I shuffled back and forth on my hooves, seeming to do a little dance. The air was bitter today. Nippy, unpleasant…but, I figure I should get used to it, where I’m going.
“Keep movin’ about like that,” Evergreen said from my right, pulling my gaze from the wood paneling to his face, “And all that gear’s gonna fall off your back.”
He had to remind me.
All at once, the weight returned to me. The weight of sleeping bags, outerwear, tons of climbing gear, cooking supplies, a small book, an oxygen tank, and, of course, goggles made their presence known to me. The strain got heavier on my back. I needed a distraction before I completely collapsed. Again.
Looking at Evergreen wasn’t really helping. His mint green build held up the same amount of gear with no trouble at all; like he was destined to climb. Actually, in a way, he kinda was – his cutie mark was a hiking stick crossed over a mountain.
His sunglasses hid his eyes fairly well, but anyone who knew Evergreen well enough knew what he was looking at: all the mares walking to and from on the platform. Mostly, just the swing of their back legs. You could tell by the way he stared off into “nothingness”.
The mare in front of us spoke for the first time in what seemed like ages. “When’s your, um…airship coming?”
“Any minute now,” I retorted, glancing at the clock, and remembering what it said on the ticket, “Should be any minute and we’ll be off.”
I gazed a bit longingly over my flank, to the empty platform. The wooden structure was built into one of the skyscrapers of Fillydelphia, and there was one on each side of the structure. The South and West “terminals” (if you could even call them that) were designed for strictly Equestrian travel. The North and the East (the one where the three of us stood) were designed for the longer, international travels.
The mare in front of us sighed. She didn’t have on any gear; ‘course, she wasn’t accompanying us, either. “You have all your things?”
“Well, I do,” I told the mare, “You know I always do, Blossomforth.”
“Okay, then…” her tone sounded that of a mother whose son had just been enlisted, “Evergreen, do you….Evergreen!”
“Huh? What?” The stallion beside me suddenly jerked around and faced my pegasus friend. “What’s up, Blossomforth?”
“Firstly, stop staring at that mare over there.”
“What?” he asked accusingly, “What are you talking about? I wasn’t – “
“Evergreen. You’ve got a wingboner the size of Cloudsdale.”
Red invaded his cheeks as the pegasus smiled sheepishly, and moved a hoof to lower his extended wings. I snickered. Being an earth pony means you didn’t show that kinda stuff that blatantly. You just get to watch others do it.
“Y-y-yes, Blossomforth,” my climbing buddy said, stammering, “I have all my things.”
“Okay then,” Blossom replied, “And your tickets?”
“Yes, ‘Forth,” the stallion said again.
“How about your – “
“Yes, Mother!” His mocking tone almost pulled another chuckle out of me, and actually planted a smile on Blossomforth’s face. “Don’t worry so much; we’ve got this covered.”
“I know, I know…” She trailed off, and she took on a pained expression. “I’m sorry. I know you’re a good climber, Evergreen. But, Fourleaf’s never really been…”
I piped up now. “I’ve climbed before! I hiked up Mt. Rushmare before.”
“Fourleaf, that’s a tourist attraction,” ‘Forth stated, matter-of-factly, “Everypony’s hiked up it who’s been there.”
I looked at the ground. She was right.
She went on. “I just…I don’t know about this. I hate to sound discriminatory, but…but…she is an earth pony. None of them have ever summited Violet before. It’s gonna be extremely hard for her without wings…or any sort of magic…”
“Relax,” Evergreen crooned, “She’ll be alright. She seemed confident enough, and confidence will fuel anypony to victory. Besides, if we’re able to do this, her life will be awesome! She’ll be able to open up that…that…”
“Record store,” I stated.
“Right, right. Record store!”
It was true. While my name did happen to be Fourleaf Clover, my cutie mark didn’t exactly fit my name. My family tended to be pretty lucky; we were well-known around Baltimare for it. A lot of good things tended to happen to us. So, naturally, when it comes to naming their firstborn daughter, my mom names me Fourleaf, in hoped that my name might end up being my cutie mark.
But, no. My cutie mark was a spinning record. Why? ‘Cause I loved music. Not making it, just listening to it. Music is the life that flows through us. The fire that keeps us warm. The smile that lies on happy faces. And, with that philosophy in mind, I want to share that with other people. So, naturally, I want to open a record store.
Only problem? Cash. Money. Bits. I don’t have it. Just ‘cause my name’s Fourleaf does not mean I win the lottery every time I play (believe me, I’ve tried.) And, it’s been my dream to open up one. Baltimare doesn’t seem to have one, and, to be fairly honest, Baltimare isn’t the cheeriest of cities, either.
So, Evergreen, a friend of mine from high school, suddenly steps back into my life, newly fresh from his own daredevilish expenditures. Promises me fame, notoriety, a new level of endurance – all stuff I don’t want. Except for the money. Equestrian Athletics is sponsoring a competition – their new climbing gear, they acclaim, should be able to put an earth pony on the summit of Mt. Violet, the most dangerous and tallest mountain in this hemisphere. Something that hasn’t been done before.
The rules seemed simple: there may be climbing groups, but a team (the ones who split the money and everything) must consist of three ponies: a unicorn, a pegasus, and an earth pony. They can represent anything from a city, to a business, to whatever name you came up with.
Evergreen, myself, and his foreign unicorn friend (who I hadn’t met yet) had formed our own team: Team Hoofboots.
No, I’m not kidding. That is our legitimate name.
The idea is (since EVERYPONY who climbs wears hoofboots) is that there’s a specialized “HB” on ours – and even as I think this, I take a look at my blue boots, the only piece of outerwear that I’ve chosen to wear today. Sure enough, in white lettering, there it is – an “HB” encased in a mountain.
Ridiculous.
I’m not sure why Evergreen picked me to climb with him, considering I have zero climbing experience. In fact, when I thought about the whole situation, I considered I might actually still have the luck gene my family has – where else would I get an opportunity like this to win so much money?
And so I took it. Call me a foal.
“…and the gear should keep her alright,” Evergreen was wrapping up as I lazily drifted back into the conversation, “After all, Equestrian Athletics doesn’t lie about that kinda stuff. They’re professionals.”
“I guess so.” Blossomforth sighed again. She was taking this kinda hard. “But, I still worry. I’ve heard all the horror stories of what happens on Mt. Violet – and I don’t like it one bit. Ponies freezing to death, falling off the face of the mountain, cannibalism! Evergreen, what have you gotten yourself and Fourleaf into?”
“’Forth.” Evergreen’s tone lost all playfulness and became incredibly serious. “It’s under control. If something happens to Four, we drop everything and come back. I may be in it to win, but not at the life of the mare who I went to all the dances with.”
I blushed. “Not all of them.”
“You get my point. And besides, ‘Forth, she’ll be around my buddies. Ponies who have been climbing for years like I have, ponies who know what they’re doing and are professionals. We don’t share a love of watching other ponies fail; we all share a love for climbing.”
“It’s a bit of a terrible love, if you ask me,” Blossomforth muttered under her breath.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Then, pointing a hoof out past Evergreen, “Is this your flight?”
I turned around in unison with Evergreen. Sure enough, a red, covered airship began floating towards the edge of the platform, two terminal ponies clearing the landing while another directed it down.
A P.A. system boomed over the crowd of tourists, average ponies, and climbers like myself and Evergreen. “Attention passengers, your flight to Manechuria is just about docking. Give us another minute or two and we should start boarding momentarily. Thank you all for waiting.” A click sounded as the system turned off.
My friend looked longingly at the two of us. “Oh, dear, that’s a long flight.”
Evergreen shrugged. “It’s what it takes.”
Blossomforth nodded. “Alright, I – I should let you guys go. It’s going to be a crowded flight. Please be careful?”
“Always,” the stallion said, and lifted his sunglasses as he leaned over to give Blossom a hug. The embrace lingered for a bit, while I stood awkwardly off to the side as other ponies began walking their way towards the airship.
Once they released, I moved in. I saw a strange twinkle in Blossomforth’s eye – was that a tear? Was she crying?
She pulled me into a tight embrace, and whispered, “Please, please be safe, Fourleaf. I – I don’t know what I’d do if something happened – “ Her voice cracked and broke off.
“I’ll be fine, Blossomforth,” I whispered back, “I’ve got Evergreen and all the other climbers watching me, and I’m a tough mare. Don’t you forget that.” A pause, then: “If you don’t stop, I think I might cry.”
My friend gave a teary laugh. “Oh, Four. You always know how to cheer me up. I expect news from the mountain.”
“If I can, I’ll mail a postcard.”
“Ooh!” She let go of the embrace, fairly quickly, and in one swift motion reached into her saddlebag with a wing and pulled out a device with a strap. The device was a small thing, no bigger than a quill but kind of boxy.
“This,” she began, moving it around with her hoof, “Is a tape recorder. Do me a favor and do some sort of chronicle or report at the end of all the climbing days. You could make a book. Even if this, you know, doesn’t work, you could – “ She sniffled, still recovering from her bout of crying. “ – you could sell a book.”
“Oh, thanks, ‘Forth!” I said enthusiastically, as she put it around my neck, “This is awesome! I’ll be sure to, don’t you worry. I think I’ve used one of these before, too.”
“All aboard to Manechuria!” yelled the conductor over everypony, “All aboard!”
“Fourleaf, we gotta go,” Evergreen said.
“Right,” I replied, and then immediately pulled Blossomforth into another tight hug. She had been my best friend since I began attending Baltimare Political, coming all the way from Ponyville to take the classes. I’d definitely miss her the most.
Before I let go, I whispered into her ear, “As soon as I land, I’ll send you a postcard.”
“You better!” she said back as we let go. I backed up a bit, hoping to keep her gaze just a bit longer before I was forced onto the airship. She called after us, “Be safe! Have fun! I’ll miss you!”
“Miss you, too!” I called back, “I’ll be sure to write! Goodbye!”
“’Bye, ‘Forth!” called back Evergreen barely half as enthusiastically.
With that, we turned around and began trotting to the airship, a medium-sized, covered carriage tied to a massive red balloon that held it aloft hundreds of feet above Fillydelphia.
Evergreen reached into his own saddlebag and pulled out our two tickets, giving them to the conductor. After giving them a once-over, the conductor nodded sharply. “Welcome aboard.”
With that, we trotted across the gangplank, doing my best not to look down and set off my minor acrophobia (something I felt would not be helpful to me on this mountain.) Soon enough, we were inside the confines of the airship, and up there, while a floor held me in place, it seemed to me that I had none under me. I wasn’t falling, but there was no support.
Evergreen led me down the aisle to a small door, which he opened and with no difficulty tossed all his climbing gear. Me, not so much. I think five or ten minutes had passed by the time I had slipped all of the crazy stuff off my hard-working back except for my saddlebag full of stuff to do on the ride over and the tape recorder around my neck.
We had just barely gotten back to our seats when a voice boomed,
“Attention passengers, we are now about to begin our journey to Manechuria. It’s about a 15-hour flight, so sit back and relax – you’re gonna be awhile."
Evergreen let me get the window seat while he put on his sunglasses and began “scouting” again, unbeknownst to all the poor mares walking up and down the aisle of the airship. Typical Green. Always the “mare’s stallion” as he liked to proclaim.
I noticed Blossomforth on the platform, simply staring with a slight smile on her face at the airship. I held a small hoof up and began waving to her, hoping she’d see it.
She did. We locked eyes and waved to each other, beaming widely. Even when the airship began to move forward. Even when she was just in the corner of the window.
Until she had completely disappeared from my sight.
Now, nothing but clouds rolled by. Thankfully, the airship was covered and heated – all the nippyness that came with this morning’s dawn was now unable to reach me. Thank Celestia.
I moved around in my seat a bit, trying to find the comfort level as I thought of the mountain a bit. But, soon enough, all those thoughts got pushed to Blossomforth. I felt tinges of sadness begin to creep in.
In order to cure myself of those, I turned to Evergreen, who was now wearing, along with his stylized hoofboots and sunglasses, a wry smile. “Evergreen?” I asked.
Without moving, “What’s up, Four?”
“Have you ever been to Mt. Violet?”
“Once,” he said, “Didn’t make it to the summit. Vanderlyle and I – we got close, I suppose. Checkpoint Five is pretty darn close, if you ask me. But, some…stuff came up, and we just couldn’t do it.”
I disregarded his awkward pause. “Who’s Vanderlyle?”
“My other climbing buddy.” He turned to me, still wearing a smile. “The third member of Team Hoofboots.”
I nodded. Vanderlyle. Interesting name, I suppose.
I gave that some thought as I pulled from my saddlebag the book I planned to read, still trying to rid myself of depressing thoughts about leaving my best friend.
A fifteen hour flight, huh?
Dear Celestia.
Books, please, don’t fail me now.
When the doors opened from the covered airship, I immediately longed for the so-called “nippyness” back in Fillydelphia. Would’ve felt like tropical paradise to me.
The doors opened to snow. Tons of snow and blistering, grueling wind. Cold wind. Chills went down my spine and my teeth started chattering fairly quickly. It didn’t make any sense – there was barely a cloud in the sky. The ceiling of the world was as blue as the ocean itself. How could it be this cold?
“The sooner we get to the tent, the sooner we adjust.”
Evergreen boldly marched into the wind, and up the small hill of snow in front of me, the gear sloshing around on his back with him not worrying at all. He’s used to this. Me, not so much.
It was the first, but certainly not the last, time I thanked my hoofboots for shielding my extremities from frostbite. I took a step out into the snow, shielding my parchment-colored head from the elements by burying it in my side.
No, Fourleaf, you’ve gotta get used to it. Hold your head up high. There’s nothing to worry about.
I took a deep breath from my current position, and looked straight ahead, trudging forwards into the snow while other climbers trotted past me like it was just another day at the office. It was. For them.
After what seemed like a half-hour of walking, I covered the 20-foot distance from the loading dock to the top of the snowbank, where Evergreen had been waiting, slightly irritated. As I crested the hill, he murmured something incomprehensible.
“What….what was that?” I panted out to him.
“Welcome to your new home,” he replied indifferently.
I looked straight out in front of me.
Directly in front, the snow faded away to dirt and rocks, where rows upon rows of campers’ tents of various sizes waited for the right ponies to fill them. Flags were stationed around certain ones, and all sorts of ponies – and, mountain goats, it looked like – were milling about the place. I spotted a blue flag with our logo in black on it by one tent – Casa del Team Hoofboots.
On the other side, over to the right, high above the rest of the flags, a mountain loomed over everything. “Tall” was an understatement.
Just looking at the thing made me feel like an ant. Like an ant’s ant. No wonder you needed oxygen tanks up there – you were probably in space at that point. How did anyone get up there at all? The air pressure…I couldn’t imagine. I didn’t know too much about it, but I knew it thinned out past a certain point, at least according to the brief mountaineering science lesson Evergreen had given me on the ride over.
Even now, I noticed the change. I had been taken to events in Cloudsdale before, via hot air balloon – and air thinned out there, but never like this. Taking a deep breath like the bracing one I took earlier gave me just about as much oxygen as a regular breath did in Baltimare.
Evergreen stood, rock-steady. I began to think of him as a sort of show-off, even though he wasn’t really doing anything wrong. He inhaled deeply.
“It’s good to be back,” he said to nopony in particular. Then, to me: “Come on, Four – let’s get you situated.”
The tent flapped open and slightly warmer air greeted me. Smiling, I trotted in at a quicker pace than normal, taking a slightly-less oxygen-induced sigh of relief at the air, and, not-looking, walked straight into some unicorn who had been just sitting there.
All my stuff fell to the side and forwards with varying crashes, some just barely missing the unicorn’s head as I tried to make sure that I wasn’t one of the things falling on him.
What resulted was me over this poor, scared unicorn, just hovering over his body by placing my rigid hooves around him in such a way that I could let go and fall directly on top of him. Our eyes locked in initial fear.
And then a terrible awkwardness settled in.
I sprung off my hooves, reeling back as my eyes widened in embarrassment rather than fear. My cheeks exploded with red. Dear Celestia, I don’t even know who that was!
A chuckle came from the opening of the tent. “Seems you’ve gotten acquainted nicely already,” Evergreen’s voice wafted over.
“You’re not funny!” I yelled back rather hastily.
“Evergreen!” the voice of the unicorn I scared half to death resounded, “How goes it in Fillydelphia?”
His crooning voice could only be described as an adventurer’s. It wasn’t a Trottingham-esque voice – it retained a level of speech almost mirroring Canterlot regality, but with all the comfort of a Ponyvillian’s or a Baltimarian’s, something which Canterlot ponies didn’t possess. It also sounded weathered, but yet still young.
Then, there was Evergreen’s beach-stallion, stereotypically adolescent voice, which seemed like a combination of Generation X and, although you didn’t hear it from me, possibly some narcotics. It ruined the air the unicorn’s voice had put together. “It’s been good, Vanderlyle. Been good. This,” he said, pointing a hoof to my still blushing self, “is Fourleaf, our earth pony partner. You two’ve gotten quite close, as I’ve seen.”
“Always the comedian,” Vanderlyle chortled, shaking his snow-white mane. It seemed to flow over his deep purple fur at just the right consistency. “But, not close enough, I don’t think.”
I began looking around the room in confusion. W-what?
“If you don’t mind, I’ll take her for a stroll around camp, show her around. She’s a bit of a virgin to the climbing game, isn’t she?”
I turned to face them, having faced the wall of the tent all the way up until that point. His choice of words was a bit…unsettling to my ears. But, before I could say anything, Evergreen whined, “But, I was about to – “
“Oh, you’ve had fifteen hours with her, haven’t you? Besides, there’s quite a lot of gear scattered about.” To emphasize this, he held out a hoof and began moving it about the mess that I had created. “Wouldn’t want anything to get misplaced. I’ll take her for a walkabout, and you can, erm…tidy up.”
The purple stallion looked to me, now. His eyes were deep blue pools of complete entrancement. Sounds escaped his throat.
“What?” I asked, stirring myself out of my reverie.
“I said,” Vanderlyle repeated, “You wouldn’t mind a look-see, now would you?”
“Oh, no,” I replied calmly. Then, hurriedly, “I mean, yes! No, wait, I mean – no?” I shook my head. “Yes, I would like to be shown around.” Damn it, Fourleaf.
“Ah, good. Come on, why don’t we get this done and out of the way now, eh? While your friend cleans up around here.”
I looked to Evergreen, who now glowered at me. “Oh, no, really, I could get it – “
“No, no,” Vanderlyle cooed, “It’s quite alright. He’s perfectly fine with getting it.”
For me, personally, it was hard not to be swayed by that voice. “Alright, then.”
And together, we walked out of the tent, hearing Evergreen grumble to himself behind us.
“So, where are we going, um…”
“Vanderlyle.”
“Oh, right. I’m Fourleaf. I’m so sorry, I usually don’t forget names…”
“You’re awful jumpy,” the violet stallion noticed, “Is there something bothering you?”
“Oh, I…I don’t know,” I explained, as we trudged through the path on Vanderlyle’s “tour”. “Maybe it’s the climb. Never really been on one before.”
“Really?” Vanderlyle stopped in his tracks. “Never?”
“Nope. Unless you count Mount Rushmare.” I gave him a small smile. “But most ponies really don’t.”
“So, then – why did you decide to come along?”
Now I stopped. I stared at the dirt on the ground, hoping the answer would spring out of it. “I…I don’t know. I guess I just wanted the adventure. I’m an adventurous kind of girl. Used to read the Daring Do books all the time as a foal.” This was true, and the rest of it was a half-truth. I did read Daring Do as a foal – but, as for the mountain climbing, it was 50% adventure, 50% money.
Vanderlyle chuckled. “Ah, yes, Daring Do…I was quite the fan myself. But, I digress. You asked where we were going, didn’t you? We’re just taking a short walk about Base Camp – if anything’s important, I’ll point it out to you.”
I nodded slowly. I was alright with this setup.
And, walking commenced again.
The dirt felt slightly bumpy beneath my specialized hoofboots. And the air still felt colder than the stares some ponies give you in Manehattan, but you adjust after awhile. Even the air pressure difference ceases to exist. You automatically overcome that one.
A wind gust blew past as we rounded our “block” of tents, which was really just a row of them. As we got past them, Vanderlyle stopped outside of a pastel yellow tent with a flagpole in front. At the top of the flag, a sun gleamed over a white background. The Princess’s cutie mark.
“Is…” I stammered, trying to put two and two and two together, “Is that?”
“No,” the stallion chuckled, “That’s not Celestia. That’s a pretty big competitor, though. Called ‘Team Harmony’.”
As if on cue, a bouncing pink pony jumped out the tent, yammering away about something or other to a groggy, cyan pony, who seemed to be bearing her talkativeness like it wasn’t anything unusual. As they walked out to the front, a purple unicorn poked her head out from the tent, past the pegasus’ rainbow-colored tail, looking around for something.
“That unicorn there is the Princess’s personal protégé,” Vanderlyle noted, “She knows a bit or two about mountaineering as well.”
“Really?” I didn’t even know the Princess had a protégé. Might be tough to beat.
We continued our tour. Vanderlyle pointed out various things here and there – the mess hall, tents where some of his old climbing buddies were staying, and the local mountain goat housing.
“They practically live on the mountain,” he went on, “They’re really fantastic assistants, if you can pay one or befriend one, and they’re almost a necessity to navigate Violet.”
“Gosh. How do they even live up here?” I had been in and out of focus, but this entered my interests fairly quickly. How could anything survive here?
“They’re born and raised here. They’ve adapted. It’s pretty neat, if you ask me.”
“I’ll say. Do…do we…?”
“Do we have one?” He looked at me with those blue eyes of his, smiling. “Of course. He’s an old friend of mine. Go way back. He doesn’t seem to be here at the moment, though…”
I looked for another moment at the mountain goat housing, before some movement appeared in the corner of my eye. Following it, I turned to the left and noticed a large tent, like the one we and Team Harmony had, and a flagpole to represent the team. If you had a flagpole, it meant you were part of the Equestrian Athletics competition.
The flag was weird. It was a crudely drawn letter “A” – done on purpose to look as if it had been written by hoof. It was jagged towards the top, with the line in the letter extending past either end and slightly past the circle that surrounded the letter. The red symbol was the only thing pasted against the black background.
I pointed a hoof towards the flag. “Do you know this team?”
Vanderlyle turned from the house to me, then with a puzzling look on his face followed my hoof. “Do I know this…”
He trailed off. I expected his jolly, adventurous voice to ring out again. But it didn’t.
I turned to him, and the expression on his face turned to one of pain. I cocked my head to the side. “Vanderlyle?”
“That,” he began sternly, “Is the Black Mountaineers. And I do not know what they are doing here.” That was all he left it at. From the look in his eyes, I didn’t dare question it further. It seemed to trouble him, and I didn’t want to worry him any further.
The tour came back into my mind. I desperately wanted to get him out of this state – in the few minutes I had known my soon-to-be close companion, I found it was a lot of fun to see him happy, then when it wasn’t. “Was there anything else you wanted to show me? On the tour?”
He looked down at the ground, pulled out of his trance. Then, with the smile I had hoped for, he looked at me. “Why, yes,” he said coolly, “There is just one more thing.”
The monster shadowed the entire encampment. It was a bit away – looked like a bit of a trek to the base camp on the higher part of the mountain, but it still cast a shadow over all our tents. Snow-capped and jagged, the beast grew out of the ground like an unkempt weed. Its purple hue was what got me – so odd, so out of place, so majestic. Kinda like Vanderlyle’s fur.
I didn’t just say that.
“There she is.” His words hung in the air, lingering in the ice-cold winds. “The Purple Monster. High Violet. The Mountain of Sorrow. Mount Violet.”
My jaw hung open slightly. This thing was big. All its nicknames stood true to what they referenced – they probably understated it a bit, too.
I had heard them all before – even the one, “The Mountain of Sorrow”, though that one I didn’t quite understand. I asked Evergreen on the ride over – he didn’t know.
So, I asked Vanderlyle. “Why is it called the Mountain of Sorrow?”
He continued to stare at the beast birthed from the ground. “Probably because of what an obstacle it is. The mountain lets you climb, but it takes a toll charge. You’ll come down, injured, without prized possessions, possibly betrayed by friends, other…team members…” He seemed to pause, sort of like Evergreen did when he mentioned he didn’t make it to the summit.
The stallion shook his head, and then continued. “But most of all because when you come down, you tend not to come down with everybody you went up with.”
Then, silence. He just ended it there, leaving a really awkward moment hanging in the empty space in Base Camp. I turned to look at him. The stallion just stared at the mountain. No emotion, not happiness, or sadness – pure indifference, if I’ve ever seen it.
I nudged him on the shoulder. “Is there something wrong?”
He kept his gaze for only a moment longer, before turning to look at me. “No, not really…doesn’t pertain to you, necessarily.”
I glanced sideways at the dirt beneath my hooves. “You sure? I mean, I did take a psychology class in high school, just saying.”
He let out a reassuring laugh. To me, more than him, that everything was alright. “I don’t think I’m in need of that much help.”
He let out a mournful sigh. “I haven’t attempted this mountain since I was…a sophomore in college, must’ve been. It was then that I found out why it’s called the Mountain of Sorrow.”
More silence ensued. I was tempted to ask him what happened, but I decided not to pry. Now, a sort of remembrance took over his face. Slowly, he lifted his head and looked towards the direction of the camp.
Following his eyesight, I saw where it led to: the eerie flag of the Black Mountaineers.
I turned back to Vanderlyle, who was still glaring intently at the flag, like it was some sort of pest that wouldn’t go away. Or, like it was some large monster that he wished would leave. At this point, it was hard to tell.
Curiosity got the best of me. “What’s up with those guys over there?”
Unwavering, “They’re not ponies you really want to go climbing with, per se.” his gaze came back down to me. “I wish you weren’t so likable.”
What?
I lifted a hoof as I leaned back. This was not expected. At all. “Excuse me?”
“Well, if you were dislikable, I wouldn’t care so much that you were climbing with us.”
He turned his head to the side, his deep blue eyes inviting me to stare again. “But, you are. I’m worried you won’t come back down with us.” Then, after a slight pause, “Hell, I’m worried that any of us won’t come down.”
I righted myself again. It was hard to tell, but I think he just complemented me. I tried to reassure him. “I’m sure we’ll all be okay. You said your last climb was as a sophomore? You probably have a couple years under your belt. With your expertise – “
“Fourleaf,” he interrupted, using my name for the first time in such a way that it gave me butterflies, “Just how old do you think I am? I was in Evergreen’s graduating class at West Manehattan U.”
I tried calculating this in my head. “Well, that….that puts you at…my Celestia, you’re only three years older than I am?!?!”
“Would appear so.” He raised an eyebrow. “Why is that so shocking to you?”
“Don’t know,” I admitted, “Your voice, I guess. The ‘weathered-from-adventure’ look. I figured you were older.”
Vanderlyle raised his shoulders in a sort of shrug, and decided not to question it further. He and I began walking our way back to the main center of the encampment.
As we walked, he mentioned nonchalantly, “That puts you in college, I suppose.”
I nodded.
He acknowledged that I answered in the affirmative. “I would figure such. There’s a lot of college ponies who want to try to summit Violet.” After a short laugh to himself, Vanderlyle looked out at me from the corner of his eye. “Who knows? Maybe I won’t have to worry about you as much. I doubt any pony or force of nature would hurt a college pony as cute as you are.”
My cheeks burned a terrible red. “Aw, thank you.”
He was pretty attractive himself, but I wouldn’t tell him that.
Not yet.
