Jura knelt in a bed of trampled reed grass and scanned the tracks with a practiced eye. The prints told her that the deer had been in the meadow only a half-hour before. Soon they would bed down. Her target, a small buck with a pronounced limp in his left forefoot, was still with the herd. She was amazed he had made it so far without a wolf or bear catching him. The sky was clear and dark, and a slight breeze stirred the air. A silvery cloud drifted over the mountains that surrounded her, its edges glowing with ruddy light cast from the harvest moon cradled between two peaks. Streams flowed down the mountains from stolid glaciers and glistening snowpacks. A brooding mist crept along the valley's floor, almost as thick enough to obscure her hooves. Jura was fifteen, less than a year from marehood. Dark circles rested below her intense blue eyes. Her clothes were worn from work. A hunting knife with a bone handle was sheathed at her belt, and a buckskin tube protected her yew bow from the mist. She carried a wood-frame pack.
The deer had led her deep into Spine, a range of untamed mountains that extended up and down the land of Equestria. Strange tales and stallions often come from those mountains, usually boding ill. Despite that, Jura did not fear the Spine-she was the only hunter near Ponyville who dared track game deep into its craggy recesses. It was the third night of the hunt, and her food was half gone. If she did not fell the buck, she would be forced to return home empty-hoofed. Her family needed the meat for the rapidly approaching winter and couldn't afford to buy it in Ponyville.
Jura stood with quiet assurance in the dusky moonlight, and then strode into the forest toward a glen where she was sure the deer would rest. The trees blocked the sky from view and cast feathery shadows on the ground. She looked at the tracks only occasionally, she knew the way.
At the glen, she strung her bow with a sure touch, then drew three arrows and nocked one, holding the others in her left wing. The moonlight revealed twenty or so motionless lumps where the deer lay in the grass. The buck she wanted was at the edge of the herd, his left foreleg stretched out awkwardly.
Jura slowly crept closer, keeping the bow ready. All her of the past three days had led to this moment. She took a last steadying breath and- an explosion shattered the night. The herd bolted. Jura lunged toward, racing through the grass as a fiery wind surged past her cheek. She slid to a stop and loosed an arrow at the bounding buck. It missed by a hoof's breadth and hissed into darkness. She cursed and spun around, instinctively nocking another arrow.
Behind her, where the deer had been, smouldered a large circle of grass and trees. Many of the pines stood bare of their needles. The grass outside the charring was flattened. A wisp of smoke curled in the air, carrying a burnt smell. In the center of the blast radius laid a polished blue stone. Mist snaked across the scorched area and swirled insubstantial tendrils over the stone. Jura watched for danger for several long minutes, but the only thing that moved was the mist. Cautiously, she released the tension from her bow and moved forward. Moonlight cast her in pale shadow as she stopped before the stone. She nudged it with an arrow, and then jumped back. Nothing happened, so she warily picked it up.
Nature has never polished a stone as smooth as this one. Its flawless surface was dark blue, except for thin veins of white that spider webbed across it. The stone was cool and frictionless under her hooves, like hardened silk. Oval and about a foot long, it weighed several pounds, though it felt lighter than it should have. Jura found the stone both beautiful and frightening. Where did it come from? Does it have a purpose? Then a more disturbing thought came to her: Was it sent here by accident, or am I meant to have it?
If she had learned anything from the old stories, it was to treat magic, and those who used it, with great caution.
But, what should I do with the stone? It would be tiresome to carry, and there was a chance it was dangerous. It might be better to leave it behind. A flicker of indecision ran through her, and she almost dropped it, but something stayed in her hoof. At very least, it might pay for some food, she decided with a shrug, tucking the stone into her pack.
The glen was too exposed to make a safe camp, so she slipped back into the forest and spread her bedroll beneath the upturned roots of a fallen tree. After a cold dinner of bread and cheese, she wrapped herself in blankets and fell asleep, pondering what had occured. The sun rose the next morning with a glorious conflagration of pink and yellow. The air was fresh, sweet, and very cold. Ice edged the streams, and the small pools were completely frozen over. After a breakfast of porridge, Jura returned to the glen and examined the charred area. The morning light revealed no new details, so she started for home.
The rough game trail was faintly worn and, in places, nonexistent. Because it had been forged by animals, it often backtracked and took long detours. Yet for all its flaws, it was still the fastest way out of the mountains.
The Spine was one of the only places that Princess Celestia couldn't call her own. Stories were still told about how half of her army disappeared after marching into its ancient forest. A cloud of misfortune and bad luck seemed to hang over it. Through the trees grew tall and the sky shone brightly, few ponies could stay in the Spine for long without suffering an accident. Jura was one of those few-not through any particular gift, it seemed to her, but because of persistent for years, yet she was still wary of them. Everytime she thought they had surrendered their secrets, something happened to upset her understanding of them-like the stone's appearance. She kept a brisk pace, and the leages steadily disappeared. In late evening she arrived at the edge of a precipitous ravine. The Anora River rushed by far below, heading to Palancar Valley.
Gorged with hundreds of tiny streams, the river was a brute force, battling against the rocks and boulders that barred its way. A low rumble filled the air. Jura camped in a thicket near the ravine and watched the moonrise before going to bed.
It grew colder over the next day and a half. Jura traveled quickly and saw little of the wary wildlife. A bit past noon, she heard the Winsome Falls blanketing everything with a dull sound of a thousand sand splashes. The trail led her onto a moist slate outcropping, which the river sped past, flinging itself into the empty air and down mossy cliffs.
Before her lay Palacar Valley, exposed like an unrolled map. The base of Wisdom Falls, more than half-mile below, was the northernmost point of the valley. A little ways from the falls was Ponyville, a cluster of brown buildings. White smoke rose from the chimneys, defiant of the wilderness around it. At this height, farms were small square patches no bigger than the end of her hoof. The land around them was tan and sandy, where dead grass swayed in the wind. A river wound from the falls toward Palacar's southern end, reflecting great strips of sunlight. Far in the distance it flowed past the village Canterlot and the lonely mountain where Celestia's castle lay. Beyond that, she knew only it turned north and ran to the sea.
After a pause, Jura left the outcropping and started won the trail, grimacing at the descent. When she arrived at the bottom, soft dusk was creeping over everything, blurring colors and shapes into gray masses. Ponyvile's light shimmered nearby in the twilight; the houses cast long shadows.Aside from Canterlot, Ponyville was the only village in Palacar Valley. The settlement was secluded and surrounded by harsh, beautiful land. Few traveled here except merchants and trappers.
The village was composed of stout log buildings with low roofs-some thatched, others shingled. Smoke billowed from the chimneys, giving the air a woody smell. The buildings had wide porches where ponies gathered to talk and conduct business. Occasionally a window brightened as a candle or lamp was lit. Jura heard stallions talking loudly in the evening air while wives scurried to fetch their husbands, scolding them for being late.
Jura wove her way between the houses to the herb shop, a broad, thick-beamed building. Overhead, the chimney belched black smoke. She pushed the door open. The spacious room was warm and well lit by a fire snapping in a stone fireplace. A bare counter stretched across the far side of the room. The floor was strewn with loose straw. Everything was scrupulously clean, as if the owner spent his leisure time digging in obscure crannies for minuscule pieces of filth.
Behind the counter stood the herbalist Angel. A small mare, she wore a cotton shirt and a long, dusty smock. An impressive array of small bags swung from her belt. She had a sallow, pockmarked face, and her black eyes were suspicious. She polished the counter with a ragged cloth.
Angel's mouth twisted as Jura entered. "Well, the mighty hunter joins the rest of us mortals. How many did you bag this time?".
"None," was Jura's cut reply. She had never liked Angel. The herbalist always treated her with disdain, as if she were something unclean. A widow, Angel seemed to care for only one pony-her daughter, Sara, on whom she doted.
"I'm amazed," said Angel with affected astonishment. She turned her back on Jura to scrape something off the wall. "And that's your reason for coming here?"
"Yes," admitted Jura uncomfortably.
"If that's the case, let's see your money." Angel tapped her hoof when Jura shifted her feet and remained silent. "Come on-either you have it or you don't. Which is it?"
"I don't really have any money, but I do"
"What, no money?" the herbalist cut her off sharply. "And you expect to buy spices! Are the other merchants giving away their wares? Should I just hand you the goods without charge? Besides," she said abruptly, "it's late. Come back tomorrow with money. I'm closed for the day."
Jura glanced at her. "I can't wait until tomorrow, Angel. It'll be worth your while, though; I found something to pay you with." She pulled out the stone with a flourish and set it gently on the scarred counter, where it gleamed with a light from the dancing flames.
"Stole it is more likely," muttered Angel, leaning toward with an interested expression.
Ignoring the comment, Jura asked, "Will this be enough?"
Angel levitated the stone and gauged its weight speculatively. She ran her hooves over its smoothness and inspected the white veins. With a calculating look, she set it down. "It's pretty, but how much is it worth?"
"I don't know," admitted Jura, "but no pony would have gone to the trouble of shaping it unless it had some value."
"Obviously," said Angel with exaggerated patience. "But how much value? Since you don't know, I suggest you find a trader who does, or take my offer of three crowns."
"That's a miser's bargain! It must be worth at least ten times that," protested Jura. Three crowns would not even buy enough herbs and spices to last a week.
Angel shrugged. "If you don't like my offer, wait until the traders arrive. Either way, I'm tired of this conversation."
The traders were a nomadic group of merchants and entertainers who visited Ponyville every spring and winter. They brought whatever excess the villagers and local farmers had managed to grow or make, sold what they needed to live through another year; seeds, animals, fabric, and supplies like salt and sugar.
But Jura did not want to wait until they arrived; it could be a while, and her family needed the meat seasoned with fine herbs now. "Fine, I accept," she snapped.
"Good, I'll get you the meat. Not that it matters, but where did you find this?"
"Two nights ago in the Spine-"
"Get out!" demanded Angel, pushing the stone away. She stomped furiously to the end of the counter and started scrubbing a table.
"Why?" asked Jura. She drew the stone closer, as if to protect it from Angel's wrath.
"I won't deal with anything you bring back from those damned mountains! Take your sorcerer's stone elsewhere."
Angel's hoof suddenly slipped and cut the tip of it on a huge chuck of wood, but she seemed not to notice. She continued to scrub, staining the table with fresh blood.
"You refuse to sell to me!"
"Yes! Unless you pay with coins," Angel growled, and hefted the rag from the table, sliding away. "Go, before I make you!"
The door behind them slammed open. Jura whirled around, ready for more trouble. In stomped South Pole, a hulking stallion. Angel's daughter, Sara-a tall mare of sixteen- trailed behind him with a determined expression. Jura was surprised to see her; she usually absented herself from any arguments involving her mother. Angel glanced at them warily, then started to accuse Jura. "She won't-"
"Quiet," announced South Pole in a rumbling voice, cracking his neck at the same time. He was Ponyville's smith, as his thick neck and scarred leather apron attested. His powerful arms were bare to the hoof; a great expanse of a black beard, carelessly trimmed, roiled and knotted like his jaw muscles. "Angel, what have you done now?"
"Nothing." She gave Jura a murderous gaze, then spat, "This.....filly came in here and started badgering me I asked her to leave, but she won't budge. I even threatened her and she still ignored me!" Angel seemed to shrink as she looked at South Pole.
"Is this true?" demanded the smith.
"No!" replied Jura. "I offered this stone as a payment for some herbs. and she accepted it. When I told her that I'd found it in the Spine, she refused to even touch it. What difference does it make where it came from?"
South Pole looked at the stone curiously, then returned his attention to the herbalist. "Why won't you trade with her, Angel? I've no love for the Spine itself, but if it's question of the stone's worth, I'll back it with my own money."
The question hung in the air for a moment. Then Angel licked her lips and said, "This is my own store. I can do whatever I want!"
Sara stepped out from behind South and tossed back her auburn mane like a spray of molten copper. "Father, Jura is willing to pay. Give her the herbs, then we can have supper."
Angel's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Go back to the house; this is none of your business....I said go!" Sara's face hardened, then she marched out of the room with a stiff back.
Jura watched with disapproval but dared not to interfere. South tugged at his beard before saying reproachfully, "Fine, you can deal with me. What were you going to get, Jura?" His voice reverberated through the room.
"As much as I could."
South pulled out a purse and counted out a pile of bits. "Give me your best herbs and spices, Make sure that it's enough to fill Jura's pack." The herbalist hesitated, her gaze darting between South and Jura. "Not selling to me would be a very bad idea," said South.
Glowering venomously, Angel slipped into the back room. A frenzy of chopping, wrapping, and low cursing reached them. After several uncomfortable minutes, she returned with a armful of wrapped herbs. Her face was expressionless as she accepted South's money, then proceeded to clean her small table, pretending that they were not there.
South scooped up the herbs and walked outside. Jura hurried behind him, carry her pack and stone. The crisp night air rolled over their faces, refreshing after the stuffy shop.
"Thank you, South. Uncle will be pleased."
South laughed quietly. "Don't thank you. I've wanted to do that for a long time. Angel's a vicious troublemaker; it does her a good to be humbled. Sara heard what was happening and ran to fetch me. Good thing I came-the two of you were almost at blows. Unfortunately, I doubt she'll serve you or any of your family the next time you go there, even if you have bits."
"Why did she explode like that? We've never been friendly, but she's always taken our money. And I've never seen her treat Sara that way," said Jura, opening the top of the pack.
South shrugged. "Ask your uncle. He knows more about it than I do."
Jura stuffed the herbs in her pack. "Well, now I have one more reason to hurry home....to solve this mystery. Here, this is rightfully yours." She proffered the stone.
South chuckled. "No, you keep your strange rock. As for payment, Garrow plans to leave for Canterlot next spring. He wants to become a master smith, and I'm going to need an assistant. You can come and work off the dept on your spare days."
Jura bowed slightly, delighted. South had two sons, Garrow and Baldor, both of whom worked in his forge. Taking one's place was a generous offer. "Again, thank you! I look forward to working with you."
She was glad that there was a way for him to pay South. Her uncle would never accept charity. Then Jura remembered what her cousin had told her before she had left on the hunt. "Ay wanted me to give Sara a message, but since I can't, can you get it to her?"
"Of course."
"He wants her to know that he'll come into town as soon as the merchants arrive and that he will see her then."
"That all."
Jura was slightly embarrassed. "No, he also want her to know that she is the most beautiful mare he has ever seen and that he thinks of nothing else."
South's face broke into a broad grin; and he winked at Jura.
"Getting serious, isn't he?"
"Yes, sir," Jura answered with a quick smile. "Could you also give her my thanks? It was nice of her to stand up to her father for me. I hope that she isn't punished because of it. Ay would be furious if I got her into trouble."
"I wouldn't worry about it. Angel doesn't know that she called me, so I doubt he'll be hard on her. Before you go, will you sup with us?"
"I'm sorry, but I can't. Applejack is expecting me," said Jura, tying off the top of the pack. She hoisted it onto her back and started down the road, raising her hoof in farewell.
The herbs slowed her down, but Jura was eager to be home, and renewed vigor in her steps. The village ended abruptly, and she left its warm lights behind. The pearlescent moon peeked over the mountains, bathing the land in a ghostly reflection of daylight. Everything looked bleached and flat.
Near the end of her journey, she turned off the road, which continued south. A simple path led straight through the waist-high grass and up a knoll, almost hidden by the shadows of protective elm trees. She crested up the hill and saw a gentle light shining in her home.
The house had a shingled roof and a brick chimney. Eaves hung over the whitewashed walls, shadowing the ground below. One side of an enclosed porch was filled with split wood, ready for the fire. A jumble of farm tools cluttered the other side.
The house had been abandoned for half a century when they moved in after Applejack's husband, Apple Crisp, died. It was ten miles from Ponyville, farther than anypony else's. Ponies considered the distance dangerous because the family could not rely on help from the village in times of trouble, but Jura's aunt would not listen.
A hundred feet from the house, in a dull-colored barn, lived two goats-Birka and Brugh-with chickens and a cow. Sometimes there was also a pig, but they had been unable to afford one this year. A wagon sat wedged between the stalls. On the edge of their fields, a thick line of trees traced along the river.
She saw a light move behind a window as she wearily reached the porch. "Aunt, it's Jura. Let me in." A small shutter slid back for a second, then the door swung inward.
Applejack stood with her hoof on the door. Her worn clothes hung on him like rags on a stick frame. A lean, hungry face with intense eyes gazed out from under graying hair. She looked like a mare who had been partly mummified before it was discovered that he was still alive. "Ay's sleeping," was her answer to Jura's inquiring glance.
A lantern flickered on a wood table so old that the grain stood up in tiny ridges like a giant hoofprint. Near a wood stove were rows of cooking utensils tacked onto the wall with homemade nails. A second door opened to the rest of the house. The floor was made of boards polished smooth by years of trampling hooves.
Jura pulled off her pack and took out the herbs. "What's this? Did you buy herbs? Where did you get the bits?" asked her aunt harshly as she saw the wrapped packages.
Jura took a deep breath before answering. "No, South bought it for us."
"You let him pay for it? I told you before, I won't beg for food. If we can't feed ourselves, we might as well move into town. Before you turn around twice, they'll be sending us used clothes and asking if we'll be able to get through the winter." Applejack's face paled with anger.
"I didn't accept charity," snapped Jura. "South agreed to let me work off the debt this spring. He needs somepony to help him because Garrow is going away."
"And where will you get the time to work for him? Are you going to ignore all the things that need to be done here?" asked Applejack, forcing her voice down.
Jura hung her bow and quiver on hooks beside the front door. "I don't know how I'll do it," she said irritably. "Besides, I found something that could be worth some money." She set the stone on the table.
Applejack bowed over it: the hungry lookon her face became ravenous, and her hooves moved with a strange twitch. "You found this in the Spine?"
"Yes," said Jura. She explained what had happened. "And to make matters worse, I lost my best arrow. I'll have to make more before long." They stared at the stone in the near darkness.
"How was the weather?" asked her aunt, lifting the stone. Her hoof tightened around it like she was afraid of it would suddenly disappear.
"Cold," was Jura's reply. "It didn't snow, but it froze each night."
Applejack looked worried by the news. "Tomorrow you'll have to help Ay finish harvesting the barley. If we can get the squash picked, too, the frost won't bother us." She passed the stone to Jura. "Here, keep it. When the traders come, we'll find out what it's worth. Selling it is probably the best thing to do. The less we're involved with magic, the better.....Why did South pay for the herbs?"
It took only a moment for Jura to explain her argument with Angel. "I just don't understand what angered her so."
Applejack shrugged. "Angel's husband, Sloan, went over the Winsome Falls a year before you were brought here. She hasn't been near The Spine ever since, nor had anything to do with it. But that's no reason to refuse payment. I think she wanted to give you trouble."
Jura swayed blearily and said, "It's good to be back." Applejack's eyes softened, and she nodded. Jura stumbled to her room, pushed the stone under her bed, then fell onto the mattress. Home. For the first time since before the hunt, she relaxed completely as sleep overtook her.
