The forest remained subtle. A kind of subtlety that created peace, flowing across the land in endless waves. And everything that it touched added to the sounds of peace. It was something that could not be found anywhere else: serenity.
There were birds, too. A plethora of chirping birds that sang their unique songs through the thick pine and poplar trees. A neglected path carved through the forest, covered in patchy spots of grass where decaying pine needles and leaves rested. Moss and lichens covered damp rocks in a filmy green coat where a stream cut into the ground. It undulated against the uneven creekbed, reflecting the weak sunlight. Nature seemed oblivious to an unnatural presence, though. One that did not quite belong in the woods.
A shadow projected itself over the creek, and a burly stallion drank from the spring water. After a few moments, he raised his head and wiped his mouth clean.
Alpine Shield crooked his head around, inspecting the surroundings that spoke to him. A familiar bird, a certain landmark, even the path itself had some force or power over him. He dipped his canteen into the clear water and let his mind make connections one after another.
"I'm close," he gazed up beyond the rising morning fog. Everything was coming back to him—ranging from past memories to commonplace sights and smells—none seemed unfamiliar to him. It felt like the very first time again after hearing a childhood bird or a loon wailing in the distance. A sort of disconnection after being gone for so many years, and how much it surprised Alpine to become accustomed to the area in such a short time.
Alpine Shield turned, picking up his traveling kit and fastening it tight around his haunches, making sure his bedroll would not fall off. His leg grazed over the top of his rectangular tower shield, studying the beveled symbol of Yggdrasil inlaid at the center. It's roots and branches reaching, filtering through the shield's face at every corner. With a satisfactory nod, he slung it over his back with a leather belt.
He trotted with haste, reminiscing about the childhood he had in the very woods he was walking through, sandwiched by the snow-capped mountains. How he laughed and played with his friends, family, and just about the whole village. And Alpine Shield just found himself, laughing. Laughing at how ignorant and righteous he was as a teenager. His kind-hearted laugh carried for miles from how genuine it was.
Just thinking about his childhood made him smile. He used to be the talk of the town in his youth, owing to his immense size that rivaled grown horses. Whereas most of his villagers were dull in color, Alpine was a striking shade of blue with a white-streaked mane. The colors alone in his part of the world were far from ordinary for an earth pony.
His focus drifted to the thinning undergrowth. His heart almost leaped from his chest after the scent of blossoming flowers wafted through his nostrils. And with one last step, he found himself walking through a vast meadow of dandelions and violets where waves of gentle breezes roamed across fields. And where a rogue hill jutted up from the ground, leading him right up to its base.
"Almost there!" so many things brewed in his mind, repeating everything he was going to say and the stories he would share. Alpine Shield was so excited that he traveled all through the previous night with nothing but the Aurora Borealis lighting the way home. "Everyone's going to be so excited! My parents are—are."
"My parents . . ." the smile left his face, remembering how they felt about him leaving home, perhaps at a time when they needed him most. How they cried and begged him to stay, knowing that their little colt was grown up and ready to go out into the world. The world beyond the meadows, and the homestead.
'What will they think of me?' he knew there had to be a reason why he left home on some enigmatic pursuit. Not many ponies in his little village of Vikings were set on leaving town. And the ones who did were disowned for hurting their family's trust after such a commitment. Abandonment was no joke. Yet, he found excitement in that sense of what was out there, to the point where some found it heretical. A kind of excitement that filled him with a sickening guilt for what he did almost a decade ago.
"Why did I ever leave this place?"
Alpine shook his head, fighting off the nasty thoughts from entering his mind. Ponies might have shunned him for what he did and he accepted that possibility. But Alpine Shield knew his calling lied elsewhere. There was something extraordinary about his want to explore that nothing would talk him out of it. 'Other ponies needed me more than they did . . . I just know it . . . They're my parents, they'll understand—everyone will understand after I tell them all. I made a promise that I would return one day.'
His ears flickered as he began to hear the village's commotion just ahead. Alpine heard the hooves of foals pattering against the stone streets and their parents yelling after them. He heard the sharp crack of a blacksmith's hammer travel through the meadow. And to some extent, he could almost make out the sound of a bowed lyre playing.
He trotted up the hill where the path led him and felt sleet hit his body. Alpine smirked and chuckled, grabbing his shield and sliding it over his head as the sleet pinged against the thin steel plating. "Hehe, wouldn't be spring in Sweden without sleet-showers . . . I'm definitely back home now."
Just as the crest of the hill presented itself, so did he. The rising sun cast his shadow across the village, alerting any ponies who just happened to be looking in his direction. Nonetheless, the community kept bustling in the streets of town as he trotted down the hill. Alpine forced himself to not look, waiting for the right moment to see the town and everyone there.
Alpine Shield stopped right as the dirt trail stopped. The sounds of home were so loud and encumbering that it took him a few moments to clear his mind again. He could feel their stares as the village activities died down, reaching the point of complete silence. All the stallions, the mares, the little children; they stopped whatever they were doing and looked at him, whispering to one another in concert.
His shield slid back down, exposing his head as he glanced up with a weak smile. "I told you I would keep my—"
Alpine Shield heard the deafening ring of silence in his folded ears. His legs locked up and his eyes darted all through the cobblestone street. Or, what used to be cobblestone.
He saw no joy, no beauty . . . no life. A town devoid of virtue and pride for no one was there to show it. His mouth became sticky, and once he managed to keep his eyes open, he stumbled back until he tripped on his hooves. Even then he still managed to back away.
"N-No, this . . . This can't be it . . . It can't be!" Alpine Shield managed to stop himself as he bumped into a stone wall behind him, fumbling over his words. "Where—w-where do I—I . . ."
He gripped his chest, feeling his heartbeat without rhythm. Every part of his body tingled as black spots cluttered his vision, staring at the ruins of his hometown.
'Stop, stop it, Alpine! You're going to blackout at this rate!' everything he had learned, whether it was self-composure or sheer will, all of it disappeared in a single moment.
"Breathe, breathe . . . You can do this," he pushed himself forward against his will, afraid of the truth that his village had been long abandoned.
"Hello?"—Alpine cupped his muzzle—"hello?!"
He took his first few steps into his hometown, following the faded and cluttered streets. On top of piles of rubble were years of leaves and branches all turned into a rotting brown sludge. He did not realize how much there was until he noticed the windows in some homes were measured up to his hooves. When he found recognizable buildings and their windows intact, that is.
Alpine stared up at the blue sky, feeling the sun high up above him, chipping away at the cold air. No matter how many times Alpine walked around town, taking the same path, he continued to remain a forlorn figure. He stumbled through town in circles, waiting for something or someone to appear in front of him.
"They're gone, Alpine. You need to accept that . . ." Alpine Shield bit his lip, knowing that his mind was in the right. He figured that was the case on his first run-through of the town. Carts and merchant stalls were left to decay, even tattered scraps of moth-eaten clothing were still hung on what used to be clotheslines. But he did not want to go inside the homes as he feared what was inside.
"C'mon man, they might be gone, but there's still hope . . . Maybe there's a clue hidden around somewhere? Directions even," he said as he drank from his canteen. Alpine Shield shook his head as he started to travel to his neighborhood. It was something he loathed more than anything in the world.
Alpine Shield trotted through the streets one more time. A few smalls alleyways and a walk through what used to be someone's backyard garden made quick work of that—a garden horribly overgrown, just like the rest of town.
Vines grappled onto every home, workplace, and recreational space. They were scaly and packed with black thorns and blue tips, strangling the life out of each building. The structures were on their last limbs, if not the vines themselves. Nothing changed as he paced down the street full of memories.
Everywhere he looked, a memory was brought back from his childhood. He passed a bakery and saw himself as a small colt, asking for his family's bread or a cupcake for himself. He stopped and stared at an open lot, remembering it to be a playground before it was demolished.
"I always used to play Vikings there . . ." his eyes looked to his cutie mark, seeing a tower shield resting in front of a mountain. Alpine smiled in his moment of solace, "I got my cutie mark there wearing a full suit of cardboard armor. I was crushing so hard on a mare there just before that . . . I wonder how she's doing?"
He went on his way, seeing more places that used to remind him of home. The woodworker's shop was just next door to the playground lot. He remembered making his first shield there with a long forgotten friend, one that moved away in his colthood. But Alpine made peace with that, knowing some friends were not bound to last forever. Just like the leaves of a tree: new ones always grew back.
"Heh, who could forget the ol' blacksmith?" Alpine passed the ruined building of what used to be the town's smithy. The owner was renowned for his majestic beard and as a source of endless entertainment for all to see. Seeing that stallion work with a hammer and make miracles happen made Alpine's head spin. Alpine Shield never knew how the old stallion did it, but he preferred a little mystery in creativity.
He was so captivated by the view that he bumped into a large hunk of stone blocking his path.
"Huh?" he turned his head and looked up at the yellow-stained mass. Alpine reached up and ripped away some of the vines, revealing a statue in the town square.
"I don't remember this being here . . . W-Wait, this that—" Alpine Shield trodded back a few steps, letting the statue and its form sink in, "—is that . . . Me?"
He charged up to the statue and scraped away layers of filth, reading a plaque stamped into the stone plinth.
"Alpine Shield"
"In honor of our town's hero. Although he left to seek his calling, the lives he has touched here and the bold actions that followed will never leave our hearts, wherever he may go."
He further examined the plaque and saw the image of Yggdrasil carved into the stone just below. The same could be said for the face of the giant stone shield that his statue leaned against.
"Yggdrasil: The Tree of Life. The tree that binds us; that connects us all. It connects our worlds together so that we may never be alone. No matter how distant or hopeless, we know that you are always still with us."
Alpine Shield read it aloud, ten times over. His hind legs buckled and he sat down hard on the path. He leaned his head against the base of the statue and covered his eyes, trying to hold onto his crumbling stoicism.
"I wasn't here for them when they needed me . . . You just couldn't make time for your life back home, could you? You were too afraid of what ponies would think about you leaving town on some—some, stupid quest to find who you were when you didn't even find anything! Nothing!" Alpine slammed both of his forelegs down on the statue, swearing he could hear the thing crack under his might. "You idiot!"
"Well, you don't have to worry about that now, huh?!" he said, wiping his eyes without care, "I had a great life but God forbid I couldn't settle for that! I don't deserve to be their hero. I never did anything that would make them proud of me if what I found coming back was a ghost town . . ."
And just as he felt more hopeless than ever, he could hear whispering again.
Alpine Shield ignored the sounds in his ears, waiting for them to go away again. He lifted himself up and managed to gain the strength to pass the statue of his former self, but the whispers grew louder.
"Stop . . . Please, leave me alone," he covered his right ear just as the whispering invaded his left one.
'Why did you leave? What were you looking for out there? Why do you hate us?' Alpine forced his eyes shut as his ears were bombarded with questions. His hooves stopped Alpine from walking after a few minutes, allowing the questions to flood in.
"I never said I hated you! I never meant to hurt you! Leave. Me. Alone!" Alpine Shield went into a full gallop down the street, hoping he could outrun whoever was talking. It did not matter where he ran, he just closed his eyes and galloped until his lungs and legs could not take any more punishment.
He collected his breath, relieved that the voices were gone again at last. The wind had picked up and blew through this mane and tail, cooling his body altogether. Alpine wiped his brow as his eyes darted up a small hill before sinking back down toward his hooves. "Oh no . . . No, please."
Alpine Shield's hoof rested on the door, trying to feel it's welcoming light. He could see his mom making her famous wood statuettes and effigies while something magnificent stewed on the stovetop. His dad was in the basement, tinkering away with his inventive ideas and making plans to go fishing. He knew his own inventions had no value to anyone, but it made him happy. The house was lined with decorations and a spotless gleam. Clean linoleum, clean carpets, clean furnishings; clean everything. And Alpine saw his bedroom filled with every little thing he found comfort in. Where a comfy bed was nestled up against a wall with all kinds of shields hanging on strings.
He smiled. And for once, he was home.
"Mom? Dad?" the door creaked open, finding none of the sights in his imagination. It revealed to him a rotting squalor, instead. A thick, crusty layer of dust covered every surface, turning everything into a repulsive, gloomy color of yellow. The stench of mildew and mold lingered in the stagnant air, making his nose run and eyes water. Drawers were piled onto the ground with broken glass and torn fabric. Countless years of water damage turned the floorboards into pulp. But what did it for him was seeing a thick carpet of moss covering the dishes while a rusted faucet dripped.
He touched the doorknob to his room and promptly heard the metal knob jangle against the ground, rolling away. His room revealed nothing new. The color of yellow kept following him wherever he went, staining everything precious to him.
Alpine Shield rummaged through some of his things but did not want to disturb the uneasy peace. The place felt like a monument to him and what he was doing felt so wrong.
"C'mon, please let there be something here, anything!" he poked through his things with caution, not to mention most of the house. The staircase to the basement, however, was jammed full of debris and wood. No matter how much he searched, nothing turned up. He paced back and forth in his room, trying not to lose his composure again. As far as he knew, he was the last of his kind. Ten years had passed and a lot had happened. If there was a trail that led him to his parents, it was cold if not gone.
"Who am I without them? Who am I fighting for now?" Alpine said in the silence, "I've fought for so much, but achieved so little."
"Everything I've done . . . has it been for nothing? How many years has it been for nothing?" he scowled and hit his bed, seeing clouds of dust rise from the sheets. Gripping his head provided no comfort as he pulled hard on his mane.
"Where did you go?!" Alpine Shield backed up against a wall and slid down, ready to curl up in a ball.
"I'm s—" a small object struck the ground, waking his senses. He snatched it up in his hooves, standing over his bedside. It was a journal smothered in dirt. Somehow, it had managed to hide from his eyes while it rested on his bed. "—I-I don't remember having a journal . . ."
He wiped the front off, and his eyes lit up more than ever, "To Alpine, our son."
Alpine stormed out of the house and into the sunlight, wasting no time to open whatever clues were inside of the old book.
Alpine Shield sat down on the hill just outside of his house. He could see the entire village below him, enveloped in an eerie silence that nothing could penetrate. Although time had taken its toll, every detail around him felt at ease and in its natural state.
Without warning, he began scrolling through pages, looking for dates or entries on every piece of paper, "Mom and dad were always good at cataloging important things. I hope they continued that habit . . . Yes! here it is!"
"October 10, 1420," he said, looking out across the town, "three years ago? How could all this happen in three years?"
"Hey, Alpine. Sorry, I couldn't scrounge up anything better for you, I was kind of in a rush as you can see. I felt like I needed to put something together quickly because, well, something's happening at home. Everyone has been on edge after we heard some disturbing news. Apparently, there's talk about some pony or thing that practically leveled a town in Norway. Ponies are getting paranoid because they think that this thing is coming for us, but I think you remember how ponies get around here. Although I personally doubt it, your father and I will make sure to stay safe, sweetheart. They just need to remember we live separated from the other worlds."
He continued onto the next page.
"October 12, 1420,
"Hey there, son. I hope you're having a good time out in the other world. Pretty crazy to think about, huh? Your mom always told you that this place was Folkvangr when you were a colt, remember? It was the meadow where warriors who fell in battle would go to, and the other half would go to Valhalla. Always cut off from the rest of the world; unaffected by what went on outside. Well, uh, your mother was right about staying safe . . . That thing is coming towards us. Ponies here are still unsure about what they should do, but entire villages and cities are fleeing south and away from this—thing. Stay safe out there."
"October 15, 1420,
"The village is in shambles. Ponies are fighting on whether to leave or stay. Some are praying and some are already packing and heading south like the rest of them. I fear that the village might be torn into two sides. No one is taking any chances after hearing about the disturbing news and your father keeps trying to calm the panic. Ponies keep referring to this thing as The Black Hood. Well, I've done a little research by looking through a book of mare's tales and found out that this pony's name is actually Nightmare Moon. We don't know why it came back and we thought those kinds of things only happened across the western seas, not in Bug Bear Territory. I'll write again as soon as I can, best wishes."
"October 16, 1420,"
"We woke up this morning and saw that the village was empty. While we were asleep, a group of ponies rallied together and managed to evacuate almost everyone. Your mother and I are the only ones here as far as we know. But the worst part is that ponies took a lot of the food with them when we were running low, so we barely managed to scrape up a few potatoes and apples. Listen, we're going to stay for as long as we can. Maybe the news has found you and you're on your way? I don't know and it doesn't matter, you could come home any day."
Alpine put a hoof to his muzzle, speechless at what he was reading. More entries were written after that; ones that described a descent into madness that he wanted no part of. And so he skimmed through their desperate cries for help.
"Running low on water and food. Shortage of oil. Timberwolves are getting restless and entering the town. Starvation and paranoia is setting in. Sleepless nights. Plans for a quick getaway,"
He flipped through the pages until he saw blank space, followed by the very last page. Before he could read any more, Alpine had to convince himself to stay calm. "My God. . . They were too afraid to even leave the house, just for me. . ."
"November 7, 1420,"
"Alpine? Alpine, were so sorry but we have to leave, she could be here any minute now. Don't worry, we'll be ok. Don't you ever lose hope, you hear me? Look at your shield and your cutie mark, Alpine, and understand what they mean."
Alpine Shield unstrapped his shield and held it out in front of his face, gazing at the image of Yggdrasil again. Just by the way it was written on paper, he could tell it was very urgent from how sloppy it looked.
"Please, just stop whatever you're doing and look at your shield; look at Yggdrasil. Look at its roots and how they are permanent like your village and their pride. Look at the branches where we see how you've grown and matured, and how both of us love you very much. Even if we break off and fall, we'll always be there for you. Now, look at the leaves where all your friends are made and how precious those moments will always be. Just know that you'll never, ever, be alone as long as you have faith in this symbol. I don't know if you'll ever find this, a-and that's ok because I know you'll understand. But if you do find this, we're going to Equestria where many others fled. We love you so much, sweetheart! I'm sorry we couldn't—"
Alpine closed his mouth, staring at the exact spot where his mother's pencil stopped writing. It trailed off to the bottom as if she was pulled away by something in mid-sentence. And just as he softened his death grip, a gust of wind closed the journal.
He dropped the journal in the grass and wrapped his front legs around the handles of his shield. Alpine hung from his hooves, tired and beaten. He was so sick of thinking about their safety, wondering every second if they were still waiting somewhere beyond the meadows of Folkvangr. No amount of grieving was going to make things the same again, and so Alpine Shield saved it. Sure, it was a hard blow. But at least he knew there was a chance out there.
He reached down for the journal and put it in his saddlebags with care. Alpine gave himself a few moments to think, and to think with clarity after noticing the whispers had stopped.
"Equestria, huh?" his lungs rattled as he exhaled, rising from the dirt. Alpine glanced at the dimming sunlight, watching his village create shadows in such unique ways and shapes. The cloud over his head was lifted, finding it within himself to remain strong in honor of their wishes when he did not want to.
"If they are in Equestria, then maybe I can get answers to everything . . . Things that my parents couldn't write down," the shield sunk deeper into the soil as Alpine Shield stared off into the sky, preparing his mind and body for another journey to take its course. The feeling of opening a new chapter in his life felt liberating, starting a new quest and all. But the stakes were much higher than the last.
Author's Note
I hope you enjoyed the story. I was thinking about making more chapters to this story, but time will tell. I wrote this because the same thing happens around where I live (not by Nightmare Moon, of course). Small towns are quite literally disappearing and everything goes with them. It is unfortunate, yes, but it is the truth.
