The cold did not come quietly. The ponies had been wrapped warmly in their homes when callous calls culled the sky; they heralded the first long night of the Long Cold. While the days sickened black with acrid frost, the ravenous rends of the beasts above carried ceaselessly. There was little for the ponies to cling to while doom lingered above them, calling forth their end.

No, the Windigos had not come silently, and there was no escape.

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This has really felt like a hopeless year. At the last minute, though, I fought to turn things around.

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Hi again! It’s been a while, I know.

This is Colder Clouds. She’s a small one. But if you know me, I lean toward writing succinct, and I feel ‘okay’ at it. I wouldn’t say she’s packed quite as densely as Iridium, but I’ve marked her as a sister story.

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I continue to update Sea Dreams. More than likely, I’ll miss my personal February deadline for it, because depression is creeping back, both naturally and because of work. But I’ll try and write.

In addition, a misaligned overview of my projects (read: what I’ve been thinking about):

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Most of my work is occurring in a greentext writing style, right now. It’s easy to pour out some happy thoughts in green-paced set pieces. I’ll DM you if you’d like to read some things about bats, bits about OCs of mine and friends, Reckless in Training, and maybe my attempts at NSFW/more vitriolic works.

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I had a lot of free time these last two weeks. Took some time off from real world concerns to spend time with pony friends. To celebrate a particular 13th anniversary. To plan for the year ahead, and all the exciting turns pony might take me next.

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The tables of Tall Tale had born bread for as long as ponykind had been around.

After all, it was where the first tables had been hewn, and the first loaves baked.

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Writing a sequel, which you don’t see me do a lot. Here’s a full chapter: rather than fold it into the current one-shot, I’ll probably publish a new story when it’s done. It’s condensed bittersweetness, like I’ve been doing. But I hope you enjoy it.

Burning. Burning. Burning.

Everything I’ve worked for is burning, twisting, falling apart.

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”Did you know that—every year—exactly 3099 ponies report suffering from natural Glowtrot exposure?”

Night Light made his bewilderment known. “How do you know that, Tight?”

The lieutenant merely shrugged his withers. “Sis said so.”

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