“So? We owe him nothing.”
Karat tromped miserably through the snow, keeping one eye shut against the glare of the arctic sun and the other squinting across the wastes for disturbances. Seeing none, he groaned and reclined against the protective dome that surrounded the Crystal Empire.
Karat had signed up to be a palace guard, not a perimeter patroller. He had wanted to stand ceremoniously at castle banquets, not stomp around outside the barrier freezing his fetlocks off. But Karat was shorter than average for a crystal unicorn. Not intimidating enough to make it as a public sentinel. Worse, he didn’t have a combat-centric special talent; when asked by the recruiter about the penguin Cutie Mark on his translucent flank, Karat was forced to admit he raised and cared for arctic birds in his spare time. It was a hobby about which he was very passionate, but it didn’t exactly rake in the bits.
So for the sake of the three new puffin chicks that had just hatched under his care, Karat applied for the highest paying job in the whole Crystal Empire: the Royal Guard. And while they had indeed hired him, he realized now it was just to shove him into the lowly patrolling position that none of the other members wanted. He didn’t even have a companion to talk to while making his rounds.
Needing to vent his lonely frustration, Karat bucked a nearby snowdrift, promptly losing one of his hoofguards in it. He bit his lip anxiously and began rooting around for the missing piece of equipment. Although he’d been issued the smallest sized armor available, it was still too big for him. Ditto for the helmet on his head, which kept tilting down and obscuring his vision as he searched in vain for the lost hoofguard. To Karat’s surprise however, he hit something much larger and solid inside the snow pile, causing him to yelp and jump back in fear.
What he thought was a snowdrift instead seemed to be a buried object.
Karat looked around, unsure what to do. He hadn’t expected to actually find anything out here. Should he go back inside and tell his superiors that he’d found something? Or wait, no. The first thing he needed to do was clear the snow and see what the thing in question was.
Shutting his eyes and focusing, Karat ignited a basic Kinetic Impact spell. He wasn’t a very talented mage, but Kinetic Impact was easy enough to cast. Throwing as much of his modest magic into the blast as he could, Karat sent a clumsy energy pulse out of his horn, melting the snowbank and revealing two perfectly preserved creatures inside. When Karat reopened his eyes, he gasped.
The still-frozen creatures were birds.
But... strange birds.
Karat considered himself pretty knowledgeable about arctic avians, but as he pranced around the side to look at the creatures in profile, he couldn’t quite parse what he was seeing. The things he’d found had the heads and forelimbs of chickens, but also had long scaly snake bodies and wings like thestrals.
And they were starting to move.
Whatever the bizarre chicken-snakes were, they seemed no worse for wear having been petrified and suddenly flash thawed. Karat dimly wondered if they had any magic of their own.
One of the chicken-snakes seemed less groggy and more alert than the other, pivoting to look at Karat quizzically while the other twitched and coiled up to hide it’s head under a wing like someone fighting off a hangover. Unsure what to do, Karat extended his armorless forehoof out to the more alert one, trying to communicate that he wasn’t going to hurt them. They may have only been half birds, but they had all of his awe and wonder.
With surprising speed, the more alert one slithered up to Karat, and only when it was at full height in front of him did he realize how truly large the creature was. For a split second Karat was afraid, but then the chicken-snake closed its eyes and nuzzled him affectionately. Karat exhaled in happy relief.
It felt like a dream: the miserable job Karat had been saddled with just delivered to him two new exotic avians to take in and care for. He scratched the docile chicken-snake under its chin, and the contented cooing that came from the creature was a sound more beautiful than anything Karat could have hoped to hear in these icy wastes.
A sharp cluck came from Karat’s left and he glanced over at the second creature just in time to look into it’s eyes. The crystal guard didn’t even have time to scream before the second cockatrice blasted him with its petrification spell, sending his now granite body toppling over.
The cockatrice that had been nuzzling Karat squawked in shock, appalled at its companion. Their ensuing argument was entirely done in unintelligible crowing and hissing, but in essence their exchange was:
You ungrateful wretch! He thawed us! He SAVED us!”
“So? We owe him nothing. And if a pony is foalish enough to expect gratitude from snakes, a swift petrification is what that pony deserves.”
The first cockatrice looked mournfully at Karat, who was still face-down in the snow.
We’re only half snakes,” she clucked quietly. ”And that pony didn’t TREAT us like we were any different than normal birds. I don’t think he’s ever seen our kind before.”
“I’d wager he hasn’t,” the second cockatrice tutted dismissively. ”since we’re who knows how many miles off the regular migration path. Speaking of which, do you recall why that is?”
“Please don’t...”
”Oh I remember how we got here now! It’s because YOU got us separated from the flock. It’s because YOU thought you could navigate us back on the migration route using instinct alone, but all you navigated us into was that blizzard. You know what your problem is? You’re unbearably naive. You think that if you lean into your avian side, everything will turn out sunshine and rainbooms. Well time to wake up and smell the daisies. Our species are abominations and that’s all we’ll ever be. I’m taking charge now, and we’re going back the way we came.”
The first cockatrice was still looking down at Karat. He was the only creature she’d ever met who didn’t treat her with contempt or dismissal, and that included the flock from which she’d been separated. ”I’m staying with the pony,” she decided. ”If you want to fly back to the nesting grounds, you’ll be flying back alone.”
The two cockatrices glared at each other, one seething with world-weary anger and the other trembling with fearful defiance.
”Then I fly back alone.” the second cockatrice declared. ”If he zaps you the instant you unpetrify him, then I say good riddance.”
The first cockatrice watched the other pump it’s wings and take off to the south.
”Good riddance,” she echoed once her former flockmate was only a speck on the horizon. The lonely cockatrice coiled her serpentine tail around Karat’s rigid form, gently raised him to standing position, and gazed deep into his unresponsive eyes.
Karat coughed loudly and blew out a mouthful of chalky dust. Still woozy, he put a hoof on the barrier to steady himself. As his senses returned, he became aware of a coiled, doleful chicken-snake next to him.
“Hey wasn’t there another, much less friendly one of you here?” he asked flatly. The creature pivoted to look to the south, then it pivoted to look back at Karat.
“Wow. Hexed me and then ditched you, huh? Some friend. Did you pick me back up?”
The chicken-snake shivered in response.
“Oh jeez, you must be miserable out here.” Karat touched the barrier and let his latent crystal pony magic soften a hole wide enough for someone to walk through. Or slither through.
“C’mon birdie,” Karat called back as he picked up his missing hoof guard and carried it into the climate-controlled biodome of the Crystal Empire. “First I unfroze you, then you unfroze me. That seems like a pretty good basis for a friendship, dontcha think? And friends don’t leave friends out in the cold.”
The chicken-snake uncoiled and followed Karat inside, recalling her fatalistic flockmate’s words.
You think if you just lean into your avian side, everything will turn out all sunshine and rainbooms.
”Yes,” the redeemed cockatrice clucked resolutely. ”Yes, I truly believe that.”
And then she hurried to catch up to Karat. She had a good feeling about this new place.
Author's Note
An MLP reworking of an old Aesop fable called “The Farmer and the Viper.”
