Spike was nearly out of breath. He hung on to whatever air that was around him, until he couldn’t go any further. Pausing on the summit, he wiped the frost that clung to his upper lip, cleared some snow on the ground, and made a small fire with the kindling he had. And while he rested near the warmth of the fire for some time, the heat slowly diminished the cold feeling in his hands and feet, making him feel more energetic and less sluggish.
But even though the fire helped him feel more energetic, it certainly didn’t weigh out the tiredness he had. Because of his tiredness, his mouth became dry with the taste of bile; and it only worsened as he sat near the fire. Spike was more tired than he had any right to be, and he could make camp here for the night, but there was barely any room to put up the tent he carried. According to the map he had, it said he only had three more miles of climbing until he got to a resting ground.
Since morning, Spike had climbed twenty miles of relentless rock, trying to find the home Twilight told him about. It was impressive what she knew. On his shoulders, he had lifted, with every single step he did to climb this mountain, essentials. And at every step his feet grew colder despite the boots he wore. Snow wasn’t as forgiving as he thought it would be.
He knew one thing as he sat in front of the fire: He should have made a camp five miles back, as there were timber and spruce trees, whose branches were low, which meant that the branches were close to the trunk, and he could cradle in at the roots where it would be dry. That tree, like the strong Twilight Sparkle he would never forget, called to him, telling him to stop, yet there were only two and a half hours of daylight left before nightfall, and he had no choice but to go on.
As he trailed up the giant rock, he thought about what Twilight said to him before he left: If he had waited another two weeks before leaving for good, the snow might have dissipated since spring was just around the corner. Sure, the days would have been longer, resulting in more climbing, making his exhaustion worse, but it would also mean the cold would be less severe. He simply couldn’t though, had he waited two more weeks, heck, had he waited two more days, he might have never left. It was hard…hard to say goodbye.
Regardless, the worst was over. Last night, a wild blizzard stormed its way through the rockies, but Spike had been lucky enough to find shelter in a cave. Now all he could do was climb up and hope that the map wasn’t lying to him. All he wanted was a dry, warm camp so he could get some rest. Maybe then, the grown-up dragon could get a proper night of sleep.
Spike got to his feet and started climbing again.
As Spike traveled further up the summit, he noted that the pass had become quiet and still, with almost no wind blowing. His heartbeats increased rapidly, beating inside of him, as if it were Twilight sending him a message, telling him to stop climbing before he pushed himself to unconsciousness. Above him, mist began to form, and it made it difficult for him to see anything past it, but that didn’t stop him from moving forward.
Despite the blindness, Spike continued to move up the slope before him. He was beginning to feel like a ghost on a lump of rock. He found himself wanting to see Twilight’s face once more. He longed for her guidance, that voice that told him everything he needed to hear, a hint or sign of reassurance that he would be fine in the end.
His sight wasn’t of lavender, it was of white. Snow, brought on by an onset of wind, blew into his face. He pushed through it, forcing his way through everything that was moving against him as he remembered Twilight’s last words telling him that he would always be welcome to visit her whenever he liked. Those words were a promise that maybe, just maybe, he’d actually see her again, they gave him strength to continue.
He forced his way through the storm, into dark evergreens came out of the mist that he was going though. They cut into him, poking him with their branches. The cold wind brushed against his face, making his eyes watery from the sheer cold; his ears were filled with the sound of rushing air; his vision was blurred by tears, but it didn’t stop him.
He looked back at that trail; there were so many memories of the life he left behind swirling around in his head. He could easily descent down the mountain, run back to his hometown, and reunite himself with the pony that raised him from birth. He couldn’t though. Or could he?
His claws dug deep into the frozen ground, using them like icepicks to prop himself forward. He dragged himself toward the trees, which he used to pull himself up to get a look at what was in front of him: It was as if it were a gift from Celestia, a cave in the side of the mountain, one sufficient enough to get him out of this storm. With a new destination in sight, he moved forward.
Wind gusted in his face as he moved forward; he was quickly reaching the point to where his eyes were too watery to distinguish anything in his sight. Because he knew the cave was right there, he mustered enough strength to stand up and lunge himself forward. To save himself from face planting into the snow, he plunged down his claws. His bag slipped forward on the back of his head and held him down. He saw the cave entrance, and he crawled his way to it.
Spike was too feeble to rise underneath the pack. He rolled over on his side, unclipped the clips that strapped his bag, and dropped the pack near the wall of the cave. Pulling out the kindlings from his bag, he tossed them on the floor and lit a fire. The snow that was on his belongings slowly melted into water, and it seeped down into the ground.
He removed the boots off his feet, and a breathed a sigh of relief. He tried to wriggle his toes, but they hardly moved despite his best effort. They were indeed cold, but they weren’t wet, which was actually better to his knowledge. Only his ankles felt wet.
Standing up, he thrashed his arms about his shoulders, bringing the blood back to their tips. The dirt was cold and frozen, but it wasn’t dampened by snow. Now all he had to do was build his tent, dry his boots and mittens, and get some well-earned rest. If he hurried now, he would be asleep before midnight. He slammed his bag on the ground, unfolded it, and began to build the makeshift tent.
The muscles in his shoulders began to bulge as he extended his arms to construct the tent. It felt as though they would burst through his scales; and they ached in pain until he could no longer hold in the cries. His legs felt numb, completely devoid of feeling.
He would miss that numbness.
As the heat of the fire did its job, feeling returned to his legs in the form of pain, pain that got worse the warmer his legs got. The pain eventually branched out to his entire body, and the pain was the only reality of his existence right now: He was no more than an agony worse than death, a valiant effort for surviving through the twilight across the long shadows of evergreens in the snow.
His persistence was rewarded, and the tent eventually was pitched. It would only be a matter of time, before the moon crept out and the last warmth of the sun’s rays would be a distant memory. He sat in the middle of his tent, drained, and sighed now that the brutal day had come to an end. He placed the wool on the surface of the tent to insulate the place.
After warming up slightly, Spike went out of the tent and scooped up some snow with a tin can, heating it with the fire to make water. It had been a while since he had a drink of water; and it certainly helped his dry mouth and dehydration. He looked at the fire, and heard the crackling of the flames. A part of him wanted to jump right into the fire and sleep in it for the night. That was one of the many perks of being a dragon: Immunity to fire. But he knew that wouldn’t help him, it would just cause his pain to be that much worse.
Spike bit his fingers. They were warm and responsive, the way he liked it. His thumbs tingled, and, when he rubbed his hands near the fire, they sweated from the heat. If he didn’t find this ground, who knew where he would be. And it was like what Twilight always said to him: Follow your heart and your mind.
As he sat there, in the darkness of the cave, the moonlight shining into the mouth, rubbing his feet together, he reached for his bag, and pulled something out. It was a portrait of none other than Twilight Sparkle. She gave it to him so he would never forget her and the life he once had. Spike slumped down to his back, landing on the ground. He held it up in the air, under the moonlight.
His eyes were only on the picture he held in his claws and the lovely smile upon Twilight’s face. He couldn’t take it.
He put the portrait back in his bag and diverted his attention to the stars he could see out of the cave’s mouth. Eventually he made his way back into the tent and fell asleep.
…
“Spike, are you sure you’re ready to make a big decision like that?” Twilight asked, her eyes welling up slightly. “I mean, I know you’re a grown dragon, and you’ve almost fully matured, but what about me?”
The dragon stood in front of Twilight in his crystal room, pondering on whether or not he should go live the solitary life of a dragon. He knew it was time to move on. He just knew it; a feeling in his heart told him it was time to be secluded from the rest of the world and take on the life of a mighty dragon. But another part of his heart was telling him to stay. But could he really stay here?
He looked at her as if he would find the answer to his question of leaving or staying. But she didn’t have an answer as it wasn’t her choice. It was Spike’s. He knew that, but he thought it wouldn’t hurt to try.
“I don’t know, Twilight,” Spike eventually said. His ears withered down, like a dying plant. “Half of me is telling me I should go and live in the mountains for the rest of my life, but another part of me is telling me to stay here, where I grew up for most of my life. But I feel like I should go, you know? I mean, I am a dragon. I have to go sometime. And now is the best time for me to do just that.”
He sat down on his bed, placed his palms on his cheeks, and sighed. Then looked up at Twilight. She had a look of anguish on her face. The nuances in her face scrunched down in terror as she stood there listening to Spike. He saw tears streaking down her cheeks, but then he witnessed her choke her feelings aside, letting the more analytical side of her take over.
“Are you sure this is what you want, Spike?” Twilight asked, sitting next to him.
Even Spike had to admit that that question rolled around in his head from time to time: Was this something he really wanted? It wasn’t an easy question to answer, even for himself. When he was a baby dragon, he knew that this day would eventually come, the day that a decision would have to be made, even if it meant losing what he held dearest to him. And yet it didn’t take much to get an answer out.
Spike embraced Twilight, wrapped his arms around her, looked up, then said, “Yes. This is what I want. I need to do this.” Wretched sobs emulated from him as he spoke. “I’m a dragon, and even you, Twilight, can’t deny that you knew this day would come.”
Twilight would be lying if she said she didn’t. Ever since Spike was born and taken under her guardianship, it became clear that he would have to move on without her—despite her raising him as her own newborn filly—one day. But this wasn’t a case of a foal growing up to adulthood, then heading off to college to start a career, and eventually paying visits to its parents. Spike was a dragon. And he would be living somewhere in the mountains, suited for giant beings. He couldn’t keep living here in Ponyville. It just wasn’t natural. He needed to be somewhere far and beyond and Twilight knew that.
Twilight averted her gaze to the ceiling and let her emotions roll free. She couldn’t deny the logic here. Even though it was pretty clouded from her anguish, she was able to see it clearly. “I know, Spike, it’s just that…” She looked at Spike again, witnessing the same eyes that laid on her when he was born. “It’s just that things will never be the same again without you here. You’re like my baby brother. And I don’t know if I can go on without you, Spike. But because I love you so much, I have to let you go. I want what’ll make you happy, not what’ll make me happy.” She leaned into him, cried on his shoulder. “I remember you saying that to Rarity. And now it’s my time to say it to you.”
Spike took her in his arms, patted her mane, and cried with her. Eventually, after collecting himself, he said, “You know that we’ll always be together, right? You’re my mother, Twilight. I might not always admit that, but you are.” He pulled back and looked her right in the eyes. “We may not always be side by side or even physically close, but we’ll always be mentally close. And nothing will change that. Ever.”
Twilight smiled. “You’ll always be a part of my life, Spike. Just remember that you’re always welcome here in Ponyville. Your friends and I aren’t going anywhere any time soon,” Twilight said as she pulled back, smiling.
Using her magic, she lifted something in her magical grip and placed it on Spike’s lap. It was a portrait of none other than Princess Twilight Sparkle.
“I want you to have that, Spike. That way if you’re feeling sad or down, you’ll always know that I’m here for you.” She embraced him again, but this time tighter than usual.
“I love it, Twilight. I’ll always keep this safe. And I promise we’ll see each other again. Even if it’s only in my dreams.”
A smile crossed Twilight’s face. “Would you like me to send you to your new home?”
“No…I…I need to do this myself…and where is this new home you speak of?”
…
Spike was moving around in his sleep, muttering indecipherable mumbles, and he eventually yelled something aloud. “Twilight!” His body flung forward like a catapult, and his eyes moved around the tent aimlessly, until he realized he had just been dreaming. After slumping back down on the sheets of wool, he reached for the portrait that stuck out of his bag, then held it up in the air. “Always, right, Twilight?” he whispered.
“Always…”
When morning came, Spike gathered all of his belongings, left the cave, and continued up the summit. The map said that he only had fourteen more miles before he reached his new home. So he climbed and climbed up the summit. The wind blew before him, the long ends of the scarf tied around the collar of his jacket, and near him the luminous sun outlined a chunk of flat land that stuck out near the peak. Spike paused for a moment, double checked the map, then gazed back up.
His new home! How good to have reached the place where he would spend the rest of his years! He vaulted up the chunk of frozen rock and stood before the large cove. He turned around, looked down, and smiled. “I did it, Twilight. I made it.” There was the site of a valley below, filled in the sunlight, a gigantic forest, though, from up here, it looked small and green as a field of grass. Above him, there were clouds and the snow peak, notched and jagged.
When he looked back at the cove, he smiled and made his way inside. The entire place was mostly frozen ice and crystal, though the floor was completely rock. Sharp stalactites hung from the ceilings, and even gigantic icicles were among them too. Moving further into the cave, there was a wide pool, and Spike could see something in the centre of it. From where he stood, it didn’t seem natural enough to be in here.
Curious, Spike went toward it, and picked it up. “Well, no wonder.” It was a parchment, covered in frost and ice, the very same kind Twilight always used to send letters off to Princess Celestia. On the red seal, it had Spike’s name on it. Even more curious, Spike opened it up, unrolled it, and examined it. It was a letter from Twilight herself. But how’d it get here?
Spike quickly unlatched his bag, made a fire, placed the wool down, and began reading the letter.
Dear, Spike
I hope you found your new home okay. I wanted to send you this letter because I forgot to read something to you. Something I wrote for you a long time ago. When you read it, I want you to know that I mean every word of it, you hear? Good. I’m grateful we can have one last moment together. At least for now. Now read on.
When we are old and the years are set upon us,
There will come a time when the wind’s still and time stops.
You will grow and blossom, petals flying wherever the wind blows.
I will always be here for you.
The rain will still fall, and the clouds will still float,
And the trees will still stand for you.
You will have gone places I never could, and far beyond.
I will always be here for you.
You will grow and change and move on.
Go wherever the rains and clouds and sun take your precious soul.
I will always be here for you.
My friend, you are better than I.
You are sturdy like an oak and soft like a reed.
You are bright like the sun and mysterious like the moon.
You are brave like the lion and humble like the bear.
My friend, you are better than I will ever be.
When we are old and the years have set upon us,
When our time beneath the rains and sun is through,
You shall be far and beyond where I can reach, where I can dream.
I will always be here for you.
The rain slowly turns to snow, the clouds to blue and the trees tumble.
You shall have grown and flown high above all misery.
I will always be here for you.
You have changed and shaped yourself.
Gone wherever your soul wished to fly,
Following the rain, clouds, and sun.
I have always been here for you.
Just remember Spike: I’m always here for you.
Love you always,
Twilight Sparkle.
P.S. Don’t forget to write back to me!
He pulled the portrait from his bag, looked at it, with tears dripping from his eyes and with a smile crossing his face.
“I love you, Ma.”
