Starlight - that’s how they travelled...
The pegusi weather forecast had planned a warm and clear sky for that evening, so setting up a picnic out on the prairie seemed like a fun idea. Her new friend, also, liked the idea. She had been expecting him to agree, being a lover of the night himself.
The old red and white checkered picnic blanket lay sprawled across the grass as the two of them, well - just her, sat on it. It was hard for a cloud to do anything but float and she doubted he’d like the idea of being called fog this close to the ground.
The picnic basket she brought had plenty of food, though she knew he wouldn’t eat any due to his particular diet. Still, she wanted him to feel included. After all, no picnic was complete without something to eat.
They sat watching the stars, talked, and even tried some silly things to amuse themselves. In one instance, he had snatched up his glass and let the contents soak into him. The result was an apple juice rain storm. It had made her laugh, especially when he started chasing her. He was a fast little cloud, but he never caught her.
As the night moved on, the two of them merely watched the stars flicker.
She loved laying on the big old blanket staring up at the heavens. So much wonder. It also reminded her of her father's stories about his adventures and such stories were they. He was probably one of the few ponies who could weaved a story right into a ponys imagination and make them believe they were right there next to him.
She loved her father.
Tonight, she remembered when he had told her about the important role stars played for ponies.
“They travelled by starlight,” he’d told her, “during the night. Much harder than during the day, since the Moon has a tendency of being playful. But not the stars. They are always vigilant, remaining ever still so those traveling by night can see. The brighter stars would even go as far as to form groups called constellations to help guide those travelling.”
Tears began to escape her eyes.
She missed her father.
No, she was a grown up. She didn’t have time for tears and pain and… but the tears kept coming, regardless of what she told herself. She was fully sobbing by this point and even the little black cloud that had been keeping her company couldn’t console her.
When there were no more tears, the anger flared. It always came afterward.
Why, she screamed at the stars. Why wouldn’t he come back! Just because there was no body, didn’t mean he was dead! He had lived all across the world! Fought against dangers no ordinary pony had! He was a survivalist! His special talent was luck!
When she had finally stopped, she slumped forward exhausted. Her lungs burned as she wheezed in each breath.
“Why won’t he come back, Sid?” she asked the cloud meekly. “Did we do something wrong? Weren’t my mom and I good enough?”
The cloud pressed up on her, like a warm hug.
“We waited - and he never came back to us. My mother - died waiting, Sid! She died waiting!”
“Even a pony protected by luck can still die, if dying is the lucky part,” said the cloud as it floated in front of her. She gave the cloud a sideways glance. “Your father could be dead, Summer. It is possible. There are many things in this world and on others that can go around a pony’s special talent, especially, if they know how to work the angle.”
“There was no body,” she said, withdrawing into herself. “He protected the caravan and made sure nothing followed after.”
“He could have been eaten whole,” said the cloud, then immediately regretted it.
“There was no sign of a fight! They followed his trail until it just vanished!” Her face was filled with frustration. “It - just - vanished!”
Silence.
Summer looked down at the grass and swatted at it with her hoof.
Obsidian didn’t like seeing her this way. Granted, their time together had been short and perhaps he was a creature ill suited for this type of emotional comfort, but seeing her this way, he wasn’t going to let her, or him, ruin the night for herself.
“They travelled by starlight,” he casually stated catching a flat glimpse from her. “The bright beacons of the celestial ocean, guiding all in the darkness of the abyss, displaying both past and future to those who look up into the infinite.” He floated away a bit then lifted up towards the sky so she’d have to look at him and the spectacle she had come for. “Travelling the seas and roads between the many lands of this world is a dangerous sort. Brave stallions and mares must overcome their fears to see their task through. This is no easy feat and I have seen even the bravest become one with the depths that is the ocean of fear.
“Traveling the high sea’s of this world, even in its darkest depths, is nothing compared to the beauty of travelling the real ocean between worlds.” He floated back over to her as she had now picked her head up and followed him with those green eyes of hers. “I miss them at times, the moments in between the stars. One day, I shall travel them again, but until then, I am here with you.”
“You’ve - travelled through space?” she said, her face reflecting that she didn’t believe him.
A chuckle came from within the cloud. “I have been around longer than this world and many others. In the grand scheme of things, even I am still young. I have seen not just different worlds, I have seen different versions of myself, all of which are trapped in the light between worlds. All that I am, will be, and have been is stored there for all to see. You need but look.”
Now she was really confused. “So you can see - through time or something like that?”
“I can see all futures, as I can see all the pasts that ever could have been. There is a lot up there to be seen, even for me.”
Summer’s eyes widened and as something was about to come forth from her mouth, Obsidian spoke gently, “No. I don’t dally on what might be or what other course I, or some other creature, could have chosen. The light only holds facts, not truth. You’re father is just as likely alive as he is dead to the starlight. Finding the right place to look - that is an analogy not worth tempting.”
“Then what’s the point of even being able to see any of it?” she yelled, anger flaring.
Obsidian sighed. “Perhaps there isn’t. Perhaps there is. You’ll have to determine that for yourself.” The cloud floated back in front of her at eye level. “I’m not a proponent of hope, clearly, but perhaps you may wish to try it.”
“There is no hope. Not for any of us here.”
“There is always hope, as there will always be fear.” He moved a ways from her and transformed into the strange demonic pony creature she had first met him as, then stood in some dramatic pose. “What do I keep telling you about myself: I am a force of nature. I am the agent of fear. Good and evil do not concern me, only that the cowardly fall in my wake, leaving the brave to rise in challenge. You are not a coward, Summer Stars, and I have watched you put fear back in its place on several occasions. Do not let despair be your end.”
“It’s easy for you to say. You’re not…” she waved her hoof at him.
“One of you? That doesn’t mean I don’t understand. I remember when Luna fell to despair and became the monster the three of us created,” he said then changed back to the little cloud. “There are somethings you come to be so close too, that you can no longer see them. I knew she was having problems, but how deep, that I couldn’t see.
“When she became Nightmare Moon, I wasn’t even in the capital. I missed the whole thing, but I got the full effect afterwards by Celestia. I never felt so low in my existence as I did that day.”
Summer hooked the cup with her shoe and took a drink of the cool water. She played with the empty container until finally she said, “I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. I’m sorry.”
“You’re frustrated like many other ponies at the moment, with the happenings at Canterlot. All of this shall pass, it must. Such is the world.”
“Yes, but when? I only got so many years until I die. I don’t have the luxury of waiting for the world to get better.”
“Well, that will be up to the bureaucrats I hate to say. When this claim against Luna gets cleared, everything will be back to normal. It’s only natural to villainize the fallen. Celestia won’t let her sister get dragged through the mud around for long.”
“I hope so. Hey, speaking of Princess Luna, she’s been sending lots of mail, shouldn’t you be reading any of it?”
“I’ll get to it.”
His answer seemed less genuine but she let it be.
Looking back at the stars she couldn’t help but think of her father. “Hey, Sid, could you tell me more about when you used to travel by starlight?”
Two Years Later…
Obsidian looked up to the night sky, gazing at the moments in between, remembering.
How good it was then.
The thought lingered as he moved through the same moment, over and over, each, with a slightly different variation, yet the same result occurred each time. No matter what transpired before or what would happen afterward, even after noticing it so long ago, nothing could change what would and must be.
“Hey Sid!” Summer called. The hooded brown pony turned to his friend. “You alright?”
“Just dreaming,” he said softly.
“I didn’t think demons could dream,” said Cherry as she came from around the house. “Ready, when you feelin’ it.”
“Then - that’s it,” said Summer as she stared at her home.
The blood red pony struck a flint to her shoe and held out the torch for Summer.
The fire burned on the tinder, dancing wildly.
Obsidian watched as she threw the torch into the dilapidated house. The fire quickly spread and the structure was a blaze in moments. Cherry had done her job well.
As the memory of a fragile past burned before her, he felt a knot twist within him. Sadness. A creature of fear he may have been, but emotionless he was not.
There was some cruelty in this, but what must be will be.
Obsidian looked back to the stars. “They travel by starlight, the memories in between, to remind us of those of the past, present, and future, that we do not travel alone. Someday I will return to you, oh starlight, some day I will return. When that time comes, I will gladly travel those mighty oceans of the abyss and once again will I be amongst the memories that are carried by starlight.”
There was a time, before the twisted reflection staring back at her, reminded her of how far she had let herself become comfortable with the way the world had become. The things she did now, she would never do as the pony she was before during those days of innocence.
Innocence - if there ever was such a time, it had long since past. Even if she had lived during such, her innocence had begun to fade before the time of her commitment to the path she had now chosen. When she had taken that first life, she had let go of whatever remaining innocence she clung to - forever.
They say, the first time was the hardest. That part, Summer agreed with. The first time she had killed some pony, was the hardest, but she never agreed that each kill afterward got any easier - not on the inside at least.
It had taken much practice hiding the hurt on the outside from everypony, but the wear on her soul took its toll and each time a target she aimed at never stood back up again, was one more weight that crushed her soul.
She had killed more ponies and other creatures than she had ever dreamed or thought possible of herself. So much so that she doubt the average pony had even killed as many. Death had made her its tool and in the end she had become the Prairie Queen because of it.
Even the first time, she never wanted to kill, but the world of today, didn’t give second chances lightly or at all. It was kill or be killed. Live or die. Survive or perish. There was no middle ground and the new darkness within her feed on that reasoning. If she let him go, he’d just kill her or he’d come back with reinforcements. Who knows what they’d do to her then. After all that’s what happened to her neighbors. She couldn't’ let him go and so - so she had to.
She killed him.
Life was not fair and very much cruel, especially to a lonely pony who had to watch her mother fade into the grave. Any pony or creature that believed it to be otherwise was a fool.
She never knew his name. He made sure it went to the grave with him, but that had not deterred her. Why she had ventured to know, only she could fathom the reason. In the end she had found his family. What was left of them.
She could still remember their bodies, more bone than meat. What the carrion eaters hadn’t taken, the bugs feasted happily upon. What she remembered most was the smell of overpowering rot that kept her visit short and sweet. Those days, she did not scavenge as she did now. Even with the foul smell, she would have stripped the house clean of any valuables and then some.
That smell - only time allowed her to escape the memory of that stench. What she couldn’t escape was his face. His blood beaten face. By the Elysium Fields! Why didn’t she just shoot him!
Young fool that she was, she smashed in his face in as though it was a better death for him and her soul! No wonder he would appear at the most random of moments to torment her and each time he would moan: “My family - you killed my family! They starved, because I was not there! Why wasn’t I there!” Then his voice would pause allowing it to sink in. “Because, you killed me! You beat me to death like some animal!”
She had broken down with each appearance. There was no escaping what was now part of herself. Over and over she would weep and ask for forgiveness, but none would come. If anything, the image would appear again and condemn her more so for even asking for such. She had even thought about ending her own life, but by then she had met Obsidian.
As time progressed and the more victims had fallen to her rifle, the horror had eased. The image that had so frivolously haunted her, rarely appeared. When it did, it did not speak to her. No, that time had past. It was now her time.
“You killed your family.,” she would tell the face. “They starved because of you! Because, you tried to kill me! Because, I killed you first. Don’t blame me for your failures!”
She had embraced the monster of necessity and in time the good part of her was buried deep within, but not forgotten. It waited patiently, like a caged animal, for that moment to strike. In those moments that it would, any who’d pass by as she slept could hear her speak: “Why won’t you let me forgive myself.”
This night, her rifle snapped-to at the ready, she felt the ease of control between that which lived and that which died as she ran towards the commotion. She had gotten very familiar with that feeling. Using the rifle without hesitation was like a normal movement of her body. There were no second thoughts. Just the motions of the rifle firing and the target falling.
As she looked down the iron sights, her target stood accurate and clear. Her heart eased, her breathing relaxed. As the axe of the pony lifted to the sky for the last time, she took the moment for her own and in a quick movement of her jaw the rifle discharged with the sound of thunder following behind. The axe fell and the pony with it.
Another weight to the pile of souls, another body for the dirt to collect, another reminder to herself of how easy it had become to ignore the days of innocence.
