Still so Far

There was no "time".

The storm was an eternity.

There was no light. No progress.

Only the storm.

It felt to Amissa as though she had been trotting on for days.

She was shivering cold. The wind and the rain had soaked through and stripped away the warmth from the world.

She almost preferred it to the heat of the sun. Yet she shook as she continued on.

Lightning continued to light up the sky and shake the earth. Though it no longer caused her to jump. She had begun to grow numb to the feelings of the storm.

The world was a haze, and all she could do was keep going.

She was beginning to feel weakened from fighting the storm. She knew the couldn't keep on for much longer.

She begged to the heavens for some relief from the unending downpour.

Lightning flashed nearby.

Amissa wondered if this was where she would die. If she was to freeze to death in the pouring rain, thousands of miles from her goal.

She may have been crying thought she couldn't tell.

Another flash went overhead. She missed it again.

Her strength left her, she collapsed into the mud of the path. She was sure now that she was crying, though the rain made it impossible to tell.

She was going to die. This was it.

Lightning flashed again.

She saw it.

In the distance, something. A building.

The thought was enough to get her back on her hooves. She moved slowly.

Once again it felt as though time were passing in years.

When she finally reached the structure she was truly too tired to keep on.

She could hardly see the building, but could tell that it was half collapsed.

She walked into the section that still stood. She was out of the rain.

Upon seeing some old drapes hanging over a nearby window, she trotted over and puled them down. They were dusty and worn, but intact.

She set her supply bag down in a corner and lied down next to it, pulling the thick cloth drapes over herself.

Hiding away from the wind and rain, moments ago having felt as though she were going to die, Amissa fought her own shaking. She was freezing, wet, and tired, but safe.

She let out a sigh between the chatter of teeth.

For hours, or maybe only minutes, she lay, too tired to move, but too cold to sleep. Thinking of what her traveling friends might be up to. She felt alone again.

She wondered, if she fell asleep, if she would wake up. She was afraid.

Finally, tiredness won out over cold, and fear, and she slept.

~~~~~

Amissa woke slowly.

It was quiet.

It was late evening by the look of it. The storm had finally ended, leaving a fresh, warm, thoroughly soaked world outside.

Amissa looked about the derelict structure that had saved her.

It seemed to be an old homestead, likely once the home of a family of settlers. She pondered where they may have gone.

Pushing away the heavy drapes she stood up and began looking around, searching for anything of possible use.

There was a couple of old chairs, an end table with a drawer, some broken paintings, and the remains of what may have once been a bed half trapped under the rubble of the collapsed section of the house. It was clear the place had been abandoned for years. It had probably been looted many times by desperate travelers, liker herself.

She walker over and pulled open the drawer of the end table. It was rough from years of neglect and dust. The contents rattled as it jerked open.

There was a dried up inkwell, some old quills, some paper, and a letter stamp.

Amissa picked up the stamp and looked it over.

It was heavy. The stamp itself seemed to be either brass or bronze, not that she could tell which, and had the image of a horseshoe with a clover superimposed over it. The handle was a red varnished wood, and there were traces of green wax stuck where the wood met the metal.

Amissa could only guess that the symbol was some family crest. She wondered again what may have happened that a family would disappear and leave such an heirloom behind.

She placed the stamp back in the drawer. ans went to close it, but the neglected draw stuck in place.

She hit the stubborn thing, trying to get it moving. Something rattled in the back of drawer.

Amissa reached her hoof in and felt for what had been knocked loose.

What she found was a small box of matches. She pondered if they were still of any use.

Giving the thoroughly stuck drawer one last look, she decided to leave it, and move on. She headed over to her things.

She looked down at her supplies and hoped that they were still dry. Upon opening the bag she thanked the foresight of her friends. The bag seemed to be waterproofed, with only a very small amount of water inside.

She added the matches to her things and looked to the drapes she had left on the ground.

An idea hit her.

She pulled out her knife and began cutting at the fabric. After cutting away any excess she cut a few holes and pulled out the twine. Soon she had herself a crude, sun-faded, bright pink cloak.

It was hideous, and rough, but it would keep her warmer at night, and out of the sun in the day.

Satisfied, she gathered her things and moved on.

She stepped out into the fading sun.

Looking around, something caught her eye.

She trotted over to a patch of bushes.

Pushing away the foliage revealed what she had seen.

She now knew where the family went.

She looked down at the three wooden crosses.

The world fell silent.

She looked at the graves. something crossed her mind.

She went back to the collapsed section of the house. There probably wasn't anything there, but she just had to check.

She pushed aside rubble as best she could. There couldn't be anything left, the homestead had been abandoned for years.

Then she saw it.

The bones.

Somepony had to have dug the graves.

As she revealed more, it only made here feel more sick.

Around the neck of the skeleton was the remains of a rope.

The picture came together.

Something happened, whether it was an accident, some animal attack, robbers, sickness, it didn't matter. This pony's family had died, and they couldn't cope.

So they had buried them.

They dug their families graves and then...

Amissa felt sick.

She didn't want to be there anymore. She turned to leave but...

She stopped.

She couldn't do nothing.

She turned around, searched the wreckage and grabbed a good sized piece of wood.

She gathered up the remains as best as she could, brought them over to the other graves and began digging. She didn't know why. It was just, important, for some reason.

It was as though, whatever force had shown her this place the night before, had saved her life, was asking her this favor.

It was something that needed to be laid to rest.

Amissa spent the last of the daylight digging, and burying the remains of the forgotten pony.

Once it was done, she took the piece of wood she had used, and planted it firmly at the head of the grave. She used a length of extra twine to tie another board on and form a cross.

There was one thing left she felt the need to do.

She bowed her head and whispered thanks and peace to whatever spirit may have still lingered there.

For a single instant she swore she heard the wind whisper in reply.

She smiled.

Her work, was done.

She turned to face her path, and left.