uno
Cold, oh so cold. I know now with certainty that winter is approaching, and fast. Why does winter have to be now? Can't somepony like Princess Celestia or Princess Luna change it? Maybe shift it back a few months, or better yet, just remove it all entirely. That sure would be nice. Not that it matters, even if the royal sisters could alter the seasons it's not like we have any way of contacting them. And if we could contact the royal sisters, or anypony for that matter, we would have already been long gone, viewing the winter as a spectator from the comfort of a sofa while drinking hot chocolate, warming our hooves by the fireplace, and telling stories among friends and family. That reality exists somewhere, but not here. Instead, we are a participant of the winter and must endure Equestria's unforgiving elements without leave.
The only comfort I seem to posses is the company of a friend. I use the word "friend" here lightly though as she has only been my "friend" since the accident, and a lousy one at that. The truth is, we are only friends for the simple fact that we survived and we need each other if we want to keep it up. Were we to meet in nearly any other situation, I guarantee neither of us would so much as make eye contact. But this was no ordinary situation. Here, right now, where life and death hangs in the balance, she is my best any only friend. It's apparent that she and I are very different though. She seems unconcerned with the realities of our situation, and remains eerily stoic all day every day. It's like she is afraid to let her emotions out for fear that they will overwhelm her being. Or perhaps she has already given up, content with the idea of perishing by nature's will without struggle. Whatever the case may be, I am different. I am determined to resist nature's might and survive this ordeal so that one day soon, I will return home to sip hot coco and read romance novels snugly under my blanket. As a result of our polar interests, I end up doing most of the work while she mopes around getting to enjoy the fruits of my labor. It's beginning to aggravate me but if nopony does it then we both die, right? And, even though I am reluctant to admit it, I need her. I fear that lack of communication with another pony out here could lead to serious concerns for one's mental stability. Thankfully I have her and she has me so we both may keep our sanity. For this I am grateful.
Every morning I wake up to the warmth of the sun shining though the cracks in our poorly made wooden structure. She is always up before me for, probably because she barely exerts any effort throughout the day. Numerous fresh bites of all shapes and sizes have formed on my body from the insects which inhabit these grounds. I no longer concern myself with these, they have become a part of my new life. After we exchange a groggy "good morning...", I trot off to gather wood while she stays back and "holds down the fort." I do enjoy wondering through the forest alone, exploring different paths than the day before and spotting unexplored ones to check the next morning. Most times I find nothing of significance. But every now and then, I stumble upon an animal or plant that I had not seen before. Each time I venture out, I go just a little farther than the time before. I am, however, very careful not to get lost. I know very well that loosing my bearings out here could spell the end of my chances for survival. I have a routine of marking trees along my path with square carvings so I know where I've been. Once I am satisfied with the amount of wood collected, I come back, drop it all off, and we both grab our handmade fishing rods.
Fishing is my favorite part of the day because its usually the warmest at that time and the area by the lake is so beautiful its like standing inside a living breathing work of art. The water glistens in the sunlight with a few ripples on occasion. The trees and mountains in the distance reflect on the lakes surface giving it an almost unreal and divine nature. Wind blows and leaves flutter though the air, sometimes landing on the surface of the water and disrupting the illusion. We silently stand at the edge of the calm water for what I assume from the movement of the sun is about two hours. Neither of us is a unicorn and therefore we must hold the makeshift fishing poles in our mouths which makes the whole thing an awkward silence as we both stare out onto the surface of the lake hoping to score some dinner. Despite me having absolutely zero fishing skills, I seem to have far greater luck when it comes to catching fish, in fact, now that I think of it, I don't think she has caught a single fish this entire time. I don't like to point these kinds of things out though, at-least she is trying and I don't see any point in hurting her feelings. Today we caught a small fish, I don't know what it's called and I don't care. All I know is that we have food tonight. Some nights we don't catch anything. I hate those nights.
After fishing, we bring our food back to camp and sit by the pit where the fire would be. And oh yeah, that fire wood I mentioned earlier, it has so far not been put to use except to construct the shelter. Three days after the accident, we spent hours taking turns scraping and grinding the wood at various angles trying with all our might to achieve a spark. Nothing. Even with our combined efforts would could not even make a little smoke. Survivorpony and Mustang vs. Wild made it seem so easy, you just put a dry stick between your hooves and twist it on some tinder until it finally caught, the whole process taking no longer than 30 minutes. No. Not here, not for us. Were one of us a unicorn, fire would be a piece of cake, sadly that luxury is not provided to us. Even still, I gathered fire wood every morning and piled it up for the day we finally make fire.
While we eat, we sit and talk. She always insists on giving me the most food, I guess she feels guilty for not doing as much work. Our conversations usually revolve around our respective homes, our family, friends, jobs, and things of this nature. These talks always make me feel better. We avoid speaking of the accident or the ponies who died or the prospect of our demise. What would be the point? Its almost like if we don't say it, those realities will go away. But they won't. After dinner we check the shelter to ensure no peaces have fallen off or broken. We add any structural supports as needed. By this time the sun is nearly at the horizon, projecting an orange hue on the landscape. The air quickly grows frigid as we carefully huddle together inside our shack to retain the most heat possible. It's at this time I curse Celestia for making fire so elusive. How I would love to warm my icy cold hooves by an open flame. I remember my father once told me to wish in one hand and poop in the other, and see which one fills up first. I stopped wishing. With this, I shut my eyes and shivered through the night as Luna's darkness fell upon the world.