Walking this path with but twilight to guide me, I look for my place and find only mystery.
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Walking this path with but twilight to guide me, I look for my place and find only mystery.
Neither fish nor fowl his dad had said: Not one or the other. Daliér had never felt that more clearly than tonight. Though the denizens of this ancient longhouse were polite to his face he was certain he could feel their eyes boring into his back as he walked through the herd. Hostile wasn't exactly the word might use to describe their attitude, but they were definitely... remote.
The longhouse was awash with donkeys, far more than he was used to seeing in any one place. It also had a distinct lack of mules, aside from a small knot of them near the entrance and a well-dressed jenny he recognised as a famous chef near the drinks table. Just donkeys as far as the eye could see.
On another day he might have felt isolated by their stares and would probably have found himself leaning against the rear wall with nothing but his father and a drink for company, as he had at so many prior Festivals.
Tonight? Daliér smiled as the jenny at his side pressed herself almost languorously against his shoulder with a gentle sigh and a brief nibble at that spot just behind his ear that always made it twitch so. She chuckled as it responded quite independently of his wishes. Daliér felt her breath against the sensitive hairs at his ear's root as she leaned closer still. Perhaps, rather than anything else, that was the reason for the stares.
"Alba, maybe this isn't the best time..."
"You were staring. I had to get your attention somehow," the donkey at his side murmured with a final flick of her lips against his ear. She straightened up and leaned her head against his, her breath coming out in a quiet little peep.
Daliér slowed his pace lest they stumble as he led Alba through the braying crowd still packing its way into the longhouse. By the time the Festival truly began the majority would be outside again, but before that the floor would be filled to cramped capacity. Daliér didn't want Alba to be caught standing, though she would probably have insisted that she was fine. As he'd expected there was little in the way of seating except for the low wooden benches that lined the stout timber walls of the building. Daliér moved toward them, nudging past a knot of donkeys animatedly discussing some arcane topic he had too little interest in to even recall a moment later.
When they reached a bench there was only enough space for one of them. Daliér hung back as Alba flopped into the gap between an old jack and two vivacious jennies who were currently debating the merits of the asses arrayed before them.
"Guess I'm on the floor," he said. Alba looked at him in confusion and then her eyes widened, shamed and embarrassed.
"Oh Dal, I'm sorry, I–"
"Alba, it's fine." Daliér put a hoof against her leg and then gently seated himself on the floor before her, smiling all the while. "I've sat on far worse in the garden."
Her quiet laughter was more reward than he needed. It was one of the things about her that he just couldn't get enough of. Such a confident laugh, forceful without being overbearing. Oh but he was waxing lyrical again, staring into her eyes like there was no end to them and wishing he would never have to look away. It was–
"You're doing it again."
"Oh. Sorry."
"It's okay," Alba said quietly, turning away again, as if that would hide the blush on her cheeks. "I think it's cute."
They fell silent as the crowd settled into the hall, Daliér leaning his head against Alba's, while she closed her eyes and replied to the contact with a contented hum. Despite the number of donkeys present the sound of the herd had almost completely died away, giving the longhouse an atmosphere of reverence that seemed so at odds with the roughly built structure, an atmosphere Daliér had never felt anywhere else, not even at the Summer Sun Celebration.
Alba was looking about with greater and greater interest as the silence spread across the room. Her ears twitched, then froze in place before moving in an odd way that traced two little circles with their tips. She'd always been self-conscious about her ears, possibly because of how she'd been raised, but that particular twitch was usually a sign that something had engaged the analytical side of her brain. With avid attention she watched as silence fell and an elderly jack in an immaculately fitted three-piece suit made his way across the front of the low stage at the far end of the lodge.
The silence became more absolute as he faced the crowd. The old jack raised his head, eyes closed as he took a deep breath through his nose, before letting it blow slowly between his lips. The donkeys at the foot of the stage groaned quietly and swayed on their hooves, a motion that spread through the crowd until it reached them. He felt Alba stiffen at his side and her breath catch in her throat. A moment later her eyes were fixed on Daliér, filled with questions she'd no doubt be asking sooner or later, first and foremost a demand to explain exactly what had just happened.
Fortunately for Daliér their elderly host had not quite finished. He lowered his head and looked out over the crowd through rheumy eyes that settled on a face here and there for seconds before moving on.
"Tonight," he said, quietly, closing his eyes again. "We remember. Who we were. Who we are. What we have lost and what we have found." The crowd close to the stage began to sway to some unheard rhythm. Alba too was quietly rolling from side to side, her shoulder brushing against his with each sway and her face bearing the most adorably confused expression he'd ever seen. She opened her mouth to speak, to interrogate him on what was happening, but nothing came out. After a moment she closed it again and simply stared at him with her eyebrows raised.
"Tonight we sing," the old jack called out, his voice rising over an unheard melody. "Tonight we dance. Let our lights shine forth amongst the stars."
As one the crowd turned; as if some spell had broken, the hubbub resumed at full volume. Cheery conversations erupted around the longhouse, loud and boisterous and filled with anticipation. The donkeys began to file from the building in twos and threes, chattering excitedly.
Alba flopped on her haunches with an exhausted sigh. She was staring at the stage and the old jack in his suit, who had stepped down to converse with a small group off to one side.
"Dal, what was that?" She looked toward Daliér with wide, curious eyes, pouting just a little. "What just happened to me?"
She didn't seem distressed, merely curious, but Daliér had learned to read Alba's moods by now. She was odd about the way she expressed them a lot of the time, but this one was impossible to miss; her ears kept flapping back against her head and her foreleg would twitch. Smiling, he shuffled over next to her and ran a hoof down her mane, knowing she always found it comforting.
"The others call it the Remembering. I don't really know..." Daliér's hoof strayed to the cravat he'd worn for the evening, toying with the silky cloth at his neck as if it would suddenly come undone. "I've never felt it. Most mules don't feel it, or only a little, but for a donkey it's–" He shook his head and laughed. "I'm sorry. I thought you would have known this already."
"Known what," a deep voice rumbled close by. They both turned to find the old jack from the stage staring at them, frowning and smiling at the same time. He nodded a greeting to Daliér before turning his full attention to Alba.
"Oh, um, Alba– Alba's never been to a Festival before." Daliér stood, and Alba followed shortly, moving close to his side as she stared at the old jack.
"Then, welcome!"
"Thank you, sir," Alba squeaked. The newcomer watched closely as she shuffled on her hooves, his eyes burning with intense curiosity.
"My dear, you move like a pony."
"Oh, I-I'm sorry, I can s-s-stop if you–"
"It is not an unpleasant sight," the old jack murmured. The deep bass rumble of his voice was almost mesmerising, a quiet thunder that vibrated inside Daliér's chest and seemed to shake the very air around them. The old jack smiled at Alba and bowed his head briefly. "For far too long our kind have slouched and sloped beneath the burden of our history, but you do not seem troubled by that. It does these old eyes well to see you carry yourself so."
His head tilted to one side as he spoke and he smiled, but his eyes narrowed as if challenging her. Alba's response was a nervous grin as as she somehow slid even closer to Daliér's side. Sensing her nerves, their interlocutor stepped back and bowed his head again.
"Forgive an old duncan his curiosity, my dear, please," he said with another quiet smile. Alba, blinking hard, nodded her acceptance and returned the smile with another of her own nervous little grins.
"It's okay. I was, um, raised by ponies, so I– I don't really know much about, well, any of this really."
The old donkey's eyes strayed to Alba's forehead. "By unicorns," he said, jabbing Alba between the eyes with an outstretched hoof. "I can see it in your eyes. You have been touched by their magic, bent by their will without even knowing it from a very early age."
"How did you know?"
"Call it intuition," Early replied. He drew himself up and raised his snout. "And now I see you have felt another magic, another power far less and yet far greater than anything a unicorn might conceive. Oh that they could taste..."
His frame shook with a single, powerful laugh and a broad grin split his face. The old jack shook his head, chuckling at some private joke as he continued speaking. "Forgive me again my dear, forgive me both of you for I have been quite rude. My name is Early and I have been presiding over these festivals for a very, very long time. And if I'm not mistaken," he continued, his voice raising in cheer, "you are Slowpoke's boy. Dil Daliér was it not?"
"Dilly."
"Of course. I am pleased to see you do not need to be dragged here by your father every year. We are all of a kind, are we not?" Early pursed his lips, the corners of his mouth reaching toward his jawline as he briefly examined Alba again. His eyes kept straying back to her forehead. "Come, both of you. Alba, I shall show you what this night is truly about. What you have missed in your time as a pony."
Without waiting for response, Early turned and marched toward the great main doors of the longhouse, moving with surprising speed for a donkey of his age. Before long the pair found themselves trailing in his wake as they struggled to keep up.
A few donkeys milled around, propping up the makeshift bar or chattering over drinks and snacks. Here and there Early paused to talk to them, holding a hoof here, resting necks with a jack or jenny there but never lingering in any place too long, as if his eagerness to reach the outside overrode anything else. Perhaps noticing Daliér and Alba's plight, Early slowed his pace as he reached the shallow steps to the door and finally he halted at the threshold, watching them with a gentle smile as they caught up.
"Tell me, my dear, what do you know of our race?"
Alba hesitated at the question and looked down at the floor. "Um... not much at all."
"Then whatever you do know, tell me," Early said as he guided them out into the evening. Alba bit her lip and took a breath.
"Why?"
"I feel it would be enlightening."
"Okay. Um... Equus Asinus Sordida, the, ah, common donkey, thought to have migrated to Equestria with the three tribes. Originated in the Mareabian wastes, most closely related to–"
"That will do," Early cut in. He glanced at Daliér and then looked away to the horizon, where the distant lights of Canterlot were just visible against the black bulk of Canter Peak.
The silence remained as a knot of donkeys shuffled past, their voices low and hushing to nothing as they saw Early standing close. He nodded to them, a congenial smile gracing his features, then turned his back to them and his face to Alba and Daliér once more.
"A very scientific answer. Oh do not take that the wrong way," he said before Alba could lower her head too much. She looked up at Early with eyes that demanded– what? Approval? Guidance perhaps. Early's smile seemed to calm them. "You are obviously educated in science, so it is natural that science would be the refuge you took, but what do you know of us? What do you know of yourself? Your upbringing prevented you from learning even of this time of new beginnings. Now I am sure Dilly here would have tried to explain had he been aware–"
"I was about to," Daliér said, as much to suppress a seed of resentment as exercise it. Early nodded thoughtfully.
"So you were."
They resumed walking, Early leading the couple along a path away from the longhouse and away from the small hill that Daliér had assumed would be their destination. As he looked back at it he could see an old donkey meandering about near the summit: his father, Slowpoke, who had dragged him to this Festival every year since he was old enough to talk.
The warm touch of Alba's snout on his neck pulled Daliér away from his reminiscence, back again to the present and the path they still trod. Ahead and behind he could see more donkeys, moving in twos and threes and groups, but somehow each seemed entirely alone, walking in silence with only twilight for companionship. Likewise Alba seemed to have grown more silent as they walked, though she still held herself close to his body and still breathed in rhythm with his plodding gait.
Early walked ahead of them like a guiding priest, his narrow head held high and steady, his steps firm and sure. They rounded a final bend in the path, passing between the outstretched boughs of ancient, low-set trees and found they had entered a broad, sandy area, brightly lit by torches and teeming with donkeys. The tree-lined valley stretched away beyond it, all the way down to a distant lake that Daliér had never visited. All along its length, amongst the trees and along the narrow river that ran the valley floor, he could see the blaze of lights as numerous and bright as the stars that would shortly look down upon them.
A reedy, warbling tune burst forth from a set of pipes, a few notes played back and forth and suddenly halted and then a few more, as the instrument's owner tuned and tested. The donkeys in the clearing began to mill and move, forming rough patterns that made no obvious sense to Daliér's eyes, but which he was sure had a purpose. A few threw him odd glances, some confused, one or two outright hostile, but most merely interested in the presence of two new faces. Daliér turned to Early, wanting to back away and leave, but the old jack simply smiled and pressed a hoof to Daliér's chest.
"Wait a while, I shall return to you both. First I must..." his hoof waved an awkward circle and he tilted his head toward the crowd. Daliér didn't move; for a moment Early watched him, then with a quiet grunt he turned, shaking his head, and trotted away.
As soon as he was gone Alba turned to look at Daliér. Her eyes danced with passion and excitement and something else, something that she seemed to share with all the other donkeys around them.
"Can you feel it," she whispered. "It's incredible... I've never experienced anything remotely like this, not even–"
Alba's eyes closed, the hint of a tear squeezing out of the corner of one as she turned her head away. "Not even with my friends."
Daliér's jaw worked and he opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it. In truth he couldn't feel anything at all except concern for Alba. She'd never told him much about her past; it had always seemed to trouble her.
Before he could come up with a reply Early returned, grinning from cheek to cheek as he rolled up before them.
"Alba. There are a few here I would like you to meet." He drew Alba away from Daliér's side and led her toward the edge of the crowd. Daliér followed shortly after.
A small knot of jennies waited for them smiling and laughing to one another. One of them eyed Daliér as they approached, giving him a languorous wink before turning her attention to Early and Alba.
"Alba, I'd like you to meet Cherie, Miriam and Genevieve," Early said, motioning to three of the donkeys. They each smiled and nodded a friendly head toward Alba. "Ladies, this is Alba. As I told you she's never been to a Festival before."
"A beautiful name," said the one called Cherie, who had winked at Daliér a moment before. She glanced at him again with an easy smile as she spoke. "Early tells us you were raised by a pony family?"
"I guess," Alba stuttered as Early stepped back and away from her side. The three donkeys surrounded her with broad smiles and had soon drawn her away into the crowd. Daliér felt his heart drop as she left, as if some part of him had been tugged away and cut off.
"She will return to you before long," Early said, keeping his voice low. He took Daliér with a hoof and turned him from the crowd, propelling him toward a low table at the edge of the clearing. "There are things that cannot be taught with words and books, but only through experience and companionship. She is a remarkable soul, unique I feel. How is it you came to know her?"
"She turned up at my employer's door a few months ago completely destitute, at least as far as I can tell. They weren't around at the time so I took her in and got her a job as a maid."
"Now that would seem to be quite a fall, for one raised in such privilege as she appears," Early murmured. He seated himself at the table and motioned for Daliér to join him. "Of course had that not happened, it is likely she would never have seen a Festival, nor learned the humility that is our lot. That, my young friend, would have been a terrible waste."
There were snack bowls spread about the tables, fancy little collections of nuts and fruit filled out with oats or barley. It was one of these that Early abruptly thrust in front of Daliér, not even bothering to ask if he was hungry; he took another for himself and tucked in greedily, breaking the image of aloof nobility that Daliér had formed of the old jack up to now.
"It interests me," Early said between mouthfuls, "that you followed me when I asked. You could have joined your father on the mount to spend the night in the simple merriment he and his companions enjoy each year."
"I followed you because I wanted to stay with Alba. She..." He sighed and lowered his head. "Well."
Early laughed and then swore as he spread half-chewed oats across the table. Grumbling and cursing some more he reached out to try and clean up the mess, but then eyeballed Daliér and shook his head. "She did not follow me, Dilly Daliér. She followed you. It was your decision to come. Do you know why?"
"I suppose you're going to tell me," Daliér grumbled as he toyed with his bowl.
"Of course. I am the old wise duncan with the nice suit and the deep authoritative voice, so naturally I am here to dispense the wisdom and sagacity of our spiritual and temporal forebears!" Early's hoof slammed on the table as he laughed, spilling more of his oats, though he didn't seem to notice. He leaned toward Daliér, grinning at some hidden joke. "You came because you were curious. How long have you been coming to the Festival?"
"Ten or twelve years, I think? Certainly as long as I can remember, but I've never seen this part of it before."
"Of course not. This," Early jabbed a hoof at the crowd, "is a sacred place and a holy rite of our nation. Yet your father, all of earth bless his soul, does not believe it to be so. He comes to the Festival out of tradition, but he does not believe in this place and so he does not come to it."
The old jack sat back on his haunches and stared at the crowd. They had formed into a broad circle, standing still as statues, bodies taut and faces bright in the silent evening. Daliér could see Alba nearly on the far side of the group, sandwiched between two of the jennies she had met earlier.
"I recall many, many years ago, when Slowpoke was still a youngster like you, he came to this place. His folks had brought him to the Festival for many years, but they too did not believe and so they did not dance, or sing. They loved the companionship, and the food and drink for which we are so justly famed, and the tradition of it all and they would sit up there on that hill with their friends and loved ones to watch the lights, but they did not understand. They did not remember."
Daliér paused in snuffling at his snack. "Remember what?"
"Ah, now that is the question isn't it?" Early's laughter was quiet and low as he leaned toward Daliér and jabbed a hoof into his shoulder. "You question, young jack. Question and find answers and if you do not fear them, you shall go far. Now your father, this one year, he became curious about everything that happened beyond his hill and he followed the crowd, to see the lights and dance the dance. He sought answers too, yet those answers, why they terrified him. He ran from this place and never returned to it, but tradition brings him to the Festival every year, where he lurks at the back of the longhouse and gets himself good and drunk so he doesn't have to remember anything at all.
"It hurts him. He doesn't like to remember," Early concluded. He stood, brushed a few crumbs from his suit and set off toward the circle without a word.
Daliér remained at the table, idly chewing on a few nuts though he had no idea when he'd taken the mouthful. There was something about the old donkey, something about the way he spoke. Something about the whole place that touched very gently some part of Daliér's soul, like a whispering voice that was only just out of earshot.
As Early made his way through the rank of donkeys he slowed, looking to his left and right, before moving slowly to the centre of them all. There he stood and turned slowly, looking at each of the donkeys in turn, letting his eyes rest on each face for just a moment.
A drum sounded, a single heavy thud that seemed to shake the ground itself, or perhaps it just shook Daliér's barrel. As it rebounded from the trees Early began to move, walking slowly around the assembly with his head raised high.
"My friends, the lights now shine. As we look to the coming new year, so too do we remember our past. As we recall each new birth." He paused in front of another elderly jack and touched a hoof to his shoulder. The old donkey smiled through watery eyes and nodded as Early moved on. "So too do we remember those who have left us. And as we recall our burden, so too do we remember our blessing."
Again he stopped again next to Alba and smiled at her for a moment before moving on again. "Tonight the stars themselves join us. The mother earth joins us. We remember."
"We remember," the crowd responded as Early trotted around the circle, once again moving with greater ease than his advanced years would suggest.
The drum thudded once, twice, settling into a slow beat that soon followed Early's plodding walk. Somewhere in the circle a donkey pounded a hoof against the ground to the beat, then another, and two more. The rhythm rounded the group until every donkey was stomping along to the slowly rising tempo.
"Let our lights shine," Early called over the thunderous beat. He bowed his head and retreated to the periphery and the shadow while the circle of donkeys stomped and swayed to the steady beat of the drum. A keening wail rose up from somewhere within the group, a voice crying out without any words or meaning except to be heard. And answered, as it was a moment later by a dozen or more voices, their response loud and affirmative.
On the drum beat as another wail rose up, the same voice as before. Again the answering call came, more voices joining in unison. Then like a wave breaking at its crest, a song burst forth from amongst the assembly, a great chant, long and slow and full of pain and longing and joy and hope. At first the sheer noise of it washed over Daliér, but as he tried to listen to the lyrics he realised the words were alien, guttural and rough, a language he had never heard before.
Amongst them a familiar voice rose, shivering and nervous. Alba's eyes were closed as her halting words joined the chorus, her body swaying and turning in time with the beat.
Someone let out a shrill cry. For a moment Daliér thought there had been an accident, but then he saw a donkey – one of those Alba had been introduced to earlier – leaping to the centre of the circle, limbs flailing and her head thrown back as she laughed and hollered. Voices called out or joined her laughter as she cantered and pranced around the clearing. She was soon joined by another two, a jack and a jenny, and the three bounced around the ring of donkeys in a fevered, frantic dance that Daliér almost couldn't follow.
Their exuberance was short-lived and they soon rejoined the circle, panting and chattering to their companions, only to be replaced by more as the dance wore on. Daliér's eyes were drawn back to Alba, still shuffling and singing along with the rest, but now her eyes were wide and bright, locked on the dancers. Now and again she would lick her lips or her back legs would twitch awkwardly.
"Fascinating, isn't it?"
Daliér's head snapped back at the sound of Early's voice. The old jack was seated at the table again, both hooves resting on its worn surface as he faced the dancers. He leaned a little toward Daliér and lowered his head, giving the younger mule a good close look at him; Early's coat was soaked with sweat, shining as if newly brushed, and his eyes seemed to be focussed somewhere.
"She has never spoken a word of that song before tonight," he said, keeping his voice low so that Daliér had to lean close to hear him. "She remembers."
"You keep saying that, but–"
"It is not yet for you to know." Early grunted and looked down at the table as if noticing it for the first time. He smiled, his eyes tracing along the grain before he looked up at the dancers again.
"Because I'm a mule?"
"No," Early replied, laughing quietly and shaking his head. He turned bodily away from the dance, facing Daliér, one foreleg leaning on the table to support his weight while the over flopped at his side, limp and abandoned. "Watch her a moment."
Reluctantly, lest the old jack disappear into thin air if he was unwatched, Daliér returned his attention to Alba. She still watched the dancers, her head bouncing to their rhythm whilst her ears moved through the same little dance of their own, tracing circles and occasionally flicking back toward her neck. For a moment their eyes met. Alba's lips turned up in a shy smile.
"She is fascinated by the dance, but like your father she fears what will happen when she joins in."
"What am I supposed to do about that?"
"Dance with her."
Daliér closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I can't dance."
"Neither can she. And neither," Early said, rising to his hooves, "can I. But that does not stop me. Go to her, Dilly. Help her remember."
In the following days he would wonder why he did it. He could have stayed and watched Alba overcome by her fear, or he could have left her. In the end going to her was the only choice. And so he did, leaving Early standing by the table and trotting toward the circle of donkeys. To his surprise they didn't reject him, but instead parted, welcoming him with their smiles and the shift of their bodies.
He didn't join the non-stop shuffle but pressed on, ignoring the dancers that whirled past him left and right. He was almost upon Alba before she noticed him; the smile dropped from her face and her eyes grew wider than he'd ever seen them, filled with fear and wonder in equal amounts.
Her smile returned as he leaned toward her, nervous, shivering. Alba licked her lips and swallowed as he led her out into the circle, keeping his head close to hers. Voices rose around them but he ignored their whooping calls and kept his eyes only on Alba.
"Dal," she whispered. "This isn't–"
"Hush." He smiled and pressed his lips to her snout. "I have no idea what I'm doing. Just roll with it."
He backed away, bowing formally. Alba mirrored the action and they began to circle the clearing, facing one another but always moving. After a few steps he felt his leg twitch, a nervous energy filling his body. He had to run, to leap, to do something. Alba had resumed her singing and the words, though utterly alien, wormed into his mind and body, burning in the pit of his stomach and buzzing along his spine.
Their eyes locked. It was as if a switch was flipped in his brain. His back legs kicked out of their own volition and Daliér found himself bouncing around the clearing like a spring lamb. At the same time Alba had broken into her own spasmodic dance, flailing limbs raising a cloud of dust with each stomp of her hooves.
He almost felt something then, like waves of heat rolling inward to the centre of the circle. Lights not quite visible danced at the edges of his vision. Alba was lost to it, dancing and running the circle without care. She had her eyes closed as she ran but somehow she managed to avoid colliding with the wall of donkeys around them. Laughter bubbled from his lips as he ran to chase her, careless of the crowd. She looked over her shoulder at him and for that single moment he saw nothing but her face, her mane flicking and curling to frame it and her mouth wide with joy.
Next he knew they were tumbling together, holding one another tight as they rolled across the dirt, Alba laughing fit to burst and the rest of the crowd whooping and singing all the louder. They lay where they fell outside the circle, panting and open-mouthed, each soaking the other's warmth.
"That was..." Alba rolled on top of Daliér and grinned down at him. "Dal, I remember."
"Remember what?"
"Everything," Alba replied. She turned her head toward the stars and swallowed. "I remember everything. I wish you could see..."
And then before he could question it, she fell forward and kissed him, her lips pressing hungrily against his mouth and face as they had never done before. Daliér closed his eyes and gave up trying to understand in the face of more immediate and pressing concerns.
Maybe he'd ask her about it another day.
Assuming he remembered.
