The forest pulses with raw energy. I feel it coursing through my essence. I can feel every inch of it, every living creature, every tree, every ruin, every cloud of fog and mist. I feel the river running through it. I feel the kind zebra in her hut. I reach out to her, but I do not know if she feels me. I cannot communicate with her yet, like my great mother. Although I feel every day of 8,000 years old, I am yet a baby of my kind. My mother sleeps quietly in our cave. I am restless. I can feel two tiny ponies enter my forest.
The world belongs to these ponies, now. They have conquered its natural systems, reshaped the fabric of the universe to their whim. The great Princess of the Night formed me from the stars themselves more than half my lifetime ago. I still remember looking down on the world as it was. I remember technology. I remember when the old conquerors of the world looked to my tail for guidance, for their true North. I remember how they looked away as their own great lights drowned my own, and the objects of their design served as their guidance. They lived with and used the forest, their technology being fueled by its power. The forest gave. It was its own harmony. Now, these ponies fear the forest, for it is not in harmony with their magic. It still lives, still breathes, ever changing, ever growing, ever free.
Thus, these two ponies stir me. Why do they enter the forest, despite the fear harbored by their kind? I wish to call to them, but they could not understand me, despite their internal magic. They are unicorns, but they are still colts, foals, as I am young. Neither of us could overcome the barrier of our tongues to speak the language of the mind. I listen to their words as best I can. I recognize few, but there is one. It is the name I was given when I was born of the stars, the name I was given when I was given form by the Princess of the Night.
Ursa, they are saying. They are looking for an Ursa.
I fear the dangers of the forest will consume them, if they seek me out. So I listen to them, feel their progress through the forest. Then, I am struck with horror, as one tries his fledgling magic in an attempt to locate me. Sparks fly from his young horn as his spell fizzles into meaninglessness. The sparks of unspent magic reach the dry material of the forest floor. They ignite. The forest screams in panic. The foals, unaware of the damage they are causing, probe deeper into the forest, wandering uselessly away.
I am not a creature of great magical power. I cannot douse the flame from here, nor can I call out to the minds of the foals to have them return to quench the fire. I try to reach the creatures of the forest, try to instill urgency to them, make them know there is danger at hand. They cannot sense my call. I stir from my cave, not wishing to wake my great mother, and run to stop the fire.
By the time I arrive, the trees are crying in pain. They are burning. One falls, spreading its flame farther. I panic to think of what to do. I think first of a candle, and try to blow out the flame. I call upon the great North Wind, but its blow only fans the flame. I dismiss the wind quickly, embarrassed at the childish mistake. After 8,000 years, despite the vast expanse of knowledge I contain, I see that I still have room to grow. I must learn to not be impulsive. I move to another task. I put forth the sheer mass of my form and clear the good trees near the flame. I work quickly, trying to get around the blaze. I utter a sad apology to each great tree I fell, and the forest soothes me. For this fire to be stopped, the forest sacrifices its own safe members to ensure there is no kindling for the fire to move forward. I have created a ring around the flame. I move aside the lumber, trees so freshly offered for the good of the forest whole. Now, I must stop the flame as it burns.
I am massive. I can quench the fire like a blanket. I am stars, it cannot burn me. I move to the flame, and scream as I realize that I was incorrect, this form is vulnerable. I curse the Princess who gave me form. The moon shines harshly on me, without this form, who would have denied the fire room to spread? I begrudgingly recognize the wisdom of the Princess and look for another method to stop the flame.
I feel the life around me, searching for a brave enough soul to help stop the fire. I feel a great force near me, slipping silently by. Underground? No, I feel its surroundings; it is under ground level because it is in the river. It is the great serpent of the river. I rush to catch him. I roar with all my might to capture his attention. Slowly, he lifts his head above the water. I survey his face, sleek and hydrodynamic. He has a large mass of blonde hair and a peculiar mustache: one half of his mustache is purple, the other blonde. He makes eye contact and screams in terror at the sight of me. He starts back for the current. I try to calm him, but it is to no avail. I run to the rivers edge and try to stop him. He tries to swim away. Now, the current is against him. If I go too far, he may turn quickly and be lost to me as he moves down stream. I jump over him, my paws both upstream and downstream, and my backside across the stream from the fire. He screams again, trapped, and the notices the smoke. He wails at the fire, and breathes in mightily. I feel him draw the magic of the water, and as a dragon breathes fire, the sea serpent blows water towards the flame. I slowly back away, seeing his effort will succeed. He notices my retreat, but does not relent in his power. The magic of the water quenches the fire. The forest rests. He looks to me, knowingly, and moves down stream. The forest has been saved.
I breathe a little easier, but my task is not complete yet. The foals who have damaged the forest must learn the error of their ways. I feel the forest to find them. They have nearly walked in a full circle back to where they entered; thankfully, they have caused no more permanent damage. I make my way towards them. One comments on the darkness. The other shoots sparks from his horn, trying to cast a spell of illumination. I roar in horror.
It is now that I have an idea: I must communicate with them a simple message, to tell them to stop, to be more careful. I turn to try to tell them, but they have run off in fear. I chase after them, hoping for a chance to relay my simple message.
They make their way out of the forest. It has been long since I ventured beyond these trees. I weigh my looming fear. I am still a child. I do not want to leave the comfort of my home. What I have to do is important. I struggle with myself, trying to determine what to do, what is best. I breathe in. I should not leave. I breathe out, and the whole forest comes alive with a wind. I think I can hear the wind calling to me. Go, young Ursa. Go and defend your forest. Go give the ponies your message. I know this is right. I step out of the forest, one step at a time, then speed up to try to catch the ponies. I am running now. There is a town nearby. I follow the ponies there.
The colts are scared by my massive size and ethereal appearance. I try to call to them, tell them all I want is to deliver a simple message, and they shun me, running forward. They scare a baby dragon. I sympathize with this creature; another like me, still a baby despite years of age. I knew a dragon who rejected his nature of greed who never matured, living a full, healthy life as a devoted to meditation. This dragon does not have that maturity; perhaps he is as young in years as he appears. I try to speak to him, and consider following him to see if I can communicate my message to him, but he goes opposite of the colts. These colts, having nearly burnt the great forest, are my priority. I continue after them.
They take me to the center of the town. There is panic. I want to reach to these ponies, tell them I am not there to harm them, but they do not listen. There is a wagon suited for living to which the colts have gone. They call for a pony inside. A mare steps forth, and she seems disturbed. At the sight of me, she runs away.
I cannot believe these ponies! When a being of my age, no matter how immature for my kind I may be, tries to give you a message, and instruction for the well being of all creatures, you should listen! I am angered! I smash the wagon in sheer frustration! Why will these creatures not listen?
Finally, there is nowhere else for these colts to run. I again state my message. They cannot understand! The mare has been put forward as their champion. She pulls forth a rope by magic and binds my fingers. I appreciate a gesture of friendship; I know the young of these ponies will make small bracelets for their close companions. I must break it, though, to be able to use my paw. I put all of my might into trying to communicate with this magic mare. From the looks on their faces, they do not seem to understand, yet they are no longer running in fear, and are discussing amongst themselves. The magical champion draws another spell, and hits me with a spark of lightning! Yes! I have results! The sparks are the problem! I put my might into communication and give my message again. Again, they discuss, and the mare casts a pyrotechnic array! Yes! I communicate with them freely now, I have broken my communication barrier! Mother will be so proud! I try my best to understand their responses. They speak of my mother. Yes! We must protect her! We must protect the forest!
The ponies make way for another mare, a unicorn. Perhaps she can understand me the clearest? I can sense a deep welling of magic in her, greater than the very Princess who gave me form, or her noble Sister. I give my message again, and wait for a response.
What is this wonderful music? Is this their response? Oh, it is very nice. It is peaceful. They have put me at ease. They too seem to be calmer. This magical lavender mare must be their great communicator… oh my… and mage. Yes. I must speak with her… in the future. I feel… drowsy. These ponies did disturb my sleep. Oh, what is this now? Is this a bottle of milk? Oh, it has been so long since I have been treated to a bottle, but I would still enjoy it. Yes, oh the milk, I take this milk and drink it. I feel like I am being cradled in my mother’s arms. I have not felt this relaxed since I was put in this form. I feel like I am floating. I feel good…
I wake up. Have I been asleep? Was this a dream? It is well into the morning. My mother stirs and looks at me. She comforts me with soothing sounds. I am content for a moment. She asks if I really missed having a bottle that much. Bottle?
I jump awake with a start. There, sitting to the side of my cave, is a water tower with large drips of milk down one side. What happened was not a dream! The ponies were real! The fire really happened! I fear for what may have happened in the last night. My mother becomes worried, what is wrong, she asks. I tell her the story of how I had been given the oversized bottle. We must go, ensure that the embers were completely snuffed out, that the blaze was not rekindled.
I urge my mother to come with me. She comes along, worried that all I say happened last night is true. There – right where the serpent had doused the fire is a fresh clearing. My mother is saddened; she is closer to the magic of the trees than I am. I come close to her, nuzzling her as she would me, trying to be a comfort. I know what will cheer her! I proudly tell my mother I communicated with the ponies, and gave them my message. I say they will think twice about doing such an act again.
She smiles at me. I am still young, she says, how could I have spoken with ponies? I wonder myself. She asks me kindly: did they speak back to you? I drop my head. I suppose they did not. They tried though! I told her all the ways they communicated with me. She smiles dearly at me. How do I know they were not just trying to scare me off?
I quiver and sob. She is right, of course. Mothers are often right. She holds me close and tells me it will be all right. Why, I wail, why do the ponies not listen? How can we stop the ponies from doing these things again?
She thinks, and says we shall go to town. There, she will use her great magic to communicate with the ponies. This, I think, is a good idea. Together we make our way to the town.
My mother can be seen coming from far away. I hear screams of terror. How foolish I was, to take their defenses as good gestures! I see a tree nearby that has been converted into a dwelling, I steer my mother towards it, having seen that this is from whence the baby dragon had summoned the great mage that had calmed me. Even now, ponies are stampeding towards the door, pounding on it, begging the mare to come and save them from my mother and me. I see the mare in her window, holding a cloak of starry patterns. She quickly puts it away and steps onto a balcony. She nearly collapses in terror.
My mother, however, is calm and clear. I hear her speak the language of the ponies, and begin to understand the murmurs of the ponies as well. I feel the magical bond as solid as the stalactites mother uses to clean my ears, the words flowing through my brain. She introduces us, and says that we mean no harm.
I feel a new magic added to the bond from my mother – it is the mare. She speaks our own language, greats us, and asks why we have come into their city. I feel the magic of my mother weave together with hers in a glorious dance, and soon the eyes of entire gathered town widen as they begin to understand our conversation. My mother feels this too, and addresses the town. She introduces us again to the town at large, and confirms that I had been to their town on the last night. She explains that I meant no harm; in fact, that I was there to stop harm. She tells of the fire, and relates my story of how the failed magic of the two colts had began a great blaze. She says that all I meant to simply tell them a message, to help teach them something valuable about the respect of nature.
The colts are pushed forward – strangely, they now don mustaches themselves – and are made to apologize. I can feel the shame and sincerity with which the say that they are sorry. I know now that they have learned their lesson. I nod to my mother that I am pleased.
My mother thanks the colts, and bids the town goodbye for us. Before we go, she says, now that I can be understood by the town, I should give my message – the same message I tried to tell the colts, the blue magician (who is now nowhere to be seen), and all the town last night. Listen, she says, for though he is a youth, he is much older than any of you are, and is very wise.
Yes, she winks at me, wise indeed.
I blush, but step forward. The town looks at me. Never before have I had so many beings giving their undivided attention to me. Eyes of all these ponies turn to know the message I tried to tell them last night. I gather my courage to speak in front of this crowd. These are not the small creatures of the forest, and I am not communing with them in the harmony of the forest. These are intelligent beings, capable of high thought and language. I start to fear that my words are not their best. It is such a simple message; could it really help? I look towards my mother, and she senses my nervousness. She simply smiles. This lifts my heart in confidence. I am filled with her love. She trusts me to give the message, and she feels that I am wise in what I have to say. There is a message I must give. I am ready. I check my magical connection with my mother and the lavender mare. At last, I say the words I had longed to say.
“Only you can prevent forest fires.”
