to eat, so I simply gathered up a few and gently laid them in the last empty pouch of my bag.  I kind of anticipated they would taste like green apple candies though.  





I couldn’t gauge what time it must be from the position of the moon, but I figured it was late.  I looked forward to not only having a warm and dry place to sleep, but a place that I had earned my stay in.  It was relaxing to have finished with my task; though hopefully my future adventures wouldn’t be quite as, well…adventurous.

Eager to get to my home for the night, I took one last look up to the stars and heard another soft, beautiful tune of theirs.  The sound was louder now than I’d ever heard it before since I was seemingly so close to them up here.  When Luna created this nocturnal arrangement she clearly had something as strong and beautiful as the love of her sister on her mind and welling in her heart.  

I don’t usually hear ‘instruments’ in these celestial songs, but rather a variety of sounds that are indescribable, and unique enough to identify the emotion or idea of their origin in the goddess’ heart.  Her magic and knowledge knows no bound.

Pushing my reverie aside I approached the edge of the peak and looked down to the quilt of thick, dark clouds below.  I stared for a moment in contemplation of how I should get down from here.  I was afraid that climbing back through the cavern would be too much stress on the recently acquired fruits, so I needed another route.

I continued pondering a solution until an epiphany struck me as energetically as the smirk it brought to my face.  I took a few steps back…closed my eyes….then ran straight off the mountain, leaping high into the moon before gracefully dancing with gravity back towards the forest below.

Storm clouds such as these could generally be fairly tough to punch through, so I folded my wings in and continued my dive with hopes I could force my way straight through them.  

The descent lasted longer than I thought it would and I braced against the cold, high-altitude winds fighting me back.  I couldn’t stop now, I had to keep going, faster, and faster.  After a condensed eternity the tempest raced up towards me as I tried to make my body streamlined as an arrow.  I pointed my head down and readied myself for the breach.

My eyes being closed the whole time, the only sensation I remember is of feeling the cool droplets surrounding me in the murky cocoon; having thousands of chilly beads cling to the fur on my face. 

As soon as the sensation was gone I reopened my eyes and tried to blink the raindrops from my blurry vision.  I knew I only had a brief window in which I could correct my path, so I unfurled my wings with great haste and strength as they caught the wind underneath.  I pulled up as hard as I could just as my dangling hooves skimmed through the saturated leaves of the forest canopy.

I attempted to slow down quickly by angling my wings to catch the air.  I soon came to a hovering stop, viewing the undulating woods as they climbed the peaks and valleys of the surrounding area.  I no longer had the luxury of being above the storm, so I hastily made my way back under the foliage umbrella to begin the search for a way back to the shaman’s.





It admittedly took a bit longer than it should have for me to work my way back to the pools at the base of the mountain, but from there I mostly knew my way anyhow.  The rain was still soaking the area around me, but it had died down to a cool, thin mist that snaked silently around every tree.

The trek back did not take nearly as long, as I managed to find a rudimentary trail laid out by my previous hoofsteps in the soppy mud within half the time it took me to make them.

Cold, wet, and tired I finally saw the dancing fireflies once more.  I stopped a moment to appreciate them before beginning to feel a little guilty for taking some of their brethren, but I had a debt to repay for the kindness of a stranger.

I parted from their presence with a small smile across my lips and began to close up the final gap to Saltus’ tree home.  

When I arrived at the door, the zebra greeted me with a grateful smile that lit up the dark woods.  As I smiled back he once again ushered me into the warmth of his organic home.

“Ah my friend the generous pony,

Have you the fruits of your quest to show me?”

I wearily nodded my head and handed him the saddlebag.  After rummaging around the various compartments of the satchel he too nodded his head.

“I thank you for gathering all I requested,

Now I think that it’s time that you rested.”

I wiped the mud off my hooves with small towel he handed me that I also used to dry myself off with.  I trotted over to a corner of the room where a bed of large pillows and thick quilts had been laid out for me.  I unceremoniously plopped down and felt the cushion swallow me up, and I had no intentions of fighting it.

Sleep came upon me faster than I’d expected as my eyelids became impossible to control and exhaustion got the better of me.  I rolled over and wrapped the blanket around me tight as I quietly sighed.  

At the far end of the room Saltus was adding the various ingredients I’d gathered to a potion base he seemingly prepared while I was out.  He wasn’t at it very long before he silently nodded to himself that everything was in order and then proceeded to extinguish the lanterns around the room before retiring for the night.

Skydiving, giant spiders, and rock candy fruit all certainly made a very interesting first day of my adventure.  I knew the rest of my trips wouldn’t be any easier, and I secretly loved that.  

As I closed my eyes one last time, I looked out the window near my head.  The sky was entirely clear now, and as few faint rays of moonlight draped across my face I listened to the faint sounds of the forest insects chirping in the distance.  Their soft singing faded away into nothingness as I drifted into a different realm.  



> Chapter 2: The Steaming Kettle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

An early morning chill wafted through the wooden home as my ears were assaulted by the ringing of the small alarm clock I’d laid out beside me.  I worked hastily to pull myself up from my bed on the floor and shut the device off before I could rudely awake my host.

Sitting up but not quite mentally awake, I took a few moments to stretch out the hours of deep sleep from my muscles.  Outside the thin glass pane behind me a soft, clean light gave only a half-hearted effort to lighten up the dark living room.  I could hear a few songbirds coaxing the sun further forth from its own slumber, and the sharp tones from scores of crickets piercing through the morning mist.

I lost myself briefly in a trance, transfixed as the night before, by the vibrant songs of the forest.  I shook my head to clear the haze and began to gather up my bag.  I hadn’t yet decided how to say goodbye to Saltus; I didn’t want to wake him, but I also didn’t want to leave without a farewell.  I really needed to get on the road before the heat picked up, so I couldn’t wait for him to get up.  

As I weighed the options in my mind I heard the click of the front door’s latch and turned my head in surprise.  The striped legs of a zebra passed through the entryway and weighed down the floorboards below them as the figure of my host, and newly-acquired friend, made its way inside.

Ah, my guest is now awake  I see

I suppose it is time you will take your leave?


Never gets old.

Getting up off the floor and hoisting my bags up with me I approached my host.

“Yes, I am; and I can’t thank you enough for the hospitality, especially after I caused your earlier potion-making to spoil.”

Saltus held a hoof up in an attempt to silence any further discussion on the matter.

I ask you think of it no more

For it was not hard to fix.

As I’ve assured you before

You have settled our score.

My face fell in righteous defeat as I came to understand he really didn’t mind.  Still, despite how glad I was to evade the storm and have somewhere other than a tent to sleep in, I hated that I didn’t have time to get to know such an interesting individual more than I had.  Though, as soon as I’d let the thought cross my mind, he once again spoke up.

Now, I believe you said something before

That is, if I remember anymore

That you are in the midst of travelling

And so I’d like to give you this little thing.


The large zebra turned his head to pull out a small vial like the one he’d given me the night before with the night-vision elixir.  He hoofed it over and dropped it into one of my saddlebags.  Before even seeing my quizzical look he excitedly began explaining.

A journey can be quite lonely you see

And with this you will always be able to talk to me.

This magic dust upon any letter,

Can find an individual no way better.

My excitement came to match his as I peered into my bag at the odd sparkling-green powder.

“Oh wow that’s amazing, just like dragon flames.  Well you can be assured you will hear from me, I’m glad to have already made a great new friend.”

Our twin smiles shone to each other as our extended hooves soon shook together to solidify the foundation of a friendship now in the making.



The dull rhythm of my hooves clopping against the worn earthen trail filled me with a quiet complacency as I made good progress towards my goal of Ponyville.  Memories of the night before mingled with daydreams of what was to come.  I wasn’t to stay in Ponyville for very long, but at the rate I was moving I was sure to have a little extra time to at least eat a proper breakfast.

A cool mist hung in the still morning air, lending a contrast to the loathsome humidity that was sure to come out later in the afternoon.  I took note of my pleasant surroundings for the time being, and let my mind focus instead, on the excitement that lay ahead.



As I had anticipated I arrived at the southeast entrance of the sleepy town with the sun still bearing mercy upon those already up and about.  The path led over a large hill and gently wound itself down and branched out into a proper street that continued straight on to the town square a ways down, and off to the sides to form the perimeter of the village.  

A block or two down the road I noted a large wooden sign displaying a steaming cup of coffee, supported by worn iron chains dangling from a wooden overhang.  The establishment seemed as old as the town itself and I took that to be a good indication as to where I should eat in my two hours to spare.  

I nudged the heavy oak door open as a tiny bell signaled my arrival inside.  To my immediate right was a counter manned by two individuals; a large beige earth pony stallion in his fifties, and a mint green unicorn mare about half that.  Both greeted me with a smile as the bell directed their attention to the door.  The younger one spoke up first.

“Good morning, welcome to the Steaming Kettle!  My name is Evergreen, how may I help you?”

I soon came to the realization that my stomach was refusing to communicate its desire.  I spent a few too many moments poring over the chalk-drawn menu behind them before the co-workers exchanged amused smirks at my indecisiveness.

“Um, why don’t I recommend something to you dear?” The mint unicorn offered.

My embarrassment grew and my head dropped as I quietly assented to the offer.

She giggled, “Well you look like you’re hungry, and I haven’t seen you before so I’d bet you’re from out of town travelling.  So to fill you up I’d suggest the platter of boiled carrots and a kettle of pomegranate tea to go on the side.  How’s that sound dear?”

“Immaculate,” I stated through an already salivating mouth.

Evergreen smiled as she exclaimed, “coming right up!” and turned off to a stove behind her.

“That’ll be six bits.”  A gruff voice interrupted my anticipatory food coma as the older stallion spoke up for the first time.

“Oh uh, yes here you go,” I fumbled out as I procured the currency from the bags at my side.

“Take a seat dear and I’ll have this right out to you,” she called from over her shoulder.

I obeyed the unicorn mare as I found a small table next to a brick fire pit in the center of the dining area.  The whole seating area was rather large, and very open.  Continuing on past the kitchen and check-out counter was a small hall that led to restrooms on one side and a stairwell on the other.  I then noted the loft that that reached a little ways above the kitchen; creating a pseudo second floor to the building.  I had guessed this was where the employees lived, and that this was a family-run establishment, like most things in this town I’d assume.

My eyes grew tired of taking in the building’s entirely wooden interior and I began to look towards the kitchen, losing track of where my eyes drifted off to.  I wasn’t aware of what I was staring at or for how long until I heard a loud *thwack* and turned to see a cleaver resting on a cutting board held by the older stallion who was now looking over at me with grave contempt.  

What had started out innocently enough with me staring lustfully at my future meal had incidentally turned to me staring at Evergreen.  The salivation didn’t help.

I immediately broke my gaze and found deep and meaningful fascination with the various nicks and cracks of the old wooden table I was seated at.  After a few more minutes of awkwardly avoiding the elder’s death glare, the younger co-worker levitated a tray down in front of me.  The aroma of the meal before me broke my intimate reverie with the table and I looked up into Evergreen’s smiling face.

“Here you go dear, I hope you like it.”

I tried and failed to match her exact level of enthusiasm as I thanked her for the surely delectable meal.  She hung around awkwardly for a moment before speaking up once more.

“Um, would you mind if I sat down with you for a minute?  That is, if you wouldn’t mind just a brief interruption.”  Her eyes bounced between me and the floor.

“Oh uh, not at all, yeah have a seat,” I motioned for the chair across from mine as I tried not to look directly at the angry glare behind her accented by brandished, glistening cutlery.  

“That your father?” I asked nonchalantly as I nodded to the kitchen behind her whilst she took her seat.

An incredulous look grew on her face, “Yeah! How’d you know?”

“Just call it a sharp hunch,” I murmured as I took my first bite of the plate laid before me.

She seemed to think nothing of it and brought back her enthusiastic smile.  “So you’re from out of town aren’t you?”

I swallowed the first bite and replied with a bit of my own surprise.  “Yeah, I am, how’d you guess?”

She flashed me another smile as she spoke, “With a town this small you’d be hard pressed to find an unfamiliar face that wasn’t from somewhere else.  Plus, I don’t know, you just have a look about you that says you’re out and about; a little adventure in the eyes I guess.”

Her perception amused me as I took a sip from the steaming cup of tea.  “That is more or less what I’m doing,” I said.  “I’ve finished my schooling and decided to set out and learn more about the world around me first-hoof.”

“Where are you from?”

My small bit of fame with the individual across from me was likely to be crushed as I revealed my origin.  “Ever heard of the small town of Hayfield a ways southeast from here?” I asked with trepidation.

My fears confirmed; her face contorted in confusion.  “I’m afraid I haven’t.  Then again, geography isn’t exactly my strong point.”

My ears folded against my head in mild embarrassment.  “Yeah, can’t say I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it.  Not a lot goes on there.”

In spite of what I may have thought, my new acquaintance merely perked up in more of her seemingly trademark excitement.  “Well why don’t you tell me more about your home then?  Surely it’s not all bad.”

I cursed my previous choice of words.  I certainly did not hold any contempt for the sleepy town I’d spent my better days in.  But, the whole reason I was even on this journey to begin with was because I’d grown tired of that place.  Call it a love-hate relationship.

“Well it’s a fair bit smaller than Ponyville here, but we have a great diversity of residents; ranging from all three races of ponies to both zebras and griffons.  On one side of the town we have a lake where I’d spent my years growing up with my mother and a loving, elderly couple who lived a short ways down from us along the shore.  To the other side is my lifelong friend’s home in the hills, she’s always been like a sibling to me, which is something I’ve always wanted since I had such a small family growing up…”

Before I could continue in my reminiscing, I saw the mare’s azure eyes poke past her turquoise mane, looking for some scrap of information.

“Why such a small family?  Uh, if you don’t mind me asking of course,” she spoke with great curiosity and a twinge of hesitation.

The question caught me off guard as I had to completely stop and think how it was that I’d come to lose my father.  

“Well,” I said as I began to recall a sordid tale from my past.



Thirteen years ago was when I lost him.  My mother and I had just become accustomed to our lovely home along Angel Lake.  My father would have as well, but he was always too busy to really ever spend much time there.  

My father was a botanist who worked for the royal government with the primary task of ensuring that the expanding Equestrian kingdom did nothing to threaten the flora and overall habitats of the surrounding areas.

He was always travelling, and seldom home.  Yet, I feel like this enabled a stronger relationship between us when I was a younger child.  Children only know the here and now; they know what they want, (sometimes,) and know without hesitation that the less of something you have, the more it means to you.

My father’s private evenings with me on the lake shore mean more to me than any of the exotic gifts he ever brought back from his trips.  We didn’t need to do much for them to be so memorable, and most of the time we simply skipped rocks until the moon began its journey out of the sky and we felt as if we’d tossed half the shore into the black waters of the lake itself.

All was well, until he didn’t come home one week.  Or the next.  After a while my mother became hysterical with her speculations as to his disappearance.  I tried to comfort her, to reassure her that maybe he got called off on a side job while he was off in the Drakeland Isles of the Griffon Kingdom.  

“Emergencies happen,” I told her, but I never believed such fantasies.  My thinly veiled lies brought more hallow comfort than they did believability.

Eventually a messenger of the royal guard came to our door clad in a black cloak to tell us what we’d already known but not accepted.

My father was dead, jumped by a gang of street thugs when he’d gone back to one of the larger cities on the main island.  He was on his way to take a midnight ship to come back home early.  

The ruffians responsible for his death swore up and down they had no intention of hurting him as they did.  They didn’t want things to escalate at all, and figured he would just surrender his belongings and they could all be on their way.

Unfortunately my father was tired from an exhausting day of field research and merely wanted to trudge through the bottleneck of travel to get home to his family.  This led him to be quite irritable and put him up for a fight that he’d have otherwise walked away from.

The griffons were surprised at his resilience and only managed to exchange a few blows with him before the youngest one of their group lost his temper and pushed him over the edge of the riverside street they were on.  

He plunged about four yards before landing improperly on his neck on a small stone maintenance walkway running under a nearby bridge.  He didn’t move after that; all that was my father died when his body hit the ground.  According to a witness the griffons just stood there in utter shock long enough for a police wagon to arrive and arrest all three of them.

Five years after the incident I received a letter from the youngest griffon.  He was in a rehabilitation program aimed at reforming his temper and previous issues with theft and greed; as well as committing him to a lifetime of service to his community to add to it what he took in the form of another man’s life.

He was laden with remorse for his actions and begged for my forgiveness for his grave mistake.  I didn’t know what to make of it for days after reading it.  Eventually, it was June who walked me through my confusion with the letter and helped me make the right decision.

“No pony’s perfect Dusk,” she explained as we stared at the descending sun setting the sky ablaze on a summer evening on her front porch.

“And when you hold a grudge against someone for not being that way, you hurt those people the same they hurt you.”  I wasn’t sure I wanted her to be right, but I knew she was.

That night I sat at the desk in my room and wrote a reply.  I explained that I forgave him, but I wanted him to understand exactly what he’d done to my family.  I described my mother’s sorrow and slow emotional recovery, and how I lost my best friend and mentor.  In the end of the letter, though, I assured him that he can go on with his life in peace if he promised to be a mentor and source of guidance for someone else who needed it.

I never received another letter from him in the years to come, only a couple of photos a few years later of a late adolescent griffon with a group of bright-eyed children smiling heart-warming smiles as they all played together.  

It was then that I truly let the past go.



I had been recounting all of this without stopping, and without looking at my conversation partner.  As I finished with my story I looked up at her mortified expression, hoof over her mouth and a discernible tear in her eye.

I immediately mentally berated myself for going into more detail than was likely necessary.  Evergreen took a moment to compose herself before I made eye contact with her.

“That…that’s such a sad story.  I’m so sorry all that happened.”

I gave her a confused look as I began to explain, “I don’t think you paid attention to the most important parts of that story.  I learned how to forgive someone for unspeakable transgressions, but to also hold them accountable for earning that forgiveness.  It’s much easier to give up on someone than to try and help them change.  It’s important that we never do that.”

She pondered the idea for a moment, then looked knowingly at me with a smile of relief.

“That’s quite insightful, I’ll be sure to keep that close to my heart,” she smiled through the entire sentence.

“That’s what I love about working here, I hear so many different things from so many different ponies that it makes me feel like I’d never need to go to any higher formal education.  Because, I learn lessons on how to be a better person this way, and I feel that’s what society needs most out of an individual.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”



We continued our conversation for the better half of an hour, discussing everything from local gossip around our towns and my journey thus far, to our personal aspirations and philosophies.  We continued talking until neither my plate nor mug of tea emitted any more steam.  

When she noticed this her eyes grew in faint horror and she began to excuse herself.

“I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to make you waste your meal, dear.  I’ll be on my way now.  But I’d just like to thank you for the wonderful conversation.  I feel like I’ve learned a lot over this past hour, and you certainly shook up some of the humdrum of my usual mornings.”

I spoke up in reply as she stood from the table.  “The pleasure was equally mine, and thanks again for the meal, cold or not it’s very delicious,” I teased her with a smirk on my face.

A look of feigned anger crossed her face as she huffed in frustration.  She eventually smiled and turned around on her way back to the kitchen to aid her increasingly frustrated father with the new wave of customers that was lining up at the register.  



Ten minutes later I had eaten my fill of what remained of my breakfast.  I gathered up my bags and headed out for the door.  The train would be boarding rather soon and I’d like to make sure I got a seat next to a window.

As I passed by the register she smiled in my direction and gave me a wave goodbye.  Her father also gave a wave goodbye, just not with his hooves.  He really seemed attached to that knife.

I brushed past the growing crowd on my way out the door and headed on down the main street towards the train station and my first real destination.

> Chapter 3: Cadenza (Pt. 1)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The same dull, undulating rhythm of the train that put me to sleep earlier that morning had now woken me up to sight unlike any I had ever seen.  Looking out the frosted window upon which I'd laid my head I was greeted by the sight of immense black rock walls mere meters from the side of the car, whipping by in an onyx blur.  Despite being trapped in this narrow stone canal, a fervent flurry of snow found its way into my sight, and accumulated on the windows of the train.

I’d seen snow before in my days, in fact, I wasn’t much more longitudinally north than Hayfield itself right now.  But being in the Cadenza mountain range we were subjected to the chilling effects of climbing altitude.  This in-turn produced heavy snowfall that stacked a pony’s height deep on flat ground, and formed occasional sheets of glistening azure ice winding up the steep slopes.

With the speed of the train and our proximity to the outcropping I felt the inherent need to hold my breath for fear that the slightest movement would send the car grinding up against the earthen wall.  However, in a matter of a few minutes we were free of the jagged ravine and out onto powdery, rolling hills.  

In the distance I could see my destination, the twin peaks that housed the beautiful village of Cadenza itself.  I’d done a lot of research of that place in my younger years and more recently when I decided I wanted it to be the first destination of my expedition.  Its history is as fascinating as its daring infrastructure.



It all started when a still adolescent Cadance had been tasked by Celestia to check up on a small mining town nestled in a harsh and unforgiving mountain range to the west.  Communications had gone dead for a couple months, and in as hostile an environment as that area was, that was a dangerous amount of time to be out of touch with the outside world.  Obeying her aunt’s wishes she immediately packed for a cold and bitter trip.  

The pegasus-drawn carriage that was flying her to her destination had a hard time finding the destination itself due to a massive storm that had nearly buried the small community.  Once the people there saw the airborne carriage, they began digging out a small runway for it to land.  Once safely on the ground she stepped out into the powdered ice and greeted the seventy or so ponies living there as warmly as could be done in such a place.  

The villagers soon rushed her inside the town hall that housed three long tables where all the ponies would gather together for both diplomacy and camaraderie.  A large feast was soon prepared for the princess and her guards in the vast wooden lodge.  Children ran around playing with each other amongst the tables while the adults began to fill the princess in on the current situation.  

“As you can see princess,” one burly stallion explained, “a storm like no other has ravaged our village.  It is almost impossible to even step outside our doors, let alone get to our mining sites.”

Cadance listened to multiple pleas from other individuals all requesting her aid in the situation.  When no one else had anything to say, she finally spoke up.

“My friends, let me just begin by saying that I am honored to be sharing a wonderful meal with such hard-working and dedicated frontier-ponies,” rounds of earnest smiles thanked her in response.  “It is with much excitement that I can present a solution to you.”

She stood up from her seat and began pacing up and down the length of the tables, excitedly explaining her planned solution to their predicament.

“My aunt and I back in Canterlot anticipated that this is what the current situation would be, so together we theorized and designed a device we can construct that will protect the town in a heated bubble of light pyro-magic.  There is a special type of crystal being mined here that, when combined with a charge from a simple pyrokinesis spell, will produce an evenly distributed heat field across a spherical area from the origin crystal”

The other ponies in the room began mulling the idea over and eventually agreed that such a device was both possible and practical.

They cheered for her brilliant solution and immediately began discussing the intricacies of the device.

After three days the device was completed, and while not putting the village in a temperate climate, it still managed to make it warm enough to where ponies’ doors would no longer be iced shut for weeks on end.  

By the end of her stay the town looked upon the royal as more than a leader, but also as a friend and member of their community.  Her send-off was a bittersweet ordeal as the whole town watched her carriage return to the capital.  Though they never forgot what she did and as the town eventually grew into a wildly popular tourist destination, renowned for its skiing and hot springs, the town was at last given an official name in honor of its savior: Cadenza.



The train lurched to a halt on the cold steel rails, and I took my first steps into the powdery snow under the frigid gray skies.  Ponies all around me poured out of the cars as well and crowded the relatively small wooden platform, some greeting family and others continuing on towards the main thoroughfare alone.

I needed to find a place to stay for my visit first and foremost, so I too took to the powder-dusted cobblestone street that ran on either side of a long row of neatly-trimmed holly bushes and wrought-iron gas lamps.

Lining the street on both sides of the floral median were beautiful wooden lodges housing warmly-lit shops of all varieties, some with café patios and others with residential lofts built into the second floor.  This line of shops stretched on down the road until both came to a halt at a large rock face roughly twenty yards high.

It was then that the street became a tunnel, burrowing through the stone face and up the mountain via a hoof-carved staircase that emerged some distance above.  The path led up to the city’s most famous feature, the Blizzard Lane Boardwalk.

This grand wooden walkway nestled itself in the cleavage of the two mountains, climbing up along it in wooden terraced sections.  Each terrace was supported by vast columns entrenched deep into the mountains themselves, and stretched lengthways across until the buildings on the far sides of each section were a leg’s length away from the mountain itself.  Each sectioned pavilion acted as a giant step up the gentler slope of the mountains’ face, until it ran into a sheer rock wall as the main road below it had done as well.

This boardwalk was home to a similar array of buildings as the town’s main entry road.  It had all kinds of shops imaginable as well as multiple bathhouses and hotels that granted the town such fame.  I froze for a moment to take in the bustling hoof-traffic flurrying around me like the powder flakes falling from the slate sky above.  A few ponies made eye contact and allotted a warm smile before going about their business, filling up the walkways with their hoof-steps and filling up the air with their warm voices.

As nice as the sight was, I was beginning to feel a chill seeping through my fur and decided I should make finding my lodging my current priority.  The sights and the ponies weren’t going anywhere, after all.  The problem was, I had no idea which buildings were hotels or bathhouses or shops since most buildings shared very similar architecture. 

While looking around for any sign of a hotel, I noticed a small wooden stall housing a vendor who seemed to be peddling sweet rolls and hot chocolate.  Seeing as I hadn’t eaten since before the train ride, it was only a brief internal deliberation before I was trotting up the stairs to the small kiosk on the terrace above me.

The line was rather long, and I began to sincerely hope that it would be worth the wait in the now escalating winds.  After ten or so minutes I arrived at the front of the line to be greeted by a grey-coated stallion with a friendly, but worn-out expression on his face.

“What can I get for you today, sir?” 

My eyes scanned the menu above his head, searching for anything to stave off both my appetite and the biting cold wind.  

“I’d like a triple chocolate hot chocolate, please,” I said with a smile as I reached into my saddlebags to get my bits.

“Oh, but what size, sir?” 

“Oh, um the biggest you’ve got,” I replied in a weary tone, just wishing to complete the transaction and be one step closer to finding a place to lay my head.

He disappeared for a moment behind the small counter before procuring an enormous mug nearly the size of my own head.  He began filling the behemoth up before I could interject about how no sane equine could ever drink all of that before it went cold, and furthermore ask him why such a size existed in the first place.  Remembering the exhausted look on his face prevented me from correcting my order, however, and soon I was presented with roughly four pounds of steaming cocoa.

Not wishing to betray my true horror at what I had just purchased, I hoofed him the money and grabbed the mug.

My buyer’s remorse didn’t end there unfortunately. 

As I spun around hastily to get back to my original task, I bumped into the mare that had been standing right behind me.  In an instant, the milk chocolate monster doused her white coat and long beige-blonde hair.  A near eternal moment of mutual horror and disbelief connected us until I finally began my apology tirade.

“Oh sweet merciful Luna I’m so sorry!”

The blank expression on her face remained unchanged, save for a few blinks that briefly hid her pinprick pupils.

“I, uh, well……”  I couldn’t think of anything to lessen what I had just done and continued to ramble on in my newly founded language of guilty, unintelligible mutterings until she finally spoke up.

“Could you….could you just get me a napkin?  Or twelve,” she spoke in a voice as shaken as her expression.

Without a word I turned back to the kiosk to ask the vendor for some, but he had already pulled them out by the time I was facing him, horror rooted in his eyes as well.

I then transferred the thin napkins to my victim and watched, as everyone else was still doing, in complete silence as she attempted to dry off.  After a few tense moments she levitated the soggy makeshift towels in her amber aura to the nearby trashcan.

After hearing their unpleasant *plop* against the metal bottom, the unicorn mare sighed deeply then looked up at me with a pitiful expression.

“Well, I guess I know what I’ll be doing with my break.  I guess a hot shower on a day like today isn’t so bad,” she smiled feebly, not wholly losing the woe in her voice.

“I am so unbelievably sorry for that, I didn’t see you there and now you have to walk all the way home just to clean up during your time off, and again I’m sorry.  Sorry.”  My hoof had been scratching the back of my neck far more than any itch could have warranted.

“Heh, really it’s not that bad.  I work in the Hoofprint Lodge a couple terraces up from here, so I can just use a shower in one of the rooms there.”  A weary chuckle became the suffix for her revelation.

“Ok again, I’m really sorry and I feel like I should…..wait, did you say you work in a hotel?”  Perhaps my luck was about to change.  Shame I couldn’t say the same for her.

“Why yes, why do you ask?”

“Well I’m not from around here; I’m from a warmer town south of here where my fur doesn’t become brittle from standing outside for ten minutes.  And well, I’ve been trying to find a place to stay at while I'm visiting here.  Any chance you have some vacancy there?” I hoped my piteous look might convince her to look past the premise of our introduction, so that she may actually help me.

“Oh,” she smiled, “I thought you looked a bit out of your element here.”  Her hoof brushed aside a lock of stray hair before she gestured for me to follow her.  “But yes, we certainly do have plenty of room.  Come, let's go get you settled in, shall we?”

Relief flooded over me as I began to follow her up the steps towards a massive wood and cobblestone lodge a couple terraces up the mountain.  I could already feel my sense of touch returning at the prospect of having a warm bed to lay down in.  It was still quite early in the day but a nap never did anyone any harm.  

“So where is it you're from, exactly?”  I was shaken from my musing by her (Eagleland?) accent softly permeating the white noise chatter surrounding us.

“Oh, I'm from Hayfield in the Central Equestrian Province.”  I smiled at her, excited someone was taking an interest in my travels.

“Um, I uh, where is that exactly?”  Her confusion dampened my elation as my ears flattened.

“Uh, it's about 6 hours south of here.  It's nothing special honestly, mostly just cows and.....cows.  And there's like....a lake and a couple of trees...and um.  Yeah.”

She giggled in response and smiled over at me, “Well, I'm sure it has some quaint charm to it.”

We approached the small set of marble steps that led just outside of the lobby of the hotel and hovered outside the door for a moment. 

“And what about you, are you from Eagleland perhaps?  Or just a local?”

A look of surprise swept across her face before a knowing smile surfaced.  “Spot on, actually.  Yes I'm from New Cloverfield on the east coast but moved here within the last two years simply because I could.  Well that, and you can only take so many years of being surrounded by stuffy tea drinkers talking about going to watch 'the derby.'”  The last two words of her statement were met with sarcastic air quotes and a matching expression.  It was extremely humorous watching such a spectacle from a mare whom I'd perceived to be so well-mannered, and maybe a little 'stuffy' herself.

We shared a quick laugh as she rolled her eyes at the recollections of her home.  She then reached out to the glass double doors in front of us and held one open.

"After you."



“Liiiiiiillllly!  Are you back yet?” My new companion had quite a set of lungs on her.  Her voice did nothing more than attract the attention of lodgers sitting around the main lobby's fireplace.  She scrunched her nose up and began looking around for 'Lily.'

She walked on past the reception desk, precariously situated beneath a very large wooden staircase with ornate wrought-iron railing flanking the sides.  Beyond that was the main lobby, a wide open public living  area with a fireplace sporting a raging inferno.  Grand hoof-woven tapestries of the royal sisters hung regally from every wall, stretching down to the polished oak floor populated by a plethora of plush sofas.

All of the ponies sitting in there raised an eye from their books and periodicals to investigate the disturbance.  Two dozen pairs of eyes followed our movement across the room as I followed the unabashed mare in front of me.  She called out again to no response, with stark irritation beginning to spread across her face.  Without a word she led me up the large staircase to the second-floor landing and continued on down towards the end of the hall.  

After passing rows of rental rooms she reached a hoof out and opened the sliding glass door at the end, where I saw her expression further stiffen.  She addressed her attention towards one of the two hot tubs on the deck overlooking the front entrance outside, to a unicorn mare with a light maroon coat who was laughing amongst friends.  My acquaintance raised one eyebrow and stared with a half-lidded expression at the unicorn, before one of her other friends noticed us.  

“Oh, hey Carat!  We didn't see you there, want to join us?” The earth pony mare beamed as brightly as her voice.

Before 'Carat,' as I now learned her name to be, could respond, her friend whom I'd figured must be 'Lily' spoke up.

“Yeah goldilocks, the water's per-” Her tomboy-ish voice cut itself off as she spun around to us and took note of me.

“Ooooooh, who's the stallion?  You didn't tell me about him, when did that start?  How'd you meet?  Is he from around here?  What does he do for a living?  I always pictured you as a unicorn kind of gir-oof”  Lily's mile-a-minute tirade was interrupted when Carat levitated a nearby foam water noodle and clocked her across the face.

“I told you to stop doing that,” the half-lidded expression never departing her scowling face.

“Do what??” Lily's faux innocence dripping with sarcasm like the water from her mane.

“Every time I bring anything male with me anywhere and you see me, you immediately come up to me and ask the same recycled series of questions in a daft attempt to be humorous.”

“Hey, that old unicorn I saw you with on Tuesday really looked like your type!  Excuse me for being excited for you.” Lily crossed her forelegs in an almost convincing pout.

“That was my grandpa!”

“Well I thought you liked older stallions!”

Carat facehoofed unceremoniously before beginning again in a deadpan tone.

“Look our break is almost over, I need you to get back to the front desk so I can show Dusk here to his room.”

“Alright, but just be sure you don't stay in there with him!”  In the few minutes I had now known Lily I had never seen a serious or 'normal' face out of her.

Carat huffed in frustration and motioned for me to follow her back down the hall.  As we turned around to leave Lily piped up once more with a flirtatious “Byeeeee” before breaking down into a giggling fit with her fellow marefriends.  As soon as the sliding door closed behind us I heard another loud *THWACK.*

Her mood already greatly improved, Carat turned to me with a smile as the aura of her magic dissipated and said, “Well, shall we then?”