“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.
The Apple Core. That’s what this little establishment was called, at least. It obviously bore no resemblance to an apple of any kind, though apples were on the menu quite often. They were a far cry from what an apple of the past looked like, being grown underground rather than on the surface—but as far as everypony in New Ponyville was concerned, they at least still tasted decent. Being run by the famed Apple Family, or what little remained of it in this area, was also a definite plus.
The eatery itself was a dilapidated, homely place, with the walls and furnishings being recycled and repurposed from older parts. Several curios and decorations hung on the walls, accenting an otherwise plain and dirty partition. The chairs and tables, all scavenged from the surface. Almost nothing about this drinking hole—about the entire town for that matter—was constructed from original material in any way. If it couldn’t be dug up from what existed in the land and repurposed, then it simply wasn’t feasible to create.
Near the center of the drinking hole, two mares sat on either side of the bar, idly chatting with each other. One mare’s daughter remained quiet, drinking her own foal-friendly beverage while the adults talked.
“So, this place ya came from… there were a lot of pegasi, there?”
The mother nodded, taking a sip of her drink. “Yes,” she said in a low voice, not making eye contact with the mare she was replying to. “It was set up after Cloudsdale dissipated, so most pegasi ended up living there. My mother was one, actually.”
“Really? That’s pretty neat,” the red-maned barkeeper said in her melodic drawl, wearing a broad smile. “I have a friend that’s a pegasus, too. Haven’t seen her lately though.”
She looked up at her, a wondering expression on her face. “Oh. Where has she been?”
“Out west, helping a buncha other ponies set up a new settlement and all. It’s out and down the Green Line, toward Vanhoover. Or so I’m told, anyway.” She shrugged. “It’s a little quieter here without her, but she’ll probably be back in a month or so. Give or take.”
“I see…” The mare nodded, humming to herself. “You’ve never been outside?”
The barkeep shook her head. “Not once,” she said, and sighed. “Not since everything apparently went bad, anyway. My sis won’t let me leave. Not even on the trains, and those are supposed to be safe anyway…”
Nodding again silently, the mother took another drink from her glass, slowly averting her gaze toward the curios mounted on the wall. The barkeeper mare tilted her head, unable to shake off a strange feeling she was having.
“Say… don’t I know you from somewhere?” she asked. “You look awfully familiar to me. Can’t quite put my hoof on it, but…”
The mare glanced back at her, then looked down, not answering her at first. “…I used to live around here,” she replied after a long pause. “But I moved away before I had my foal. Before the Freeze.”
“Right…” The barkeep shrugged. “Well, it’ll come to me eventually. Ya said you’re gonna be looking for a place to stay here, right?”
Another nod. “Yes… I, uh, already talked to AJ about it.”
“My sis, you mean?” the yellow mare said, and chuckled. “Yeah, she’s in charge of the town around here, more or less. Real overprotective sometimes, but I guess she means well, an’ all that.” She smiled, offering her hoof over the counter. “By the way, name’s Apple Bloom. Real pleasure to meet ya, miss.”
The mare blinked, looking down at the hoof being offered to her. She smiled back, tapping her own hoof against hers in return. “It’s… it’s a pleasure to meet you too, Apple Bloom,” she said.
“Sure hope you and your filly like it here,” Apple Bloom continued, smiling a bit wider. “Nice and safe, down here in New Ponyville. A little boring, but that can’t be helped apparently…”
Their smalltalk carried on for a while longer, until the filly started to finally complain about being tired. Rolling her eyes and chuckling softly, her mother lifted the tired foal onto her back again, excusing herself with a smile. Just as she turned to leave the Apple Core, however, Apple Bloom decided to speak up after her.
“Hey, uh… miss?”
“Yes?”
“Just thought I’d ask, but… what’s it really like up there, now?”
The mother was silent for a few moments. “…Do you still remember what everything used to look like, before?” she finally responded, answering her question with another question.
Blinking in confusion, Apple Bloom nodded. The mare gave her a faint, sad smile.
“Cherish those memories.”
And with that, the mare walked out, leaving her to consider those words.
~O~
Apple Bloom wondered why she was still here. She did so before, was doing so right at that moment, and likely would continue to wonder well into the foreseeable future. She’d more-or-less inherited her older sister’s work at the eatery by now, which nigh-irrefutably tied her down. To say she didn’t like that was a clear understatement.
While she wasn’t happy with her current situation, it did have one upside. Residents and travelers alike regularly frequented this place. Many of the new faces brought stories of their travels, which Apple Bloom was more than happy to extract from them for the cost of a pint. Those were the best highlights of her day, she found; talking with those that traveled from afar.
While not every story was one to write home about, there were several that captured her interest and refused to let go. Most of all were the stories of the infamous White Line.
Sure, there were the mundane hijinks that travelers got themselves in on the Orange Line, or the reckless speed records being set on the fast and narrow Red Line. But it was the White Line that compelled her more than anything, for reasons quite simple to see—its mystery. Every trek and expedition down the White Line, which rode along the old rails up the Canterhorn Mountains, always seemed to end in failure. While most did return from the line the way they came, none of them were successful. One even ended in tragedy, with the train and crew vanishing altogether.
Dangerous, mysterious, exciting… all things that her life lacked, and inwardly desired. And as the date of the latest expedition’s departure drew closer, Apple Bloom was more interested in it than ever.
Her sister was quick to voice her objections, however.
“For the last time, I said no!” yelled Applejack, fuming. “I can’t let you go out there! Just stepping’ out the door is bad enough, but the White Line? That’s dangerous, and you darn well know it!”
Apple Bloom scowled, barely fazed by her sister’s typical temperament. “Well, of course I do, sis!” she snapped right back. “And maybe that’s why I wanna go out there! I’m a grown-up mare, for granny’s sake! Maybe I’m just sick and tired of being treated like a baby!”
“Dang it Apple Bloom, we’ve had this talk before! I told ya, it doesn’t matter that you’re not a filly anymore, these dangers out there are real! How do you think I’d be able to live with myself knowing I let my little sister run off and get savaged by hounds?!”
“Oh, so now this is about you? How you can with yourself about whether or not I get hurt?”
“You know I don’t mean that, darn it! Think about your brother! Your friends! EVERYONE!”
“I think they’d be pretty happy for me that I’m actually doing something with my life, rather than wasting it away HERE!”
“Wh… why, now you listen here, you little—”
A knock at the door interrupted both of them. They both turned to glare at the open doorway, where a tall, sandstone-colored stallion in makeshift guard’s attire was standing. And it just had to be Snails, didn’t it, the earth pony thought to herself, rolling her eyes. Apple Bloom would recognize his dopey, lanky frame anywhere. He glanced between the two of them, seeing that he was stepping in on a clear dispute, and coughed.
“Err… sorry for interrupting,” he said, offering a nervous grin, “but, um… the princess wanted to see you, miss Applejack.”
The earth pony grumbled, kicking at the ground. “Gah, fine,” she said, huffing. AJ turned to her sister again, glaring at her. “We’ll finish this talk later, get me? You get on back to work, now. No grumpin’ about it.”
Apple Bloom only shot her a dirty look in response, watching the older mare stomp out the door as Snails stammered and hurried along to follow her. She didn’t particularly care about what the princess needed her for, but at least it got her sister out of her mane for a while. The mare sighed and walked back out into the open eatery, muttering curses under her breath.
A number of patrons apparently heard their argument, since many of them were staring at her, though they quickly looked away when she looked back at them. Her brother, Big Macintosh, was already over behind the counter, watching her with vague concern.
She paid them no heed, focusing on her own tasks with a grumble. Stupid rules, stupid sister, stupid… stupid! she thought, angrily huffing again. I’ll never leave this place with my sister chainin’ me to a post like this… Heck, she won’t even let me look at colts, now! Seriously, she’s just so—
The mare let out a sudden yelp, her forehoof catching on another’s pony’s dragging overcoat and sending Apple Bloom stumbling across the floor. “H-hey, watch it!” she snapped, whipping her head around to glare at the offending pony. “Darn near made me fall on my face!”
The pony winced, shrinking away from the angry barkeeper. Apart from the coat, she wore a hood that concealed most of her face. Apple Bloom heard her mutter an apology and hurry on her way, quickly taking a seat in the far corner of the restaurant.
Apple Bloom quirked an eyebrow at her. It was not often that she saw a pony that wore such concealing articles, and her anger shifted to curiosity in a flash. “Hey, uh… it’s fine,” she said, offering a weak smile. “Accidents happen, an’ all.”
She heard the mare mutter out a half-hearted reply, but did not stir.
Tilting her head, she walked over toward the table. “I, uh… haven’t seen you before,” the earth mare said, sitting at the table across from the strange visitor. “You new in town?”
The cloaked equine looked down, staying silent.
“Hey, you can tell me. I don’t bite.”
Silence persisted, though the mare soon spoke up in a light, airy voice. “I’m… not from around here.”
“Oh, really? A traveler?”
The cloaked mare was quiet for a moment, before replying, “Sort of…”
“Ooh. Well, welcome to New Ponyville, then!” said Apple Bloom, grinning as she offered her hoof to the stranger. “Name’s Apple Bloom, and I… well, I sorta run this joint, here. Nice to meet ya!”
Silence again. The traveler looked up slightly, almost enough for Apple Bloom to see her face, then looked back down again. The earth pony eventually drew back her hoof, frowning slightly. Not a very outgoing one, is she? the mare noted.
“So, uh… any stories to share?” she asked, mostly out of curiosity. “Where’d you come from?”
“I…” The traveler hung on that letter, thinking out her answer carefully. “…came through the Yellow Line.”
“Yellow Line… huh… That’s the one that comes down from Manehattan, right?”
The mare nodded.
“Wow…” Apple Bloom rubbed her chin, realizing that it had been quite some time since a Yellow Line visitor was last here. “Hey, uh… is what everypony says about the city is true? That it’s been all flooded, and stuff?”
“Flooded and frozen over,” the cloaked mare said quietly. “Like most of Equestria.”
Apple Bloom let out a low whistle. “Huh… Jeez, must’ve been real bad there,” she said, her eyes trailing down to stare at the table blankly. “I had family that lived in Manehattan…”
“My condolences.”
“Yeah…” The earth pony sighed. “But, anyway… what brings ya here to New Ponyville?”
The mare looked away, muttering out, “Just passing through.”
“Right… Takin’ the next train outta here, then?"
She nodded.
“And the next train is…?”
“White Line.”
A hush fell over that section of the eatery. Other patrons turned to look at them with mixed expressions of shock or morbid resignation. Apple Bloom herself blinked, eyes widening at the words. “Wait… you’re going on the line?”
The cloaked mare seemed to tilt her head. “Is that a problem?”
“Well, no, but…” The earth pony shook her head. “Isn’t that line kinda, well… dangerous?”
“I’m told it is. But I have my reasons.”
She stared at the traveler. “And… you’re not gonna tell me about them, are ya?”
An expected shake of the head was the response.
Apple Bloom glanced side to side, leaning in a little closer to the mare and whispering out a final question.
“D’ya know if they’re looking for more volunteers?”
