Author's Note

Okay, we're really getting into it now. I don't think I'll be able to keep up this pace forever, especially when school starts, but I've got a few chapters written in advance and I think I'll be okay so long as I keep five chapters ahead.

Reeds and Stars

Thistle sat a little ways off from the herd. They hadn’t moved on yet, staying by the river. There didn’t seem to be many wolves, if any, or any other large predators, and there was food and water aplenty. A perfect place to wait for new foals. Several mares were close to foaling.

It gave time for Oak Leaf and Mountain Shadow to recover from their wounds. Oak Leaf was already much better, but Mountain Shadow’s legs would take longer to heal. Morning Dew was doing everything she could for her friend, bringing food and carrying her away from the herd to dispose of waste.

Thistle sighed, lying down on the soft grass. Two days had gone by, and she’d filled them with all the lessons Enduring could handle. Medicines mostly, though she’d found time to get a new water gourd. She’d more or less mastered swimming and now had a bit of free time to work on that reed project from before. The idea of making a nest basket for carrying things.

She was going to need more reeds. The amount she’d brought back was nowhere near enough for what she had in mind.
But she felt too tired to go collect more. The Lead Mare’s words kept ringing in her ears. And ever since she’d mentioned it, Thistle had been able to hear other ponies’ words about her. They called her magic-touched.

She’d braided the reeds she had into a hoop. She needed more for the sides and bottom, and then she must weave willow rope in somehow to tie it to her body. Not around her neck, she already had the gourds there. It would be difficult to tie around her barrel though. Perhaps she could balance it somehow?

She couldn’t do any more without gathering more reeds. She sighed and set the project aside. Maybe she’d feel better after joining Enduring in a nap.

She looked over her shoulder. Enduring had walked her through making a poultice for open wounds, then laid down to sleep. Oak Leaf stood in a light doze a few feet away. Thistle hadn’t gotten around to asking about his relatives yet. She’d better do that soon, before Enduring recalled that he was her sire.

Mountain and Morning were sleeping nearby too. The loco-roots made Mountain groggy, and Morning was tired out from caring for her all day.

Thistle rolled onto her back, scratching a persistent itch. Was she getting fleas? It was the season for them.

Well, no flea liked taking a bath. Thistle set her gourds beside her project and waded into the water. It was cool against her withers, and she allowed the current to carry her downstream a bit. Now that she’d mastered swimming she found it was actually a lot of fun! It made her laugh to know she’d been scared of the water only a couple days ago.

She came back to shore in the midst of the herd. The itch was gone from her back and she gladly shook the water from her coat. She flipped her wet mane out of her eyes. That was a refreshing swim, she ought to try this more often.

As had become her habit, Thistle twisted around to stare at her flanks. The picture was still there. Enduring had never heard of a fur pattern changing so drastically before. They had to assume it was some mark of the Light-That-Wasn't.

It wasn't hurting her and staring provided no answers, so Thistle turned her focus back to the reed project. She still didn't feel like collecting more reeds, but she had little choice in the matter. She had to be doing something productive.

She flipped the hoop around her neck and turned back downstream. She had to walk by a few chatting ponies. Their conversations grew stilted and hushed as she passed by. Beyond those ponies were three foals, skipping rocks over the water to amuse themselves.

"Where ya going?" One of the fillies called out, putting down her rock as Thistle's shadow passed over her.

"Downstream." This was Pink Peach, right? Thistle suddenly recalled that this filly, a year older than her, was her cousin. They'd played together a few times, all foals played together sooner or later.

"What for? You're always doing cool stuff!" The single colt in the group bounced to his hooves. His name was Pucker Thorn, wasn't it? He liked playing Wolves and Ponies.

"I'm collecting reeds." She briefly touched the hoop circling her neck.

"Why?" The last filly cocked her head to the side. Thistle didn't actually remember her name. She had white hair and a cobalt blue coat. She was much smaller than Pink and Pucker but obviously she was old enough to play away from her dam. The most curious thing about her was that one of her eyes was bigger than the other. Just a bit.

"Because I'm trying to make something new." Thistle explained. "I want to make something I can carry stuff in, like a gourd, but not hanging from my neck."

"We can help!" Pucker boasted excitedly.

"Yeah, and all the adults will be so impressed!" Pink's eyes widened.

"Wouldn't you rather keep playing?" Thistle asked them.

"We can play any day." The smaller filly reasoned quietly. "Please, let us come help? We'll do whatever you say." She offered. The other two eagerly nodded in agreement.

"Fine, you may accompany me." Thistle rolled her eyes. What was so exciting about reeds?

"My dam says you're magic-touched." Pink Peach informed her.

"I suppose I am." Thistle sighed. Everypony had been knocked out by the Light-That-Wasn't. She wasn't the only one changed, it's just that her changes were...bigger? Easier to see?

It frustrated her that she couldn't understand this. What was that Light-That-Wasn't? What had it done to them?

"Is the picture on your flank magic?" Pink tapped the spot with her hoof, causing Thistle to jolt a little.

"It appeared when I was helping Mountain Shadow and Morning Dew." She explained. "I guess it's magic, but it hasn't done anything since it appeared."

"...My dam says we'll leave those two behind because Mountain will weaken the herd." Pink looked oddly determined when she said this. Thistle stopped to take her in fully.

"The Lead Mare says that so long as Morning can keep up while carrying Mountain they'll be allowed to stay with the herd." She tried to project the same confidence the Lead Mare had shown her.

Pink's ears folded back a bit. The other two foals took two steps back, away from the possible confrontation. Thistle noticed that Pink's eyes had narrowed. Was she angry? Was she afraid?

This was her cousin. Thistle didn't want to frighten her cousin.

"Mountain's legs will heal. I can't say for sure how well, or if she will ever be the same, but they'll heal." She spoke softer, relaxing her posture.

"I...was only saying what my dam said." Pink said hesitantly.

"Well, what is your opinion?" Thistle asked kindly.

"I think..." She paused to give this due thought. "I think it would be mean to leave them behind."

"I think so too." Thistle smiled. "It'll be hard, but I think Morning can manage to carry her well enough."

The reeds really weren't all that far. Not even halfway towards the waterfall. All four ponies gathered as much as they could carry. They made competitions of who could weave it tightest, who could carry more. It was the first time in more than a week that Thistle had spent any real amount of time with foals her age. She'd missed it.

But she still didn't know the smaller filly's name. Nopony had said it yet. Or even a nickname. It was usually pretty easy to see who was being addressed.

If Morning could do it on the walk back to the herd, then she could too.

"I'm sorry for not asking sooner, but what's your name?" She gulped, nodding towards the filly. "I know Pink Peach and Pucker Thorn, but I don't think we've ever played together."

"I am Dim Light." The filly answered demurely. "I don't really like the run and shout games." She added.

"Dim Light, I'll remember that." Thistle promised.

"Okay, so we've got the reeds. Now what?" Pucker held up a hooffull.

"Now we make a basket." And figure out how to hold it on her back without it falling off. Maybe...two baskets, hanging from her sides by a strap across her back?

"Burr, der yew are." Enduring trotted over. Seeing her mentor approaching, Thistle set aside her reeds and stood.

"Wha'chu got der, filly?" The old mare sniffed at the pile of reeds.

"I'm trying to create something to carry more stuff." Thistle repeated her explanation.

"Hmm," Enduring nodded along thoughtfully. "Seems ta me ye've got a fine idea der."

"Wha'chu gonna carry in dat 'basket' of yers?" She looked around at the circle of foals.

They blinked. They considered the reeds at their hooves and the similar expressions of confusion on their faces. Pink Peach had a water gourd. Thistle had three gourds, one for water, one for nuts, and one for oats.

Oats and water would spill from the basket. She could fill it with nuts, but that would take weeks of careful searching. Flowers and grass could be found everywhere, and did not keep for long. And other things? Say she put a pretty rock in her basket and carried it with her everywhere she went. What for? Sure, it was pretty, but pretty rocks could be found everywhere.

"You could carry more gourds." Dim Light suggested. "One gourd has enough water for a day or two, but what if it takes longer than that to find water? You'd have a generous supply and wouldn't need to have ten or more gourds hanging from your neck."

"Da's a good idea, little filly." Enduring eased herself down.

"Medicine." Thistle's eyes widened, hooves going up to her gourds as she recalled filling one with the plants she'd needed. And smashing it to retrieve the plants later. "I could put medicine in the gourds, so I wouldn't have to hunt for the plants when somepony gets hurt!"

"Sounds like a right fine idea, dat does." She chuckled. "So how yew goin' about makin' dese here 'baskets' anyhow?"

"Weaving them, like we do to make rope, but I'm trying to weave these into a nest shape." Thistle explained.

It took a few hours and two more trips to collect reeds, but eventually the five ponies managed to make their first baskets. The Sun was beginning it's descent then, so the three other foals went to their dams for the night after promising to return in the morning. Thistle kept their piles neat and separate to await their return.

"Alright now, Burr," Enduring rolled onto her back. "Take a break from dat weaving n' such ta look at dees stars. Ain't dey purty?"

"Yep." Thistle joined her mentor on her back. "Where do they go during the day?"

"I reckon dey follow da moon. Dey go beyond da horizon ta shine on ponies far, far away." She sighed.

"How many herds do you think there are?" Thistle asked. "Running into another herd doesn't happen often. Is it because there aren't a lot of herds or because there's just so much land?"

"Der's a lot o' herds out der, Burr." Enduring shook her head. "I done seen more'n I can count, n' I can count to more'n a hundred. I seen ponies dat yew can't even imagine."

"What do you mean?" She frowned.

"To da nord, where der be lots of mountains an' valleys, I once ran wid a herd o' ponies who had horns on dey heads." Enduring sketched a shape of such a pony with her hoof in the sky. "Dey call demselves unicorns. Funny sort, but friendly enough. Dey scrape der horns against da rocks to make'em sharp."

"Huh." She considered this.

"Yup, and dey small dings too!" Enduring cackled. "Da stallions ain't no bigger den a full grown mare here. Dey skinny too. Dey foals are da tiniest wee dings ye've ever seen."

"Stallions only as big as a mare?" Thistle giggled. "That's crazy! What do they do when they have to fight?"

"Dat's why dey sharpen der horns, dey jab at wolves an' such." She nodded sagely.

"What other strange ponies are there?" She looked up at the starry expanse of the sky. The moon wasn't yet half full, but it had the prettiest glow.

"Der are ponies wid wings to da far east, by da coast." Enduring told her.

"Wings?" She turned over, giving her mentor a dubious look. "Are you trying to trick me? A horn's not much, but wings?"

"I ain't tryin' ta trick ya, Burr." She chuckled. "Now, I didn't run wid dees ponies, but I talked to a few of dem. Call demselves pegasus. Dey can glide quite a ways wid dose wings."

"Dey ain't as big as we are, but dey ain't so small as da unicorns neither. Don't weigh much though." She sighed, thinking of the days of her youth.

Thistle's first impulse was to say she didn't believe her. Ponies with horns? Ponies with wings? What sort of madness was that? Enduring had to be teasing her.

But she wasn't sure. Enduring had never lied or tricked her before, even with the things she found unimaginable. And Enduring was over forty years old. She must've run far and wide during her travels. She must've seen things nopony else had ever seen before.

If such ponies existed though, then Thistle wanted to meet them. She wanted to run with them. She wanted to see and do things ponies ages from now wouldn't be able to believe.

It was the first dream she'd ever had. Maybe the first dream anypony had ever had. A dream that had no clear objective, no obvious result, and no real deadline. It was a concept.

Thistle settled in at Enduring's side and focused on the constellations. Enduring said that anypony who knew the stars could never really be lost.