White Line Express

“Look at the pretty ice statues, momma…”

The mare paused, focusing her gaze to what her foal was talking about. She was briefly taken by the sight, unsure of what to make of them, at first. But they were indeed statues. Of ponies, more specifically. Each one, made of striking blue and white ice.

Moments passed as she processed the sight before them. The young foal could not see them being anything other than just that. Her mother knew better, however. She knew full well what these truly were. And so she turned away, pulling her foal along in silence.

“Come along, sweetheart,” she said, coaxing the filly along with her. “We’ll… we’ll look at the statues later.”

“But momma, they’re so pretty,” the little pink foal complained. “And we’ve been walking for so long…”

The mother shook her head. “Later, sweetie,” she said, biting her lip and looking away. “Later…”

Though the foal protested further, her mother’s beckoning eventually made her comply. For the both of them, there was simply no time to be dallying around outside. They had already come so far. Even now, she felt the sub-zero temperatures leeching through her enchanted, wool-woven coverings, chilling the mare to the core. And with every breath she took, magically filtered through her mask, she could even taste the frost itself lingering in the air. But they had come too far to stop now.

The mare turned to look back at the ice statues as they left. She heaved a sigh, her vented breath instantly turning to mist in the frigid air, and let her shoulders slump. Poor souls, she thought, looking away again. Time stands still, for them…

Without another word, they both trod away from the old town square, where dozens of these statues now stood. A light flurry accented their walk down the street, collecting with the piles and drifts that had formed along the way. The two — mother and daughter — retraced their steps through the snow the way they had first come through, the recent path of parted snow drifts guiding them as they went.

“It’s cold, momma,” the little earth filly complained once more, barely able to step through the deepened drifts of snow.

The mare only nodded, huddling close to her child. “I know,” she said in a quiet voice, barely above the sound of the wind passing through town. She released a wistful sigh, glancing about their frozen surroundings. “But it wasn't always like this.”

The filly looked up at her mother, her beady eyes glinting with curiosity through her tiny visor.

“It used to be sunny, almost every day,” the mare continued. “We only got snow once a year. Then as a community, as friends, we cleared it up at the start of each spring.”

“What’s spring, momma?”

“When the snow all goes away, sweetie.”

The filly tilted her head, trying to comprehend her words. “But the snow always stays.”

“Nowadays, yes. It didn’t use to be like that.”

“Why is the snow still here now, then?”

The mare sighed. “It was before you were born, my love,” she said. “This is… it’s just the way it is, now.”

“But why, momma?”

She remained silent. With a glow of her horn, she picked up the inquisitive filly and placed her on her back, continuing to trek over the snow-deluged road. “Let’s go and get warm first,” she said. “I want to get us there before the next storm hits. You remember how much of a doozy the last one was, right?”

Frowning, the filly nodded, shifting a little to get herself comfortable on her mother’s back. “The wind was so loud,” she said, shivering. Whether it was from the current conditions or from the recollection wasn’t apparent to her mother.

The mare released a wistful sigh. “And cold too,” she added on, glancing up to observe a few rather large icicles hanging from a windowsill as they passed it by. “Colder than mommy’s stew, I bet.”

Her daughter giggled, prompting the mare to smile a bit at her own little joke. “That’s really cold!”

“It sure is,” her mother said, indulging in a gentle chuckle. Even in the frozen land that would chill any average pony to the bone, she was warmed by the innocence of her child. Small comfort in a world so much different than what she once knew.

Now and then, more of the ice statues were seen half-buried in snow along the street, each one locked in various poses. They almost appeared to be frozen in time—a time of desperation, fear, and futility. The mother kept her foal from getting too close to any of them. Now and then, she almost wondered if she’d recognize any of these “statues” herself, were she any braver to examine them closer…

Eventually, the street soon led straight out of the center of town, opening up to reveal a great wide expanse of snow and ice. Scattered houses and trees covered in snow and formations of ice stood here and there, lonely amidst the drifts. In the sky above, flurries fell from the overcast clouds, a little thicker than they were previously. It was — in some sense — a peaceful scene.

But it was what lay in the distance that most interested her.

“Oh, wow…”

The filly on her back shifted, trying to look around her mother’s head. “What is it, momma? What is that?” she asked, still trying to see ahead of them.

Her mother only blinked, turning to look back at the foal. “That’s… where we’re going right now, sweetheart,” she explained, allowing herself to smile, even though it wasn’t visible through her mask. “It’s not much further now.”

“Wow… It’s so pretty!” her daughter exclaimed, finally able to gain sight of the monument in the distance.

“It most certainly is…”

What awaited the two of them was massive, but majestic all the same. A towering structure of what looked to ice at first, but was in actuality pure crystal, glimmering in what little light was available. It bore heavy resemblance to a tree. Though a far cry from its prime, before the Freeze, it was still the most impressive structure that now stood in the tundra. Beautiful, and at the same time, haunting in its own way.

As they approached, the mare noticed a number of hoofprints in the snow. Dozens of them, all congregating around the entrance of the structure. Several of them seemed to wander off in multiple directions. Evidence of travelers? Recent? She felt relieved, and at the same time, excited—if ponies had been here recently, then surely it was as active as she had been told.

Beside the doors was a sign: ‘Welcom to New Ponyvile.’ Unlike the rest of the veritable palace itself, the sign seemed crude. Thrown together from a few spare boards, with the words apparently burned into it. Misspelled words, to boot. Whoever they had make the sign was a little less than capable, to be certain.

The mare approached the door, and was about to knock on it — but to her mild surprise, it started to open on its own. She wondered if the door was motion sensitive, or if there were ponies actively watching and waiting to open it for her. Either way, she was even more hopeful and excited than before.

Which made it all the more surprising when the door fully opened, revealing a pair of active flame-blowers pointed straight at her.

“Hit the deck!”

Not even a moment had passed before the mare unwillingly obeyed, throwing herself to the snow-covered ground and clutching her filly in her forelegs tightly. An instant later, a roar sounded overhead as the fire cannons unleashed themselves on the air above her, barely singeing her coverings as the heat around them intensified. A pained howl suddenly arose from behind her just as instantly. The filly whimpered and clutched her mother tighter, obviously just as shocked and afraid as she was.

The fire soon died down, thankfully, and the mare slowly looked back up. She was panting heavily, scared out of her wits and barely aware of what had just happened. She turned to look behind her, just barely catching the shape of something running off into the distance. The mare didn’t even have the focus to react or respond when a pair of stallions hurried out the door, helping her and her daughter up and quickly ushering them through the doors.

By the time she finally recovered from shock and became aware of her surroundings, the door separating the palace interior from the outside world was shut and locked with a resounding noise. When it did, both of the guard stallions slipped off their own masks, hoof-bumping each other. One stallion — a tall, if fairly lanky one — turned to her, speaking in a fairly-deep voice.

“You can take those things off now, if you want.”

Taking the words as the go-ahead, the mare finally pulled off the mask with her magic, taking in several deep breaths of untainted air at last. She did the same for her daughter, taking off the foal-sized mask and stuffing both into her saddlebag. Both of them sat down and finally relaxed, still shocked from what just occurred but relieved to be safe all the same.

The other stallion — a shorter, stockier fellow — gave his companion a quick jab, laughing. “Totally got the little pest first,” he said, puffing out his chest with a smirk.

“What? No, I got it first,” the taller one retorted, jabbing him in response. “You missed the first time!”

“Oh, gimme a break,” the short one said. “You’re just upset that I scared it off before you could get a good shot in.”

Scowling, the taller stallion opened his mouth to reply, but his companion crammed a hoof in his mouth to shut him up. “Not now, dunderhead,” he chastised, turning back to the mare. “So, looks like you were followed, huh?”

“F-followed?” she said, echoing the guard pony’s word. “But… I was sure that we weren’t. We’ve walked nonstop for a day, and I never heard nor saw a thing…”

“Exactly,” the stallion said, to which the mare’s confusion only mounted. “Icehounds’ll track their prey for miles over days at a time, and they’re really good at not being noticed ‘til it’s too late—they’re pretty much invisible, in the snow. Looks like you and your kid got lucky, ma’am.”

The mare shivered and grimaced, considering his words. She held her daughter a little closer and nuzzled her. The filly — though obviously shaken, as she had not made a peep since their “welcome” — relaxed a little, still opting to stick close to her mother’s side like glue.

“Hope you don’t mind me askin’,” the guard continued. “but where’re you from, miss? Looking at all the snow you’re covered in, I’d say it’s pretty far.”

She looked back up at him, before replying, “I’m from… well, I used to live around here, but I came from Wingstead. Not a very big place, but… it was home.” The mare sighed, clutching her daughter a little tighter. “Was home…”

The stallion winced, sensing the distress in her voice. “Oh, uh… sorry to hear that, then.”

“Wait… Wingstead?” the other guard echoed, turning to look at his partner and lowering his voice. “Eh, think they were hit by something? We haven’t had anyone come from up there since… a while.”

“I dunno,” the shorter stallion whispered back, shrugging. “Report it, then?”

“Well, uh… we’re supposed to, aren’t we?”

“…Are we? I thought that was the other guy's job.”

The taller guard shook his head, then turned back to the mare with an apologetic expression. “Listen, er, miss,” he began, speaking up once more, “we oughta go and talk to our boss about something, but, uh… you can go on ahead downstairs, to the town proper. All this fancy stuff up here is… well, it ain’t for the common folk, to put it nicely. Just tell AJ where you’re from, and she’ll take care of ya.”

“At least it’s warm down there,” the other stallion muttered.

“I… Thank you,” she replied, nodding. The mare smiled a bit, before turning and walking to the end of the hall, where a spiral stairwell led both up and down. Along with her daughter, she started heading down the steps, while the two guards went the opposite direction, up the steps.

“Oh, and by the way… welcome to New Ponyville!” one of them called down to her.

The mother could not help but chuckle. “Don’t you mean, Ponyvile?” she said aloud in response, making her filly giggle.

A dull thwack of hoof-meeting-jaw was heard.

“OW!”

“I told you to check the spelling, idiot!”

“Th-that hurt!”

“Good!”

The filly giggled again, climbing up onto her mother’s back again and clinging to her. “Those ponies are silly, momma.”

“They sure are,” the mare replied, laughing along with her daughter. The two of them continued walking down the stairs, and into the warm and somewhat-familiar embrace of the underground. Into a new, but cozy and well-established place. Safe, warm, and—if what she was told was true—at least had pillows. Their new home. And more than likely, their new chapter in life.

But this is not their story.