> A Sun in Winter
>  by Sledge115
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there were two regal sisters who ruled together, and created harmony for all the land.  
To do this, the eldest used her unicorn powers to raise the sun at dawn; the younger brought out the moon to begin the night.
Thus, the two sisters maintained balance for their kingdom and their subjects, all the many equine tribes.

But there was a time before, when the days were dark, and the world was unknown even to those living within.

Before these two sisters began their reign, the cold crept from the North of the world, and invaded the hearts of a lost people, once great and whole, now divided and squabbling. 
Where there had been childlike innocence in the wake of a mighty power’s fall from grace, now did the rediscovery of knowledge take its toll, for ignorant hearts froze keen minds in their tracks.

Remember this always.

Like any child, you know that fire means warmth and light, just as ice means cold and dark.
Yet know this, too. Ice and fire burn alike.

The fire warmths your hearth, gives you light of day, keeps the night’s hunters at bay.
And within the ice, all is preserved, and beauty carved, and a mirror held aloft to the world.



* * * * *


The days were dark, the winds as cold and as unforgiving as the frozen grounds beneath the ice. Winter had come, and throughout the land, not a single soul dared to venture outside the safety of their hearth, into the desolate, frozen wasteland that lay beyond.

Save for one.

The pale silver doe’s breath grew ragged as the winds blew harder and harder across the frigid tundra. Her hooves were cracked, her gait weakened, and her body starved – but she persisted, for whatever purpose lay ahead was far more important than her concerns.

She could hear them amidst the blizzard, snarling, watching her move. As they had been, ever since she left the fringes of Equestria and into the realm of the Krampus.

Lilja thought fleetingly of the vile being, a dark abomination, as dark as the realm that birthed it, and the master of the windigos. And if such a creature mastered even the windigos, those icy ghouls, who were said to consume both mind and flesh, what else may it rule?

The Krampus’ imprisonment was of scant comfort for her. She heard the cackle and the howling of wolves, far less uncanny than the windigos pursuing her far above, but nonetheless still a terrifying fate to be considered. The wolves and bears, windigos and chimeras, they were starving, hungry, yearning for their master’s freedom.

But the foals tucked seafely within her bags were more important than her own life, Lilja wagered. Two enigmatic foals, without a parent, brought down to a strange, scary world, a symbol of hope to the beleaguered people of Equestria down south. For now, they would be safer in Adlaborn.

The thought of safety and warmth within Sint Erklass’ safe haven would have to wait, however, as the first of her pursuers revealed itself. That of a gigantic, monstrous polar bear. With a swipe of its claws, it shattered the rocky outcrop, narrowly missing her as she nimbly pranced in avoidance.

It wasn’t alone, to her chagrin, as a windigo, flanked by two wolves, struck from above. For a brief moment, their eyes locked, yellow against her own green pair. The malice rolling off the creature made her skin crawl. She felt it in their glares – clawing, grasping at her psyche, but the doe shook it off, leaping and bucking one of the wolves by its jaw.

She heard the creature’s bones crack on impact, and it let out a pitiful whine. Lilja winced to hear the sound of such pain, too dog-like for comfort, escape this predator’s throat. Yet now was no time for compassion, or mercy. They were after her. 

Taking advantage of its distress, she stomped down, hard, on the wolf’s lolling tongue, crushing it into the rock underhoof. There came the wet, meaty sound of splatter, and the hapless creature leapt back, howling, a trickle of red flowing from its broken maw.

She gritted her teeth, cursing her own circumstances, for her inability to use her magic lest it drew much more powerful entities unto them. Now, she thought, no longer shall it be able to feed itself, or its pups. And what help could it expect in its weakness, from brethren such as this?

A tear might have welled up in her eye at that image, yet, teeth gritted, she blinked it back. She had children of her own to defend. And in this moment, this was more than the innocent cruelty of nature at work. These were monsters, hunting for her children. The cold and dark had filled them with hunger, a hunger more black and empty than what was right, and twisted them into something hateful.

To her right, she glanced, hearing the other wolf’s snarl, to see the windgo swoop towards her. She was unable to step aside quite in time. The cold wraith with a horse’s head and a tail of mist and vapor passed right through her, the icy touch of its breath trailing across her pounding heart.

Gasping in shock, she doubled down on herself. It could not hurt her, not truly, so long as she refused to let it in. But it could make her fear. Could make her feel, just for a fleeting, horrid moment, the same hunger within her heart that these wretches had fallen prey to, had allowed to consume them. Make her know how much they yearned to take her next.

And maybe even make her want to be taken.

Lilja’s gallop slowed down, weakened by both fatigue and a diminishing will, for the storm raged on without reprieve. As agile as she was, no mortal force, not even her own kind, could withstand the full fury of the winter storms without rest. The snow fell ever thicker and deeper, and even as she felt her ghostly pursuer halt, she heard a devilish little voice inside her mind, inciting her to surrender.

Within the scattered ruins of what had once been a home, abandoned in the tundra, she collapsed, heaving with chattering teeth. The storm was near impassable now, as the howling wind blew against her temporary shelter without mercy or compassion.

Her enchanted bags ruffled, and from within she could hear the soft whimpers and whinnying of the foals under her care – whom she had failed, utterly.

With a wave of her hooves, she cast a small fire – not quite large enough to last, but not small enough to merely light the room. It was warm, and warmth was all she and the foals needed as they awaited the inevitable embrace of death, as the howls of the wind and predators blurred into one.

“Hush now, quiet now, little one,” she cooed, holding one of the foals – the smaller of the two, a filly whose coat and mane were coloured blue, with a faintly star-like shimmer in her mane. “The Allfather will be here soon, and you and your sister will be safe.”

The other foal, the elder of the two, snuggled against her side. Her coat was of the purest white, whiter than the snow beneath them, with a light pink mane. She wasn’t much larger than the other, but Lilja believed, from the tone of their previous caretakers, that she was meant to be the elder sister.

Apart from their wings, and horns, the two foals were much like the Allfather’s granddaughters and yet, at the same time, a pair of curious little children, whose parents remained unknown, and whose purposes are yet to be revealed.

Lilja wondered, if she would find peace amidst their jaws, to be a part of the circle of life as the Allfather himself taught. The windigo’s touch was worsening, she knew, and she felt the urge to embrace them in death.

The children, the pair of foals she protects, however, they were untouched, untainted. They needed to live.

She staggered to her hooves, gently setting the foals to the warmest corner of the hut’s remnants. They were close to Adlaborn, so very close, for the frozen air was touched with her kind’s own magical trail. 

Around them, invisible to all eyes but the wisest of the mages, lay an interwoven web of magical energy centred at Zamok Ustyag, the Great Northern Mountain from whence all distances in Equus were measured – and the castle of the Allfather.

Slowly, she unlatched her necklace, a gift from the Allfather for her task. Shaped in a snowflake’s form, greatly resembling his elder granddaughter’s sigil, it was a beacon, a signal to use in times of need and danger.

She chuckled grimly – they were close to their destination, but a false move, an inopportune timing would lead to their deaths.

Nevertheless, it was her only option.

With a graceful, smooth twirl, she cast her necklace off, where it floated in the cold night’s air. The two foals were no longer asleep, for their gaze were fixed on the enchantingly beautiful necklace – before it soared in the air, and activated.

The air became still, and Lilja held the foals close to her, tensely waiting the arrival of either their pursuers or safety.

The growl of wolves, not too far from their shelter brought a sense of dread to her, failure and all – but the sound of tinkling bells was all the more welcome, for help had arrived.

A shimmering curtain of light shone down unto the tundra, and Lilja smiled as she heard the two foals giggle and laugh in awe of the Northern Lights. The storm began to dissipate, as the innate magic of Adlaborn coursed through the frozen tundra, a series of defenses meant to ward off the evil lying in wait.

The magic wielded by her kind much unlike those wielded by the unicorn mages of Equestria, for they sought to control nature – and the Reindeer flowed with it, like water in a gentle stream.

Around them, Lilja heard the distinctive whistling noise of Reindeer magic, her brethren meticulously yet gracefully clearing the area around. Foals by her side, she gazed out the hole – where the distant silhouettes of wolves and bears disappeared into the surrounding wilderness. The windigos were the last ones to remain, and one by one, they too departed into the night sky.

At last, she, and her charge, emerged from their shelter. The snow remained thick, and deep, but the raging clouds no longer cast a looming snowstorm over them, and she was delighted to see Gerda and Kai, the twin holiday stars, twinkling over them. 

They were safe.

A healer doe came by her side, while another took the two foals into her care. She waved weakly, a faint goodbye to the two beautiful children she had risked her life for.

Of all those present here, none brought more comfort than the large, magnificent stag that stood before her. With a coat as red as the first light of dawn, beard and mane silver as the first winter ice, and ancient, weathered antlers larger than any other stag, the Starstrider was truly a sight to behold.

And yet, he felt as warm as any of them were.

“Lilja,” Sint Erklass spoke softly, kindly. “Welcome home.”


* * * * *


Deep underneath Zamok Ustyag, an ancient being stirred. They were close, so very close to freeing it at last. But to no avail, for the accursed deer had managed to drive even the windigos away.

The wolves, hounds, and windigos had failed, and so it remained, trapped. The foals, they too had evaded its underlings, when they had been holed up within arm’s length inside that lodge. Them and that foolish doe.

“Evening,” the Allfather spoke, calmly. His tone was even, without bitterness. But without that distinctive warmth either.

The Krampus considered to the great stag before it. 

“Starstrider…” The ashen, fouled snow beneath it stirred as two old foes faced each other once again. “You have won… nothing.”


* * * * *


The millennia-old Reindeer took a calming breath. 

“If it’s all the same, the foals are safe,” he said firmly. “Lilja has done her duty for them, and she will recover soon enough. Might I ask, how has the winter treated you this year?”

“The frost bites my skin,” the Krampus said softly. “The days are dark and the nights are cold… such a wonderful reminder, that this here is a world lost in the infinite, uncaring void of space... and it is not I alone who am contained within a fragile globe which could shatter at any time…”

It paused.

“So, they have come at last,” the being mused. “Those children who shall grow up to carry the Sun and the Moon of a broken, wounded planet.”

Far, far above Sint lay the cell that held the Krampus, shaped in the form of a translucent globe, yet the eternal snowstorm which raged within made it nigh impossible for him to distinguish the figure of his prisoner. All he could ever make out, and barely, was the blurred, shadowy outline of its horns, and claws pressed against the surface...

And sometimes a golden, piercing eye of cynicism.

Sint coughed. “I assumed it was little use to pretend otherwise, knowing how soon you would find out for yourself,” he told the being, meeting its all-seeing gaze, and at the same time, dreading it, for the Krampus held powers even he did not possess.

Of course, what harm could such sight wreak, so long as it remained imprisoned?

“The foals are safe, Lilja will live to see another day,” Sint said, willing himself to keep his tone steady. “And in Vologda they will remain, where they will be safe until the time comes.”

“The time comes for… what, precisely?” the being replied, its eye narrowing ever so slightly. “For them to unite the tribes led astray? Tell me, were they meant to lead? Were they ever meant to be more than tools, to guide the spheres in the skies of dawn and dusk, when the celestial stones you gave to ponykind could do that job just as well?”

The stag smiled kindly.

“With each thought and every memory formed, the two foals become closer to people than mere tools, Krampus. I shall not subject them to a lifetime of cycling the sun and moon in the sky. If they were meant to be as such, they would have been formed as impassive and unchanging as the stones. They will lead the tribes, with kindness and humility, and of their own volition. Perhaps they will make poor decisions, but perhaps not. My dear granddaughters shall see to it that they are raised, with care and compassion, and not just through hardship and test of mettle.” 

He remained calm, even as the Krampus’s claws made such a terrible noise against the enchanted glass. The never-ending storm within recoiled, and tendrils of ice and snow wrapped around the writhing being, dragging it back down unto the bottom of the globe towards iron long since discarded. Yet its silhouette continued to face him, bent over and hunched in malice.

“With centuries of strife, bloodshed, chaos, and upheaval, perhaps a change in the wind is everything we need, after all!” 

The ancient being snarled, glaring at the stag.“You know not what you do, you foolish buck.”

He inclined his head, with a merry, yet sad, smile.

“Have a good evening, Krampus.”

“We shall see,” the Krampus replied somberly. “We shall see.”
> I - Two Sisters
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



I


Two Sisters





* * * * *


“No.”

“Anna–”

“I said no, Grandfather. No, no, no, N. O. NO. No. I don’t want them here.”

“Your sister has given her blessing, Anna,” the old, dark red stag told her, in that frustratingly patient and calm tone of his. “Please, consider this–”

“What else do I need to consider, Grandfather?” Anna hotly replied. She was unhappy. Unhappy to have been kept in the dark by Lilja, by her grandfather, even by her own sister. But now, she found herself unable to express her building anger anymore than by raising her voice. “You saw what happened out there, Lilja could’ve lost her life!”

“Lilja volunteered, and was ready to give her life for the children, Anna,” Grandfather said. “They will be here for their protection. Equestria is not yet safe.”

“Equestria. But don’t you see?” Anna said, straining not to accidentally upset her grandfather. “The ponies, they drew the Windigos, the wolves and the griffons to their lands by their own resentment! Even in its captivity, the Krampus would have spread an unending frozen wasteland throughout the world! Why should we bear this burden now? We’ve got our own share of problems, and they expect us to solve theirs?”

“Someone has to,” Grandfather said. “We can’t wait for their problems to be solved. For something else to arise and fix all of it. If not us, then who?”

She stomped a hoof on the stone floor, huffing.

“Find someplace else to host them, please. Aren’t we, as a people, meant to be all about giving? Then give them to someone else!”

“But aren’t we all someone else to someone else?” Grandfather mused.

“These are troubled times for Adlaborn a-a-and you’re going to be bringing these, these two foals here? In your castle?”

“Yes,” Sint Erklass replied, warmly. He looked over to Anna, in the paternal manner become so familiar to her. It was sickeningly kind, more so than ever, in a way that just seemed to expose the core of any of her arguments. “Anna, you must understand, these foals were already given to their people by a power quite different from mine. Now they’ve been given to us, so that one day, we may teach them to give as well. All the world shall grow a little richer and joyful for it.”

“I’m sorry,” Anna said, firmly, one hoof out the doorway. “You asked for my blessing, and the answer is no.”

She scarcely heard her grandfather call out to her, down the hall.


* * * * *


The moon hung low over Adlaborn, its silvery glow providing comfort and wonder for the various inhabitants of the lands below. From the fawns, looking up towards the stars from their family dwellings woven from living trees, to the nighttime workers and the young lovers in the intricately carved pathways, all felt it to be a strangely beautiful night, much different from the raging storms of the day before.

For Anna Erklass, staring out from between the arches of the castle walkway, however, the moon’s ethereal beauty held no sway, and she looked at it with a sense of foreboding. Far up here, where there were no trees, save for the one at the very top of this tallest peak in the world, there were also few distractions out-of-doors. Nothing except the path up the mountain, upon which a thousand pilgrims might seek to pay her grandfather a visit all year long.

Thankfully, for Anna, it was a quiet evening, and the only one traversing the path on this particular night was herself. And the long, winding pathway down Zamok Ustyag would scarcely represent a challenge to the energetic doe, who always prided herself in tackling such challenges. 

In a moment, Anna forgot her grievances with her grandfather, gracefully leaping off the walkway and into the open air.

The feeling was exhilarating, the sudden winds brushing against the fur of her coat as she gave herself up to the pull of the earth, letting it take her where it would... yet confident of her capacity to determine her own fate, the air currents brushing lightly upon the soles of her outstretched hooves.

And her forehooves touched down on a rocky outcrop jutting from the mountain. She didn’t stop. Again, with near as much elan, she leapt from a narrower, more jagged space than where she’d started, onto a narrow jagged space. Back, then forth, a little further down each time, relishing the flow of strength from her rump to her hindlegs.

‘I was born to do this,’ Anna jubilated. ‘Walking in the air.’

Thus she glided from outcrop to outcrop, down the mountain’s slope. At last, in a final leap, she landed in a clearing halfway along the path, not a single hair out of place. Panting, she briskly trotted to the lamppost at the centre of the clearing, and brushed away a patch of snow, so she had a place to sit. Her light brown coat shimmered faintly in the lantern’s light, while deep in thought, she gazed towards the valley below.

There, in the distance, as far as her eyes could see, even by the foreign light, lay the grand city of Vologda, heart of Adlaborn, and northernmost metropolis in all of Equus.

Trees filled the city, immense pines and firs, filled with luminescence which made them glow like crystal. Hung from their glowing branches were gems that only added to the beauty of the display, as though the light and splendour of the Solstice were present all the year round. The streets shone with the same glow, and even from up here, she could tell the stags’ antlers and all Reindeer’s shining fur held the same light, as though the very people of this realm were full of light and cheer.

‘Hah, if only,’ she thought.

The buildings looked less like they had been built upon the ground, and more like wooden growths that had burst from the ground, ornate shapes already fresh-grown into the skin of the buildings – decorations and symbols and lines carved into the wood, creating patterns that weaved and danced along walls and pillars. The same beautiful glow seemed infused in these lines, webs and pathways in the wood of shimmering light. 

And within the city, though unseen, the joyous cheers of fawns were heard filling the night’s air with love and affection, in gatherings with friends and family alike to celebrate another year lived and enjoyed.

Of course, reminiscing over the beautiful city, Anna thought, only served to detract from her main concerns. The foals. Those two, unwanted, unneeded foals, whose parents had abandoned, or fostered upon her people as new charges, new burdens.

Ponies were a curious bunch. They had settled down south, those three tribes. The pegasi to master the skies, the earthponies to till the soil, and the unicorns to wield magic. None ventured this far north, for they were too busily occupied with their petty squabbles over in their lands. And now, here they came, those two foals.

Yet Anna Erklass remained sure of their folly, for no two unicorn foals could possibly be this important. What secrets did they hold, for Sint Erklass himself to deny her knowledge, to deny her pleas to let them be sent off somewhere that wasn’t his own family home? She sat back, letting out a long sigh. There was no convincing her grandfather, nor her sister otherwise. Not even Lilja. After all, her mentor had been the one to risk her life for the foals’ sake. Which only left her, Anna, to seclude herself in her room or her workshop, with nought but her fireworks for company.

Fireworks, yes, those would do the trick, Anna mused fondly. Dragons, clusters and sparks, flameless and all the colours of the rainbow! Oh, the wonders and joy it would bring, to deer young and old alike, these darker times notwithstanding. And the cake too, she remembered. She’d love a slice or two of the cook’s famed chocolate cakes. Exotic, delicious, exquisite, the absolute best companion in her work. Nothing did better to relieve stress than sweet, sweet chocolate.

She laughed, with more warmth than she’d felt these past few days. Soon she would be right at home in her workshop, crafting and brewing.

Perfect.

Anna staggered to her feet, brushing away a strand of reddish-brown mane, shrugging off the snowdust piled on her muzzle, and stood more confident than ever, a sure smile upon her face. Off she’d go, to work her mag–

“Good evening, Anna,”

Her sister’s voice appeared so suddenly that it caused Anna to stumble with an embarrassed little gasp, swaying on her hooves.

Elsa was, at any time, a doe of breathtaking complexion, with her majestic silver-blue coat adorned by the purest white mane. On this fine evening, shimmering beneath the lanternlight, however, she looked an angel in midwinter. Her icy blue gaze fell onto Anna, and she smiled.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Elsa said sweetly.

“Oh, hello, Sis!” Anna answered, a little too abruptly for her own taste. Elsa, to her credit, remained quiet, and Anna wondered, not for the first time, how she could possibly manage her composure so easily. “I, er, yes, I needed time and here I am, hah. Fancy meeting you here! It’s not like anyone gets to meet the Archmage on her evening stroll, right?”

Her sister laughed softly, adjusting her saddlebags.

“Indeed, Anna,” she said. “But then, it’s not your usual time out here, is it? I would have expected to find you tinkering away in your atelier at this time, hard at work on some new marvel. I must say, I might just be more surprised to meet you than you are to meet me. So, what brings you to this place?” 

“Well, you know,” Anna said, reflectively. “It… hasn’t been an easy week for me, Elsa. Things change faster than I can work with, and Grandfather… Grandfather, he means well, but I need precious time on my own. That’s not saying I don’t welcome you, though.”

She leapt back up to the nearest outcrop, standing firm against the chill winds.

“I mean, what better scenery to think on, than our humble city eh? Hah!”

“Anna!” Elsa called after her, though without such urgency as she might have, for her sister was accustomed to her daredevil antics. “Be careful,” she chided. “Remember that you’ve yet to master walking on the airs.”

Anna playfully stuck out her tongue. “Pfft, I know that! And really, Sis, where’s the fun in that without a little risk? Would jumping from stepping-stone to stepping-stone on a pool of water be the same if we could just walk on the stuff?”

“You could fall,” Elsa said quietly.

“No, I won’t,” Anna smiled. “Because I know you’ll always be there to catch me.”

There was silence, at first. Then, slowly, Elsa let out a sweet, merry laugh, joined in by Anna’s own guffaws.	

But the merriment cut short when Anna caught sight of two tiny figures sitting in the snow beneath her sister, giving her the most curious of stares.

They were ponies.

Anna stumbled from her pedestal, tumbling into the clearing. She gasped, hooves slipping as if on slush, struggling to focus on the two foals who kept their stares leveled at her own. For the most part, they were quiet, leaving an awkward silence hanging between them all.

“Anna?” Elsa said, finally breaking the ice. “Are you alright? You looked as if you’d seen a ghoul, there.”

“Me? I’m alright,” Anna stammered out. “It’s, it’s just… what’re they doing here?”

Her sister looked at her, confused, before those icy blue eyes of hers widened in realisation.

“Oh, Celestia and Luna?” Elsa said, and both foals turned to look towards her at the same time. It was then that Anna noticed, in addition to their single horn, they possessed a pair of wings, making them look like a hybrid of pegasus and a unicorn. She found it quite unsettling.

One of them, one with a pure white coat, contrasted by its pink mane, approached her with delicate steps, a curious tilt of the head. It was teeny, scarcely reaching up to Elsa’s knee, but unlike any other foal, Anna thought, this one seemed to have grown much faster, if she’d heard it true that these foals had been born only a week ago. The other one, a dark blue foal, its mane a lighter shade of blue, approached her too, with an outstretched hoof.

Anna might have recoiled, but on second thought, recoiling from these small creatures would have been an embarrassment in front of her older sister.

The blue foal – now that Anna thought of it, probably a filly – patted her, timidly, but with the elegance of a curious young fawn. The little foal turned to look at Elsa, as its, or would that be her sibling, sat itself next to Anna.

“Wh-who?” she inquired to Elsa, with a pat or two for emphasis.

“Anna, dear Luna,” Elsa replied, smiling to the blue foal. The foal, Luna, nodded. The other foal, probably none other than the aforementioned ‘Celestia’, looked up.

“An-na?” she repeated, to an encouraging nod from Elsa. There was a light magenta tint to her eyes, lending them an older, worldier look, which Anna realised she found quite fetching, much to her own chagrin.

“She is my sister, as Luna is yours,” Elsa said. The white, older foal looked over to her sister curiously, whereupon the blue, younger foal stuck her tongue out. To Anna’s great surprise, this elicited a fond laugh from her own sister.

“Quite the charming bunch, aren’t they?” she said kindly, when beneath her, the two little foals started to wrestle one another in the soft blanket of snow.

“Er… yes, I think?” Anna replied, unsurely. The blue foal had taken to hiding behind her hindlegs, staring at the white one from between them. The other foal, thwarted, satdown with a pout. 

“Say, Elsa?” Anna gingerly asked, carefully trying not to step onto the foal behind her. “What, what brings you here, Elsa? I uh, don’t suppose this is a usual path for you?”

“There’s somepony they need to meet, Anna,” Elsa replied, pointing a hoof towards a fork on the pathway. Said pathway, Anna observed, led to the West Face of Zamok Ustyag, a pathway rarely used by anyone apart from her grandfather, and now, it would seem, Elsa his Snow Maiden. 

‘Somepony they need to meet…’

The old hermit who resided on Zamok Ustyag was an enigmatic figure for Anna. She had never seen the mare, though her grandfather oft mentioned a withering figure, secluded from watchful eyes. He spoke of her as someone who had seen the time before the Windigos, a time only remembered in hushed whispers and dreams, of a land long faded into memory.

Anna knew, of course, that Sint Erklass thought of Firefly as someone who must have been as old as the tales of Dream Valley.

And it intrigued her.

“Are you coming with us?” 

Once more, Elsa’s voice broke her chain of thought, and she looked over to where her always-refined sister stood, with the foals in tow. A hoof set on the gravel path, an inviting gaze and smile upon her face. And the foals, they too looked her way, pleadingly, as if they wanted her to come.

“I…” Anna said, trailing off in hesitation. It was a tempting offer, she admitted, but still she doubted if time spent with her sister in this foreign abode, spent with this mare, would be worth as much as time spent with her fireworks and her friends in Vologda. 

Her doubts were left unanswered, for the night was still young, and Anna Erklass now felt more adventurous than worried.


* * * * *


Firefly, Anna decided, was a very odd mare.

“Lonesome night,” Firefly commented, leaning forward unsteadily from her wicker seat to give another stir to the contents of her pot, warmed by the soft glowing embers of her hearth. “Winds a’howling, wind like this full of voices, the ancestry yibberin’ at you, yibberin’ stories, more than one of anything, all voices tied up in one… that is truth.” 

The elderly pegasus frowned. “One voice stands apart, disappointed. Drawin’ breath deep in the bowels of this very mountain, a devil in plain sight. Aye, I remember when last I looked upon a devil’s face. Back when, a child helper I brought from afar, from beyond the rainbow. Twas a different devil, then, but driven by alike hungers… Are these two new children come to help again?”

‘These are the ramblings of an old mare,’ Anna thought. Notwithstanding her age, of course, but even her grandfather possessed a far sharper mind. ‘Could she be… senile?’

Firefly even looked the part, really. This mare was so withered, so aged, her colours so faded into greyness, that Anna wondered if one big gust of wind would suffice to scatter her amongst it. Even the longest-lived ponies kept some vestige of their vibrant, vaguely unnatural color.

Elsa, whether she made head or tail of this nonsense, replied. 

“Yes, Firefly,” she said quietly. “They are. This is the moment you have waited for in all your autumn years, since your kinsfolk fell into disarray, and you were invited to live amongst us.” She smiled, just a little. “It is done.”

Firefly stood up, reaching for her cane by the side of her seat.

“I’d like to see them, Your Highness,” the old pegasus whispered. “My eyes are not what they once were.”

Nodding, Elsa gently nudged the fillies forward. Luna looked up at her in askance, but Celestia seemed rather pleased at having received someone else’s attention.

“It’s alright,” Elsa told Luna kindly, “She’s a pony. Just like you. Like your sister.”

Firefly glanced at her. “I take it they’ve not yet seen…?”

“No,” said Elsa, wistfully. “They were born, if that is the right word, as infants are, with their eyes closed. It was not in that cave that they looked upon the world, when three of their brethren at last could open their eyes.” She paused. “Starswirl’s faithful student sent us the call, and we answered. Lilja was the first being whom they saw.”

“Aah… then I am the first pony they’ve seen,” groaned Firefly, her voice reedy, and sorrowful, brushing back a tuft of mane that may once have been blue, but was now so faded as to be almost white. She gazed at Luna and Celestia, the gentility in her stare belying the weight of ages. “Ah, you will discover the world a lot sooner than you may think, little ponies. This here mountain is just a small part of it. And I belong to a world which has had its day...”

Giggling, Celestia sauntered forward, apparently unheeding of the mare’s words. Her pink mane messily flapping behind her, she took a great leap, one that Anna would have envied at such a young age, to jump into Firefly’s lap.

Fortunately, the pegasus was aged, not feeble.

“Oof!” she chuckled, dropping her cane. “You’re a scamp, you are.” She wrapped her forehooves around the laughing Celestia, who eagerly returned the hug.

Still hesitant, the younger filly, Luna trotted forward. Smiling, Firefly made room for her, carefully keeping one forehoof around the older filly while she welcomed the night-coloured child in the embrace of her other forehoof. Luna didn’t immediately take to the hug as her older sister had, but she did nuzzle her forehead to the mare’s chin.

Firefly bobbed them, as much as her worn joints could. “Hm,” she commented. “Bit chubby, isn’t she, the older one?” 

Elsa had to grin. “That’s hardly surprising. You should have been there after Lilja made her return, when we fed these girls. The amount of cake she stuffed herself with, we honestly thought she might explode!”

Adroitly, Firefly’s forehoof holding Celestia reached down to tickle her belly, and the filly gurgled with delight.

“Oh, little one, I could just eat you alive,” Firefly said fondly.

On the inside, Anna felt she should have been touched by the spectacle, of this last mare from a bygone era being granted the chance to, literally, cradle the future of her people in her lap.

But she only saw danger. The unknown. The old and the forgotten. Remnants of a time that had been ancient when Firefly was a foal.

“Are you afraid, dear?” Firefly suddenly intoned.

“Sorry, I must have…” said Anna, wistful. “Drifted off.”

“That’s alright. We all have these little moments, don’t we?” Firefly said, with a mirthful chuckle to follow. “When you reach my age, and are not gifted with the longevity of one like your grandfather, past and present… bleed into one another. Believe me, Anna Erklass, though I may find it hard to remember yesterday, scenes from long ago are fresh in my mind…”

“... I suppose I am afraid,” said Anna. Her sister glared worryingly at her, though she wasn’t sure if it was meant for her, or the two foals. “Your kind, they… haven’t proven themselves, to be stable, nor peaceful.”

“Anna!” Elsa protested.

Again, a look of sadness crossed Firefly’s face. “We had hoped… my friend and I…”

Firefly’s voice did not so much trail off as die in her throat.

“Your friend?” Anna repeated, suddenly feeling a heaviness on her heart. Her tone become a lot softer, and slower, as awareness crept in of how old this mare must be, and how lonely. “Who are you, Firefly?”

The elderly pegasus shook her head solemnly. “I am but a mare named Firefly,” she told them. “Old enough to recall a time when ponies sought refuge in abandoned castles together, yet did not know how to build them to keep each other out. From before we wove clothing as protection against the cold or the sun’s heat, we wove dreams in our home valley.”

“Dream Valley...” Suddenly, Anna gasped. “Wait, old, abandoned castles? You’re… from that long ago in Dream Valley?”

“Of course I am,” Firefly said, almost dismissively. 

“But then,” Anna said, sums racing through her mind, “You would have to be… ancient.”

“What, did you think I was a young filly?” Firefly asked, bemused.

“No, but… but…” Anna stuttered. “This would make you older than any pony alive! Older than we even knew ponies could be alive! How are you…”

“Who knows?” Firefly asked. “A blessing of the rainbow that allows me to carry on knowledge. A final, spiteful curse of that old devil, which lets me stand while my friends withered and fell. It could be either.”

Anna looked the mare over. Considered the things that she must have seen. The evacuation of what had once been the home of ponykind, now a forgotten valley far across the Celestial Sea, beyond the Burnt Griffon Straits that divided Griffonstone and the Dragon Lands. The being from beyond the stars that had come to help. The dread presence of Tirek.

“Ponykind has fallen twice,” Firefly said. “Once, before living memory. Sint knows of it well, although he’d rather not discuss it. Once when we left Dream Valley. I’ve seen it suggested that the Windigos make the third, though they only exacerbated a crisis of our own making. Knowledge has elevated us, yes, but the will to power divides us, and knowledge is a power unto itself… and we all lacked wisdom.” 

Firefly stroked both fillies’ heads as if they were the greatest gifts in the world. Maybe to her, the thought struck Anna, they were. All at once, she began to feel shame at her demand that Grandfather give the fillies away.

“The will to power?”

Elsa was the one who’d spoken. Anna glanced away from the mare and the fillies, gazing with growing apprehension at her sister’s face. Something about Elsa’s tone as she echoed those words, something harsh, knowing, did not comfort her one bit.

“Elsa?” Anna asked. “What’s the matter?”

It came as no surprise for her to see that Elsa was frowning. What did surprise Anna, though, was how quickly the other doe’s expression changed back to its usual placid, composed self.

“Nothing… just the second time I’ve heard that tonight,” Elsa told her.

Calmly, but the sort of calm which Anna knew meant something quite different, coming from the Snow Maiden. She glanced towards Firefly, Celestia and Luna. All three ponies were busy basking in each other’s warmth. Luna tugged at a tuft of Firefly’s mane.

“The Krampus?” Anna whispered.

Elsa nodded indistinctly. “Yes. Who, or what else could have sent those storms? We work tirelessly to keep cold hearts at bay, yet still the Windigos subsist in these lands where the cold is all year-long.”

“Those storms?” Anna shot a quick glance at Luna and Celestia. “That’s how Lilja nearly died last night, bringing in those fillies. What are they to the Krampus?”

“Oh, Anna…” Elsa said softly, wistfully. “Haven’t you guessed?”

She had thought these were mere unicorns, until she saw their wings…

“Alicorns?”

Elsa’s eye shone faintly. “Delivered into this world, at the very moment three ponies from the tribes made peace in a winter-beset cave. When the magic of warmed hearts beat back the Windigos.” She paused, contemplative. “Yet not all is well, not yet. The Krampus yearns to be free, to reveal to us all what it sees as the one, awful truth…”

“Elsa,” Anna said, trying not to speak too fast, not knowing if it was impatience or curiosity which hurried her along. “Why alicorns? Why do the ponies need to build this newfound ‘peace’ of theirs on erasing their differences, rather than embracing them?”

“Because Grandfather believes that these filly alicorns shall grow up to carry the Sun and the Moon.” Elsa breathed in. “And when that happens, their light will shine so bright, the Krampus shall never again be able to bring endless winter.”

Firefly laughed. “Little dots of light… stuck on that big blue thing…” 

Both Reindeer’s ears perked up in surprise. “Excuse me?” they said in unison.

“Nothin’,” Firefly said cheerfully. Anna thought some of the usual vacancy seemed to have returned in her posture. “Just tellin’ the girls, that’s what fireflies really are, akin to tiny, tiny stars, because you know, stars are really, really big, really… just like these little ponies are gonna be really big one day. Bigger than any pony in heart and body.”

“Anna?” Elsa suggested. “What say you we have a toast to that?”

“To what?”

“Why,” Elsa grinned mischievously, “to being big.” She had left her saddlebags by the door. Until now, Anna had forgotten all about it, and its mysterious contents.

Mysterious no more, she thought with glee, when Elsa revealed it to be filled with chocolate cake, made only with the most exotic chocolate, brewed to perfection, as they should be.

With barely restrained joy, she accepted Elsa’s offering on an outstretched plate, smacking her lips excitedly.

“Oh Elsa,” she said, giggling. “How thoughtful of you!”

“How could I forget your fondness for these, Sister,” replied Elsa, smiling. “Can’t have a gathering without some snacks now can’t we? Enjoy.”

“Well then, Princess,” Firefly replied, smiling. “I suppose it falls unto you and Elsa to guide these little rascals, of course.”

“Perhaps,” said Anna. She smiled, as she lifted up her plate. “To your good health, Firefly.”

Before she could eat her precious, chocolate-filled delight, however, little Celestia hopped onto her lap – and snatched her piece.

“HEY!” exclaimed Anna. “Give it back!”

Celestia shook her head, wrapping her hooves protectively around her loot. Her tiny horn lit up defensively, or as defensive as a barely week-old foal could muster. 

Aggressively, Anna reached out a hoof, huffing.

“Listen here, you,” she hissed. “I’ve had a less-than-stellar week, and I would very much appreciate it, young miss, if you would… give... it–”

Her words died in her throat when, in one, giant gulp, the cheeky little foal devoured her ill-gotten slice whole. Celestia giggled, stroking her tummy, a trickle of chocolate staining the corners of her mouth.

Anna was incensed. She stomped down hard, advancing towards this impudent girl, the air slowly lighting up with her aura. 

“Why,” she growled, “you stuck-up, entitled, scruffy, pinheaded–”

“Anna, that’s enough.”

Her sister’s voice brought Anna back unto reality. And she recoiled at the sight of her uncharacteristically livid sister, and the frightened look Luna gave from behind Elsa, and Celestia curled up in a tiny ball. 	

But before Elsa could blurt out one of her very rare, very lengthy lectures, Firefly spoke up.

“Elsa, please,” she said, calmly. “Do not weigh yourself upon Anna, she’s had enough on her plate as it is, my dear.”

“But–”

“I know you wish the best for your sister,” the old mare said, firmly. For Anna, this was the most sober she’d heard her, and it was uncanny. “But do not force your thoughts onto her. Let her see for herself, and think for herself. I’m sure you’d be much angry if someone were to take your own slice, wouldn’t you agree?”

Her weathered gaze fell onto Anna, and suddenly, the Reindeer princess felt very, very small, a guilty child caught out by her parents.

“Firefly, I–” she began, but Firefly dismissed her, chortling.

“It's alright, dear,” she said, reassuringly. “We all hold our own prejudices, and I do not blame you for your fears. We have our secrets too. But, I hope you, and Elsa, will be able to guide the little princesses on their journey."

She shuffled closer to Anna, an outstretched, comforting hoof. The doe looked on over to her sister, who looked somewhat lost.

“I need to go,” Anna finally said. “Not, not outside but… I need time.”

“That’s fine by me,” Firefly said, quieting Elsa, who had opened her mouth. “Take your time, I’ll be here, with your sister.”

Without another word, Anna left the room.


* * * * *


Petty. That was the word. 

Even at her age, a full-grown doe, a Princess of Adlaborn, Anna realised she was still quite petty. The filly knew no better, and to punish her over a small piece of cake was unfathomably petty.

There she was, drifting from room to room. Firefly’s abode wasn’t grand nor filled with bygone treasures as she had hoped. Nonetheless, it had a certain touch to it which testified to its owner’s age. It was carved out of Zamok Ustyag’s rocky slope, a small dwelling compared to the castle perched high up on the peak, but Anna could feel its many years as she traced a hoof alongside the staircase, its twisted, rocky design a harsh contrast towards her grandfather’s castle.

Nevertheless, it felt like a home.

The staircase, she found, led to a small room at the very top, with an intricately carved wooden floor, and bookcases stacked against the circular walls. A delicate, firm wooden table, lit by a candle, sat in the centre, lined with soft cushions.

With a heavy sigh, Anna collapsed unto one, resting her muzzle against the table.

Firefly was kind enough, yes, if a little senile and odd. A single mare would not make a difference, though, for Equestria remained divided, squabbling, even after the birth of these two foals, these two innocent, enigmatic foals.

She was petty, and her sister’s disappointment saw to that. But Anna knew better, for the impudent foal had deprived her of what comfort she had these past few days.

Some shining example she was, to explode in anger over such petty matters.

Her back-and-forth thoughts were interrupted by the shuffling of hooves, the ruffle of feathers, and the clinking of plates. Anna turned round just in time to see a little blue foal drag a plate with her, stacked with, she gasped, a few slices of chocolate cake.

Luna panted, leaning against the nearest bookcase, before her gaze locked with Anna’s own.

“... Hello?” greeted Anna.

The blue foal said nothing, merely nudging the plate closer to her, and pointed a hoof at a slice.

“Cake?” she murmured.

Anna smiled.

“Cake.” she replied, and in one swift motion, she dragged the plate and Luna closer to her. But before she, and little Luna, could eat together, another interruption came their way – in the shape of Celestia climbing up the staircase.

“So-rry,” the white foal said, ruffling her feathers. And with a spark of her horn, she levitated yet another plate, with a slice on top.

So very young, and already able to walk and talk, fly and use magic? What other talents did these two have hidden? Were they also gifted with the earthponies’ powers over the soil, the plants and the beasts of the field? A vision of freshly-grown sodium and saltpetre crossed her eye, of what spectacular fireworks she could make with assistance from children such as these…

Except, of course, that underage children shouldn’t go anywhere near fireworks. Ah, well. Maybe that would have been hurrying things along, anyway.

“That’s alright, little one,” Anna said, not unkindly. “Come.”

And Celestia did.

They ate in silence, the quiet night and the candlelit table their company.

Until Anna finished, turned, and saw the Snow Maiden watching them quietly. She looked over them, a kind look upon those icy blue eyes of hers.

“Care to join in, Elsa?” asked Anna, and the other doe obliged, smiling.

“I’ll be happy to do so, Anna,” she replied, fondly, as Luna nuzzled against her. “How are you feeling now?”

“Well… worried, still,” said Anna. But a look from Celestia, an innocent, yet thoughtful look, gave her heart a flutter. “Still, I am sure that they’ll turn out alright, what with you around.”

“What with us around, of course.” Elsa corrected her, softly. 

Anna laughed, and all was good, then.


* * * * *


The message carried across the winds, borne aloft by the warmth of it what it beheld, now fearing no hindrance from the deathly cold which for too long had besieged the world. It travelled down South, past the remains of the Coal Realm, rendered dormant and quite peaceably devoid of life since the capture of its erstwhile master, past the mountains of where it was said “here be dragons”, though no dragon had ever come forward to claim residence, not that any dragon would bother with a formal claim, and further down yet, into the lands of ponies. There, in the heartland, did it split into a triptych, and pursued its way into three different directions.

One piece blew forth to the nebulous East, into the lands of the pegasi.

One travelled on to the fertile grounds of the South, home of earthponies.

One swerved sharply towards the coast, ever the region of the unicorns.

There did this last of three messages, all the same, find its destination in the hooves of royalty.

“It is well done, then,” said Princess Platinum, reading through the contents of Sint Erklass’ missive once more. “As we agreed upon with our newfound countryfolk, the two sisters shall be raised, until they are of age, in a place of safety.”

Stepping away from the windowsill, through which she had watched in silence as light snows continued to fall and melt in her father’s courtyard, she folded up the letter.

“Clover still tells me it is for the best,” Platinum said, “and so long as I back her up, she’s got Father’s ear on the matter. But you know he won’t so easily change his tune about one thing. Until all is settled, we require leverage over the other two tribes. In all honesty, cousin, I believe luring Starswirl back from exile is what he hopes for most.”

Picking a grape from a nearby bowl and eyeing it critically, Polaris, Duke Blueblood, shook his head.

“The old stallion made his reasons very clear, before leaving,” he commented ruefully. “Harmony, as an ideal to strive for, not just amongst ourselves as unicorns, but all ponies. No doubt he’d welcome the arrival of these unusual fillies… only…” Blueblood sighed. “We have a long way to go, isn’t that right, Platts? Already now, back to scheming and conniving, calculating which of our three gifts the children will like best when we go visit them on the Summer Solstice…”

“That is, supposing there shall be a Summer Solstice,” said Platinum, blowing her cheeks. “Although Clover, my ever-so sagacious advisor, may speak of how the Great Work begins, we are not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot.”

Blueblood smiled at her appeasingly. “And yet, my dear cousin, we’ve been given cause for hope, if you could find it in yourself to have a change of heart and persuade Uncle of the wisdom of this enterprise.”

“That might be so…” Slowly falling silent, Platinum laid down the letter by the bowl of grapes, her horn alighting timidly to pluck one as her royal cousin had. It sputtered and died, grape falling back into the bowl, as her thoughts overtook her.

“Platts?” Blueblood asked quietly, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “You look concerned. More concerned than about simple politics, I mean. What exactly is the matter?”

“I’d have liked to see them again,” Platinum said, her hooves laid out on the table, upon which she was staring down. “Those two extraordinary fillies. But that is not for me to do, not while there’s so much work left to be done, way down here. Months to go before the Solstice, and still I envy you, Polaris.”

He might have tried smiling again. Instead, he laid a comforting forehoof on her own.

“Don’t,” Blueblood told her gently. “Chances are, even given what may change for the better until then, this won’t be a visit purely for the sake of family and friendship. Uncle’ll want me to follow his political mandate, in whatever small capacity I can wrangle, as expected of a loyal Prince of the Realm.”

Platinum nudged him in the ribs, though it was half-hearted. “Of course. And I imagine the newfound chance to test the waters for your exotic tastes has nothing to do with it? See if the Allfather’s granddaughter, this mystical Snow Maiden of his, is as otherworldly beautiful as the tales tell she is.”

It provided her some delight to see him flush at that. “Why, Princess Platinum,” Blueblood said in a tone of assumed straight-lacedness, “such behaviour would be most uncourtly!”

Platinum chuckled lightly, picking the decanter which the butler had earlier left on the table. “Have no fear,” she said, pouring him a glass, “I have it on good authority, the Reindeer do not hold with the same fusty rituals of unicorn courtship.” 

The princess gave Blueblood a teasing wink.

“Theirs is a different culture, my friend. If you can pluck the courage to ask a girl out, just ask her. You’ll quickly know whether you’re looking up a one-way path or not, no pointless side-tracks.”

“And how do I know?”

“That’s for you to decide,” Platinum concluded, heading out with a sweep of her newly-tailored red-blue-and-yellow dress, symbolising the future unity of Equestria. “Although, a word of advice, cousin. Remember that up there, nose-kisses are the norm.”

“I believe I could grow to like it up there,” Blueblood said, a slight smile on his face.
> II - The White Prince
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



II


The White Prince





* * * * *



It was on the last day of Winter that Anna Erklass finally decided, for all the burden it placed on her people to keep these two little foals safe and sound, they were indeed worth keeping. Of course, she couldn’t have possibly smuggled them out and let them be. They were an annoyance at worst, but Grandfather had been right. Who else to raise them right, if not her family?

These thoughts were broken as little Celestia tugged at her tail. For the past hour, she had been laying there, observing the paintings hung on the wall as Elsa nimbly chased after the energetic foals in her attempts to feed them.

“Anna?” she asked.

“What is it, dearie?” Anna replied, smiling.

“What’stat?” the foal said, a hoof outstretched towards an innocuous flask, set on the table.

“Oh, that?” Anna said. “That’s a little brew Lilja and I made, Celestia.”

The green, viscous liquid within the flask had been brewed for many weeks, a project by her and Lilja for, ostensibly, scientific research.

But what good a project would do, if it wasn’t demonstrated first? 

“Anna, please,” Elsa sighed tiredly. “Sometimes you’re as much of a hoofful as these fillies. How many times have I asked you not to bring your concoctions with you to the dinner table? Someone might forget to read the label and make a…  gut-churning mistake.”

“Sorry, Elsa,” Anna smiled crookedly, saying what she’d said so many times before, in response to what her sister had said so many times before. “You know how I am with these brews. It’s like a griffon taking out their sword, I can’t hold it back until it’s drawn blood.”

Elsa pulled a face. “Some fine ideas you’re going to put into the children’s heads when they’re barely a year old, sister. Eesh, one moment you’re unhappy at ponies’ bickering, the next you’re fawning over tools of war.”

Luna tittered.

“What?”

“You said ‘fawning’,” Luna giggled.

It wasn’t like either of the Reindeer hadn’t heard that one before.

“Can try?” Celestia asked, pointing to the flask while Elsa turned her attention back to feeding Luna.

Anna laughed.

“No, no,” she said, smile turning into a mischievous smirk. “There’s someone else I’d like to try it on.”

She gestured towards Elsa, who was now feeding Luna a spoonful of alfalfa. Or trying to feed her. The little filly looked positively aghast at the dish.

“You see that, Celestia?” Anna said. “Elsa’s feeding your sister alfalfa, and she herself doesn’t even like alfalfa.”

“She need to,” Celestia replied, tilting her head.

Anna had to sigh at that. Of course, treating Celestia as the older child would lead to this line of thinking in her young mind. She had to nip it in the bud before one child became a goody-two shoes. Time to pull a trick.

“Celestia, please,” she said softly. “Help Luna.”

“But green is good!” Celestia replied earnestly.

“I know, I know,” Anna replied. She patted Celestia on her back. “But… you never eat your alfalfa, Celestia.”

The little foal gasped. Anna smiled mischievously.

“Now now, Celestia,” she replied, voice lowering to a conspiratioral whisper. “I won’t tell Elsa… if only you’ll help me with this? Just don’t drink it, alright? It’s stickier than fudge.” 

Gently, Anna lifted the flask, and pushed it into Celestia’s forehooves. Celestia looked at it curiously, testing its weight with one hoof, then stared back at her.

Not so subtly, Anna pointed at Elsa’s own forehooves.

The filly, catching on, beamed and nodded, innocently placing the flask back on the table. Only, as Anna noted, Celestia used her aura to do so. It was remarkable. Like Elsa had pointed out, both fillies were merely three months of age, with Celestia the physical equivalent of a two year old, and Luna a year younger. But they were able to walk and talk, and each had a fairly solid grasp of unicorn magic.

Two areas of ponykind’s abilities still remained for them to chart out, however. One was the force of the earth, which was so elusive in a land perpetually covered by ice and snow, to Anna’s occasional regret, given the challenge which it posed to her craft as a chemist. And the other was…

“Luna. C’mon,” Celestia said. “Eat greens. Make you strong. Can fly in the sky.”

Elsa stared her way gratefully. “Yes. Yes, that’s right, Luna,” she said, holding the spoon back to Luna’s mouth. “You wanna fly, don’t you? Like a big strong dragon.”

“Like Reindeer,” added Celestia.

Anna coughed, sensing where this was going. “Well, maybe not like every Reindeer,” she said modestly. “I’ve... still got to get the hang of that. Elsa’s the expert when it comes to flying, right?”

“It’s not flying,” Elsa corrected on instinct, “it’s air-walking.”

“Same difference,” Anna shrugged.

“No, it’s not,” Elsa said crossly. “It’s got as much to do with using wings to fly as those death-defying leaps you do along the mountainside have to do with hopscotch. You gotta make your own path in the airs, or you’ll be sent tumbling back down.”

“Whatever that’s supposed to mean,” said Anna. “Something to do with us walking along the currents of stardust or something, cos’ that’s what our Grandfather himself was sired from… I don’t know, it all sounds like mumbo-jumbo to me.”

Both fillies stared at the does, then at each other in confusion.

“See?” said Anna. “They don’t get it either.”

“And that’s why you’re not their teacher, Anna,” Elsa sighed.

“Oh, alright then, Miss Educational,” Anna said, making a show of pouting. “Tell me, if you’re so smart, why don’t you show us how it’s done?”

Elsa blinked. “I don’t think now’s the best t–”

But Anna pulled her aside. “C’mon, sis,” she said. “Don’t you want to see the looks of wonder on their darling little faces? And besides,” she added, whispering into her sister’s ear, “once you’ve got Luna’s mouth all agape, you can make her swallow that spoonful, no problem.”

This got Elsa thinking. “Alright,” she agreed. “Just to delight all the kids here… That includes you, by the way.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Anything to help your problems go away.” Anna paused, thought a second, then whispered again,  “Elsa, will you do the dance along the walls? Please? The kids love that one.”

“Fair enough…” Elsa said composedly, turning to address the fillies. “Very well, if all of you could sit down? Then I shall begin.”

For a change, all three obeyed her without discourse. But Anna spotted Celestia nudging Luna, with a meaningful glance at the table. Decidedly quick on the uptake, Luna seemed to grasp her meaning the moment she spotted the flask. Fortunately, Elsa was too wrapped up in mentally gearing herself to see what was coming her way.

The dance took off slowly.

First, the room appeared to grow a little darker as, although no windows were left open in Sint Erklass’ castle upon this cold night, here at the top of the world’s highest mountain, candle-light dimmed as the flames blew in a phantom gust, drawn towards the Snow Maiden as she sashayed.

Accordingly, the airs around Elsa Erklass began to glow, as if she were shining with an inner light. The base of her hooves turned a brightest white, an ethereal current snaking into the stone floor, now rising in specks of what might be taken for pure, golden dust…

Stardust. Everywhere there’s life, there is stardust.

Despite herself, Anna swallowed a small gulp of reverention awe at the sight. She did not even turn to see the fillies’ reaction. Better that she be surprised and see what they did next, after witnessing this.

Countless golden motes of dust, made visible by Elsa’s art for the purposes of tonight's spectacle, thus swirled and billowed, coming so close together they might have been mistaken for one, solid surface – like the rings of planets, shaping into an incline which rose from the floor to the ceiling like a spiral staircase. It stretched through the length and height of their dining room.

Elsa, her eyes closed in concentration, traced one of her forehooves in a circle, then one hindhoof, followed by the other shimmying across the smooth floor. As her warm-up reached its apex with a twirl of her hooves, the Snow Maiden leapt forward, with seeming effortlesslness, onto that golden, swirling incline of light and air.

It was a gentle, elegant leap, much different from Anna’s own energetic stunts on the rocky outcrops. When Elsa landed with nary a sound upon the gossamer spiral, one would have trusted her to display the same subtlety if she had taken the jump from a great height.

Smiling demurely, Elsa pranced – there was no other word for it – upon the intangible bedding she’d made for herself in the airs, at ease as any deer in a meadow.

They watched the Snow Maiden perform this elegiac, four-hooved ballet which Anna, scrounging from some distant memory, recalled was known as the Dance of the Seasons. Not that she’d ever thought of it by that name. To her, it was the dance of her beloved sister, the Snow Maiden. The wall-to-wall dance.

… And at this moment, it made Elsa a prime target.

“NOW!” she cried out, and the two little alicorns obliged.

Elsa whirled around, surprised, but too late, as tendrils of the sticky paste shot out the flask, guided by the alicorns’ magic. Though their magic was primitive and poorly co-ordinated, the paste itself was more than up to the task, smacking into Elsa with such force that she splattered onto the ceiling.

From one moment to the next, the Snow Maiden’s position had gone from graceful and ethereal to the butt of a practical joke by her sister.

Coughing and spluttering out Anna’s green mystery paste, Elsa blinked several times until she’d cleared her eyes, only to discover the paste had rapidly solidified to encase all four of her hooves, neat as you please, sticking her upside-down.

Her cries were drowned out by the giggles of the three children below her. None more childish than her unregally amused sister.

“Gotcha!” Anna wheezed between fits of laughter. “What a shot!”

“Anna!” Elsa growled, her red-faced head swaying as she pulled helplessly at the paste covering her forehooves. “What in the Sky’s name d’you do that for?”

“Oh, Elsa, you silly doe,” Anna replied merrily, wrapping the fillies in a protective embrace. “It’s all in good fun, right? I told you I’d help you make your problems with feeding them go away!”

“Da,” little Luna spoke up, while her sister nodded vigorously.

Both of them were obviously happy to be off hook from eating their greens, whatever ‘greens’ meant to a herbivorous pony. Anna privately suspected they’d just been troublesome for the sake of it.

“High-five, Celestia, Luna,” Anna said, lightly slapping each of the filly’s forehooves in turn, a complicitous gesture and parody of physical punishment. “That’s your aiming skills tested for the day.”

Still above them,  Elsa shook her head.

“Ugh, this stuff just won’t… let… go,” Elsa groaned, clenching her teeth. She gaving it another tug, which proved no more successfu. “An-NA! Help me down!”

Before Elsa could do more than continue to glare daggers at Anna, the ornately carved double-doors to their private dining room swung open.

Checking her mirth, Anna stood at attention to see in stride the pale doe who’d brought the two alicorns here.

“Evenin’, everyone,” Lilja said, rather nonchalantly.

All else was smothered by excited squeals and laughter from Celestia and Luna, who jumped away from Anna to scoot, nearly stumbling, towards their first guardian and the first motherly figure in their lives.

Lilja was no less happy to see them, her wan features brightening as she welcomed the two fillies into her embrace.

“Laerer,” Anna greeted her. “All better, are you? I knew those cuts and bruises were nothing one of my concotions couldn’t handle, but… I was worried that Windigo had left its icy mark on your heart.”

The older doe nodded, smiling softly.

“Not after the Allfather was done working his magic,” Lilja told her warmly, clutching the fillies. “The Windigoes have no power in Adlaborn, not so long as your grandfather keeps the hearth aglow, Anna. I can personally testify to that. And how’re the girls doing?” she added, tightening her grip around the fillies affectionately. “Remember me, little princesses?”

The loving nuzzle Luna gave her was all the answer she needed.

“Did you take them to see Firefly?” Lilja asked Anna. “I may have had the honor to be the one their eyes first saw upon awakening… But it’s only right that they know the last pony from a more peaceful time.”

“Aye, we did,” Anna nodded. “Firefly does enjoy their company.”

 She felt an old doubt wash over her. 

“But, Laerer, may I ask you something? Do you really think the three pony tribes will accept these children who are neither unicorn, nor of the earth or the sky, but something else? The tribes have barely started learning to get along again.”

Lilja chuckled softly. “Anna, why else do you think they were born in that cave, where three ponies from each tribe made peace, even as the ice claimed them? Sint Erklass saw that star, the Tear of the Lady, burst in half… Two newborns stars for two newborn fillies,, a sign from Faust that her plan was in motion.”

‘Faust’, Anna repeated inwardly. Of course, everything had to be a part of that enigmatic alicorn’s plan, even in the centuries past her disappearance. Faust’s interference in Lilja’s survival, if any, was hardly discernable.

Splitting a star, however, was perplexing.

“The twin stars…” Anna said wistfully. “But, who else could have done it?”

“I suppose that’s a question for another day,” Lilja replied. “At least, the unicorn astronomers claimed it was so. Which brings me to my news, Anna. The three tribes’ delegates are arriving.”

Anna’s ears perked up.

“They are?” she asked.

“They’ve crossed the border, and are on the way to the gates,” said Lilja.

“Then, then, what’re we waiting for? Let’s go!” Anna exclaimed.

She still wasn’t sure how she felt about ponies in Adlaborn, even with the two fillies Lilja had brought. But she didn’t want to miss this. It’d be a shame, a complete embarassment, for anyone to miss out on.

With a twirl, Anna lifted up Luna onto her back, Lilja doing likewise with Celestia, trailing after them.

A long time after they’d left, the lone figure stuck on the ceiling finally realized they weren’t coming back in a hurry.

“I need to scratch my nose,” Elsa grumbled.


	
* * * * *



The snow underhoof felt different here.

“Have you felt it, sir?” Duke Blueblood asked, by way of greeting, the white-coated pegasus in armor who’d drawn level with the unicorn procession.

“Felt what, Your Grace?” asked the pegasus guard.

Blueblood hadn’t caught his name, but he’d glanced from the fellow’s armor - insulated and well-suited for the Winter – that this particular pegasus, as well as many others in their company, hailed from the settlements closest to the Frozen North. Far further North than any pegasi he’d expected to meet, truly.

“The snow, sir,” Blueblood replied. “Not your kind’s work, I presume?”

The days following that miracle night had been filled with hectic arrangement for both Blueblood and his entourage. He stood at the head of their procession, leading a group of some two-score unicorns. Despite her desire to come along, Princess Platinum had agreed to stay where she was, to await the melting of the snow.

The endless Winter that had ravaged their lands for so long was in retreat, and in the first month of this new era, Duke Blueblood was finding the icy landscape before him strangely more welcoming than he once would have.

Just as in the days before, Blueblood would have felt much warier of the pegasi he’d come to meet. Now he saw only a fellow pony travelling with his own people, out to see the strange little fillies who’d captivated their minds.

Blueblood silently contemplated the gifts Clover the Clever had chosen to give to these alicorn fillies, and one in particular. Of all the strange thing to offer to a child, Clover had picked an abacus. But the ‘clever’ epithet plainly stood for something, given Clover’s role in beating back the Winter which had besieged them so long.

A Winter more cruel and unnatural than the one which greeted them here.

“Aye,” said the pegasus. “The snow in these lands comes and goes as it wills. But with the Windigoes gone… perhaps we pegasi can make something out of the barren wastes.”

“And you won’t be doing it alone, I hope, no longer,” Blueblood supplied.

They continued their walk together, their processions merging into one, with Blueblood and the pegasus guard taking the lead. Behind them marched their folk, guards and distinguished fellows, clad in winter armor or caparisons for warmth. Blueblood was no exception, having eschewed his usual jerkin for a caparison bearing the colors of his family, complemented by a thick scarf. On this occasion, his blond mane too was braided, if only to keep up some measure of formality.

The worst was already past in these harsh lands, Blueblood decided. The processions had long since entered the indistinct borders of Adlaborn, following the few markers left by the Reindeer that roamed these lands. Unforgiving tundras had given way for the hardy pines, spruces and moss native to the land of the Reindeer. The further they trekked, the closer the gaps between the trees.

While the forest brought images of wolves, bears, and other hardy creatures lurking beneath its shade to the mind of Duke Blueblood, there was a strange warmth here which the unconquered forests of his old land did not bring. Evidently, from the way their group began to mingle and huddle as they walked, he was not the only one who thought so.

He saw a shimmering light etched in one of the trees nearby, and smiled.

“See here?” Blueblood said aloud. The procession stopped, and stared to where he pointed. It was a stylised snowflake. “The Mark of the Snow Maiden. We’re close, my fellow travelers.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed!” a pegasus bemoaned. “But how’d you know? Are you really sure this isn’t some earthpony trick?”

Blueblood rolled his eyes. Nothing changes overnight, and yet they had picked the most open-minded of their people for this excursion. Days of travelling into unfamiliar territory had put a few back on edge.

“Earthponies? How could they have arrived first?” asked a unicorn, one of Clover’s fellow students. 

“Earthponies are hardy enough as they are,” the pegasus captain spoke. “They may have well have arrived a week before we set out. Besides, look.”

The captain pointed. Blueblood spotted a lone stag. His coat a rich dark brown, the stag stood there, silently, grey gaze washing over them. Slung across his sturdy back was a quill full of arrows, though Blueblood saw no bow to go with them.

Blueblood took a step forwards, and bowed.

“To whom do we owe the honour?”

The stag said nothing, at first, continuing his silent observation. “Duke Blueblood, Captain Stormbreak,” he spoke aloud. “We have been expecting you.”

He turned to leave, without giving his name. Blueblood and the pegasus leader looked at one another. Without further hesitation, they followed in the stag’s wake, keeping a fair distance away from one another. So they went, quiet in their trek, with only the sounds of cruncing snow beneath thems, and the accompanying wind.

The trees here grew taller, and winding, tested by the biting winds. Icicles hung from the branches, and the snow piled up high. Winter this far North always had lasted longer, with no one to watch over its freezing touch. Yet, the first bloom of Spring bloom had now come to the far off Griffish Isles, and the first new settlements on the Eastern Coast.

Blueblood glanced back, at his followers, and Stormbreak’s people too.

The unicorns and pegasi, the gentry and the scholars and the soldiers, going together as one, to both lead and protect. And with the hardy earthponies, so their homes would stand tall and firm.

With the Reindeer’s guidance too, of course, until the time came for the two little alicorns to claim their place in this world.

‘Speaking of which…’

He paused a moment, signaling for Stormbreak to continue and his delegation to follow the pegasus. They gave him questioning glances, but obeyed, the unicorns trusting in the instructions of their Duke and Prince, the pegasi trusting in the easy manner between him and their Captain.

Blueblood let them pass, one by one, until he was given a space to himself.

Even this far North, there was a trace of Spring. He had spied it from the corner of his eye. A small patch of white flowers, drooped down like bells. Snowdrop was their name, and there was beauty in their simplicity.

‘I don’t suppose the Eastern Unicorns have these in their gardens…’

 He knelt down to inspect the flowers perking through the snow. Now, he was no gardener, of course, but he had just enough werewithal to pluck them safely, and preserve their beauty. Just a few stalks and bulbs.

Blueblood’s horn glowed. His golden aura drew upon the snow beneath his hooves, gently melting it into a fluid state that was somewhere between water and ice, which he raised from the ground in thin, delicate strands that rose until they reached his eyes. Deftly, the strands wove together into six sheets of something not unlike glass, chiming in tune to his aura’s glow.

Smiling, Blueblood softly whispered a final spell, crystalising the sheets so they wouldn’t melt again. He picked three of the tough little flowers, and delicately, he pressed them between the crystalline sheets, preserving them.

‘I owe you for that trick, Mistmane,’ Blueblood thought, tucking the now-preserved flowers beneath his caparison. ‘Now… let’s see if the Snow Maiden fancies a gift or two.’

Few had ought but good thing to say of the Snow Maiden, Sint Erklass’ reknowned granddaughter. They spoke of her beauty, her grace, and her prowess in the magical arts. Some even said, perhaps hyperbolically, that she cast the first snow, blowing it into the winds. Others said she was the one being to stand alone against the unforgiving Winter. And still others claimed she was white as snow, or pale blue as the icy shores to the North.

But Duke Blueblood, above all, wanted to know what she was truly like.

With a blissful smirk, he trotted to rejoin the procession at its head, and they continued down their winding path. It didn’t take long at all for the surrounding wilderness to change yet again, as the company came to a halt before a wall of trees.

It was no mere hedge. The trees’ trunks intertwined so tightly and so deeply that none could see what lay beyond. Inscribed upon the wood were symbols, much like those rough-cut carvings that had marked their path to this hidden sanctuary.

At first, none dared to move. Then the stag who’d guided them reappeared, pressing one mark, the mark of the Snow Maiden.

And the wood… parted.

It flowed, like water, twisting and turning, with the creaking of wood and the rustling of the evergreen leaves, to reveal an entrance.

On the other side of this gate lay a snow-covered field, with a gravel path cutting right through the middle. In the distance, illuminated by the faint rays of the Sun shining through the clouds, lay a city unlike any other. A city where each of its buildings were carved and grown, not hammered or chiseled into shape, from the towering pines and firs, their trunks intertwined with crystalline gem-lights

The very people here seemed to glow with their hearts’ call.

None spoke then, too captivated as they were by the sight that greeted them, on this Winter morning. Even Blueblood stood silent, his eyes wide as saucers.

And there in the entrance stood a doe. Tall, light brown, her reddish mane tied into two braids, with a warm smile to greet them all.

She spoke, in a soft, pleasant voice that made Blueblood think of Summer.

“Welcome to Vologda.”


	
* * * * *



A stranger’s view of Vologda must have been that of childlike wonder. Anna had met the delegation at the gates, all silent. So awed were they, it took a solid minute for the stallion at the head of the procession, a white unicorn, to acknowledge her presence and give her a graceful bow.

“My Lady,” said the unicorn. “It’s an honour to meet a Princess of Adlaborn.”

He reached for her hoof, taking it into his, and planted a gentle kiss upon it. And Anna blinked at that, letting out a short laugh.

“My apologies,” she said. “I don’t, ah, usually handle these matters.” 

She gave an acknowledging nod to the pegasus Captain. He was dressed head to hoof in segmented armor, rugged and very much functional. Decorum was never her finesse, yet she knew enough to present herself formally.

“And whom am I welcoming, sir?” Anna asked mellifluously.

“Captain Stormbreak, at your service,” the pegasus said.

The unicorn stood straight, clearing his throat. His white coat was slightly brighter than the rugged, dirty-white pegasus next to him. His eyes were of a light, vibrant amber, and they matched well with his braided, platinum-blonde mane. On his caparison lay what Anna took to be his mark – three golden crowns.

“Duke Polaris of House Blueblood, my lady,” he said, with another nod, and a handsome, flashing smile. “If I must say… Adlaborn is graced by your protection, Snow Maiden.”

‘Hang on… what?’

“Oh,” Anna blurted out. She shook her head. “I… think you must’ve mistaken me for my sister, Duke Blueblood. No… I’m Anna Erklass, simply Anna.”

Though he kept it well-hidden, there was something that certainly changed, behind his polite smile and gaze. Whether it was for the better, or for worse, Anna could not tell.

“Oh, forgive me, my lady,” Blueblood said. If he was flustered, he hid it well, but next to him, Stormbreak suppressed a smile. 

“No, no, it’s… fine, it’s fine,” said Anna, mustering a smile. “First time anyone’s got us confused, really, heh, heh…”

She glanced at the procession behind the Duke. Unicorns and pegasi, yet no earthponies yet. Perhaps they were just late. Still, Anna felt some lingering relief that these were the only ponies she had to receive for now. The two fillies might have grown on her, true, yet the others were…

“Ahem, if I may,” asked one of the unicorns behind Blueblood, a young, chestnut-coloured stallion. “Where are the foals, my lady?”

Speaking of which.

“Ah, right,” Anna said. She’d left them with Lilja and Grandfather, if only to keep the anticipation going amongst the delegates, a piece of theatricality which her teacher and the Allfather had surprisingly approved.

Lilja didn’t seem to have noticed Elsa on the ceiling. Anna wondered if Lilja had even noticed that Elsa wouldn’t be there to greet the procession. Certainly, neither Anna’s teacher nor her grandfather had questioned Anna going to open Vologda’s gates in the stead of her illustrious sister.

Anna was a Reindeer, and sometimes Reindeer felt as inscrutable her as she’d heard they felt to everyone else. She wondered at her own sense of humour, and indeed her family’s.

She turned, beckoning the ponies to join her down this winding path. 


	
* * * * *



A Reindeer village was nothing like any that Blueblood’s kind had built. Vologda was nothing like what any one race had built. Much like the woodlands and tundra that surrounded it, it was a city grown from the hard terrain.

Perhaps grown wasn’t entirely right. No, it was a city carved, nurtured, and grown alongside its people. There wasn’t much he, or Stormbreak, or their procession could say to it. They followed Anna Erklass, sister to the Snow Maiden, as strangers in these strange lands, yet they felt welcomed as one.

They walked in silence. Anna kept quiet, and Blueblood suspected it was to their benefit, so they could take in the sights.

He only saw an enchanted beauty, all around them. The afternoon rays of the Sun illuminated the city, its light reflecting off the many gems that hung from branch to branch. There was snow here, too, piled upon the roofs of these humble dwellings, or shoveled aside. Somehow, though Blueblood didn’t feel cold at all. Vologda, he observed, was a city made of roots and branches. Rows of homes lined each spiralled, twisting path, with each main branch leading to the great pine tree that stood in the middle of the city. Pathways flowed and turned, and curved with the hills, and untouched groves were scattered throughout.
 
The Reindeer kept to themselves, most of the time. There were fawns playing in the streets, chasing after one another, jumping from branch to branch. Young couples sharing a quiet stroll, or old friends meeting one another. Families gathered in their abodes, the warmth of the fireplace spread for all to take comfort in.

Pairs of curious eyes looked at him, and his people, and their winged cousins, while they passed through the central square, the great pine tree looming over it all. Not for the first time, Blueblood wondered if ponykind would ever achieve such harmony of its own.

They followed Anna up the mountain path. Before long, the great city they’d traversed through was but a distant, if radiant sight to their backs. 

Blueblood glanced at Stormbreak beside him. Control of the weather, Blueblood remembered, was always fought between the pegasi and the primordial forces of the lands down South. One of those duties special to a pony tribe, as all of them knew. Yet, even having come together, it still didn’t feel enough...

Stormbreak noticed his glance, and gave him a nudge.

“If I may, sire,” he said. “You ought to save your eyes for the Maiden of Snow.”

Blueblood couldn’t do much but smile, as the Captain pointed ahead.

“We’re here.”

They’d reached the castle gates. The Castle of Zamok Ustyag, a stronghold built from the very mountain. Its stones were engraved with writing, in the old northern languages, giving its rugged appearance some measure of grace. A great tower rose up above the whole, a solitary peak to watch over the realm. 

The gates were large, and heavy, and much like the hedgerow that surrounded Vologda, looked to all the world akin to a messy crisscrossing of wood and stone, woven within one another.

Llike their unnamed guide at the city gates, Anna pressed a forehoof upon a carved snowflake on the gates, where the handle would be.

The gates parted

The procession and their guide entered, their steps echoing through the halls. The castle’s ceilings were far and high, supported by twisted, wooden pillars grown from the carved wood-and-stone floor. Lanterns and gemstones provided light, basking them all in that sense of inner warmth which pervaded the city.

They were not alone here. The Allfather waited at the center of the four-pointed entrance hall. The great stag, his coat a rich, deep red and his mane as white as ice, was taller than any being Polaris Blueblood had ever seen. By his side, in the shadow of his majestic antlers, was a silver doe.

His smile was like the very fire of the hearth. “Welcome, Duke Blueblood, Captain Stormbreak.”

Sint’s voice rumbled, with a glee befitting a much younger buck. He bowed.

“Allfather,” Stormbreak bowed in turn, and Blueblood and their entourage followed suit. “It’s such a fine thing to be here, in your presence.”

They stood a little straighter.

Blueblood’s eyes, however, were drawn to the two little foals that emerged from their hiding spot behind the silver doe. The taller of the two, a filly with a coat of purest alabaster and a light pink mane, tilted her head curiously upon sighting him. And the shorter one, a little filly whose coat was a light, pleasant shade of blue, and her mane lighter still, tugged at her sister’s tail playfully.

‘So… these are the foals…’

His gaze drifted to Sint’s right, from where the foals had emerged – and paused upon seeing her, the object of his quest.

Elegant, tall, graceful, Elsa Erklass was a silver-blue doe, her long, flowing mane as white as snow, braided primly, quite unlike his own. Though she looked oddly weary, judging from the look in her icy blue eyes, she kept a tranquil air as  her gaze swept over his companions. 

With a flutter in his heart and a calm, confident smirk, Blueblood realised at that only this could be the Snow Maiden of Adlaborn.

“Arise, friends, arise,” said Sint, interrupting his thoughts. “A rest is much needed, for you all, I’m sure of it… and yet…”

Blueblood followed the Allfathers’ eyes and saw where they landed.

“Anna, dear,” said Sint, his wry grin showing through his imposing facade. He glanced at Elsa Erklass, who gave Anna a rather annoyed glare. “We need to talk.”

And Anna Erklass could only sigh.


	
* * * * *



	So it was that day turned into night, and the Moon shone silver upon Vologda. One by one all other lights were dimmed, from the gems that hung in the branches of the pines, to the candlelight from within each dwelling, large and small. Fawns were tucked into their beds, their eyes shut with the pleasant dreams to follow their sleep. Those few who walked the pathways returned to their homes, their day at a close.

And soon all was calm in the great northern city, with nothing else but the howling of the wind beyond, and the wind chimes to fill the last night of winter.

Yet in these quiet hours, there were still those that stirred in the night. For there at a far-off, quiet corner of the enchanted wall around the city, something emerged from the deep woods. A cloaked, hooded figure, keeping a brisk pace, as it neared the ancient hedgerow.

Clad in a dark, grey cloak, the intruder glanced nervously at its sides, waiting with bated breath, for any predator could still lurk in the darkness outside Vologda.

There were none, and the figure released its breath. It took a few steps closer to the enchanted hedgerow, tracing a hoof the colour of thistle along its edge. It paused, finding its spot, and smiled in relief.

‘Still here…’ the tresspasser thought.

Leaning forward, she whispered a few words, in a very old tongue that predated even the enchantments placed upon this protective wall.

“Come, open up your doors, Winter’s Hearth. Let a friend enter… and blessed be your days…”

The wood parted, the leaves dissolved, and the mare passed through into Vologda. And the walls closed up no sooner had she stepped through, No matter – she had a friend to see. With no sentries around, not in this oft-forgotten side of the wall, her path was clear.

Without another word, nor hesitation, the mare continued her trek – onwards to the great northern mountain.

It was a quiet, tranquil night, afterwards.