I am not an angel.
Nulla: Approach
Red and blue holiday lights dance over the horizon as the cable car station grows farther and farther away. The distant crowd of ponies clad in holiday garb loses its shape and form, becoming first a blob of shapes and then a distant memory.
“Hey, Red?”
“Hm?”
“You never told me why you do this.”
The world is falling away outside of the cable car window. It drops deeper and farther, with trees and rocks shrinking into nothing more than distant spots on the horizon.
I sigh and watch as my breath escapes my lips, fogging up the glass and obscuring the world behind it. “It’s hard to explain.”
She nods, tugging absently at her coat sleeves.
“I don’t suppose you’ve ever been on a winter hike before?”
She doesn’t respond, and I can only guess that she’s lost in thought.
I’ve usually made the trip alone. It was a habit that didn’t begin from necessity, but rather I never saw the need to drag others into what they would surely call a pointless affair. I will confess that I had dreamed of the day when a friend would come along, to share this hidden and holy world that I relish so deeply.
I never thought it’d be her.
To be frank, I don’t know why Night Glider entered my life. I received a letter in the mail one day from a name I didn’t recognize, claiming to be interested in the field of medicine. I found this odd at once, for I was neither a doctor nor a specialist. But Night Glider was relentless, and soon we began to communicate regularly.
It was only a matter of time before I told her of my yearly tradition, and once I did she insisted to come along.
“Night Glider?” I call her name and she returns to the earth with a start.
“Wuh?” She blinks, a few coughs escaping her. “Sorry, sorry.” A light pink tinges her cheeks as she rubs the back of her head. “I was just… thinking.”
“Well there isn’t any harm in that,” I answer with a chuckle.
Night Glider smiles in return. “So is it the view?”
“The view is fantastic, but it wouldn’t be the only reason,” I answer as the cable car sways a bit in the wind. “I suppose that you’ll know it when you see it.”
Night Glider shrugs with a sigh. “I guess.”
I give her a grin as I take a sip from my thermos. “The best way I can put it is that it just feels right.”
She gives a friendly laugh at that.
Friendly. It’s a strange word to use. I’m not quite sure if we are friends, after all.
“You’re a strange mare, Redheart,” she says.
And you are too, Night Glider, I muse quietly. You are too.
I: Base
I know white. I have seen it in the walls and sheets of the hospital, and have come to pair it with the faint and distant beeping of hospital machinery. I have come to loathe how sterile and plain it is, because it is lifeless. It is nothing more than a blank canvas that I am barred from painting.
And I have grown to hate it in the mirror too. But it is there, covering my body and sides, endless and unmoving, plain and oppressive in its very nature.
Here too is white.
But it is different. I’ve convinced myself of that. The white of the snow is beautiful. It is an untouched ocean that sprawls farther than I can see. It falls in bits and pieces from above as if the heavens were shedding tears, crying for something that I could never hope to comprehend.
The white is why I’m drawn here.
The purity is not lost beneath the reds and greens of holiday lights, strung along the cabin walls like spider webs. Even if its surface is marred beneath hoofprints and other markings, it is still soft and comforting.
I’ve been called romantic before, but I don’t believe this is love. I consider it to be nothing more than a quiet appreciation for something that nature has had forever to perfect.
But I’m not certain that I can ever explain it.
“Hey, Red?”
I stand stock still, with eyes closed and face turned up to the sky, as snowflakes collide with my mane and body. I hear her shuffling behind me, uncomfortable in her jacket and boots. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me. Most pegasi I’ve met are restless beings, who can not stand to be in one place for more than a second. “Yes?”
“Are we just going to stand here all day?” Night Glider asks.
A frown tugs at the corners of my mouth but I am able to fend it off. “Of course not,” I sigh. Turning around, I see her a few steps behind me, wings unfurled and her body shivering slightly.
A twinge of pity strikes me, seeing her like that. She tightens her scarf with a strange sort of awkwardness, her breath solidifying in front of her face. “Not that I’m complaining,” she adds. “I’m just… y’know, cold.”
“I can see that,” I answer before trotting forwards. “Come on then, let’s get some cocoa in you.”
She perks up and follows me towards the camp’s lodge.
The camp surrounds us, with log cabins forming a small circle around a snowed-in courtyard. A path marked by lanterns leads up to the mountain, and the sight welcomes me like an old friend. The lanterns glow gently in the dark evening glow, almost distracting me from the questions and thoughts that are brewing a storm in my mind.
I glance backwards at Night Glider, who is attempting to catch a snowflake on her tongue.
A part of me is worried. Suspicious, perhaps. But my rational mind tells me she’s harmless. I can only hope it’s correct.
We reach the cafeteria building and head inside, instantly enveloped by a blazing warmth from the fireplace. Nearly two dozen ponies are inside, gathered around tables and enjoying warm drinks and food.
“Wow… more ponies than I thought,” Night Glider says. “Kinda figured it’d just be us.”
“This place is a nice destination for vacationing ponies,” I reply. “A lot of traditions have been birthed in this place. Do you have any traditions?”
Night Glider scuffs a hoof against the snow. “Not really. Most of my friends are off reconnecting with their families and stuff… which leaves me here. With you.”
“Well, I’m happy to have you here. Come on, the camp chefs always have an excellent selection of food and drinks,” I reply with a smile.
But I pause just as I cross the threshold. Something seems wrong. The conversations are not happy and merry. Faces are laced with worry and concern, and a heavy cloud seems to hang in the air. It’s a strange juxtaposition to the bright green wreaths and decorated sweaters.
“What’s going on?” asks Night Glider from my side.
“I’m not sure,” I reply, weaving my way through the throng of assembled ponies.
As we fight our way to the front, I see a small group assembled, apparently giving instructions to the crowd. A few of them are dressed in police uniforms, and I recognize the camp’s medical chief consoling a sobbing mare while a somber stallion stands beside them.
They wear matching family sweaters with smiling snowponies and hoof-stitched snowflakes. Seeing them drenched in sorrow tugs at my heart.
“Redheart!” calls a voice from my right. A quick glance shows a familiar face trotting over.
“Gloriosa? What’s going on?”
The camp director is usually a cheery, optimistic mare, one who never fails to lend a hoof when needed. But tonight she bites her lip and her face is carved with worry. A slight panic seems to well behind her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here, Redheart,” she whispers before pointing a hoof at the crying couple. “We have a missing foal.”
Night Glider gasps. “What? How’d that happen?”
“She got into a fight with her parents,” Gloriosa explains. “Then just stormed out.” She tugs on my coat sleeve. “Redheart, she’s not equipped for this! You know how dangerous the trails can be, especially in these conditions!”
I frown, my own heart fluttering in my chest. “Of course. How can I help?”
“We’re putting together a search party,” explains Gloriosa. “We need to find that foal. Please. Will you help?”
“Of course we will.” The answer does not come from my lips, though my mind says the same. Night Glider gives a confident nod. “We’ll find her. I believe it!”
Gloriosa gives a thankful smile. “Thank you. Both of you. Come, we have some supplies we’re distributing to volunteers.”
We follow Gloriosa to the front of the room, but as we move I find myself falling in step behind Night Glider.
I know white. White is recurring, plain, and unassuming. It is something I expect, and something that is almost comforting in its familiarity.
Night Glider is not white.
In fact, I don’t know what she is.
II: Climb
The plan is simple.
The volunteers have been divided into groups, and each group assigned a sector to search. Tourists and visitors who have little experience will search the surrounding areas by the camp, while the more experienced hikers will climb higher and higher to leave no stone unturned.
While it is sensible, this plan puts us in an odd position. While I am intimately familiar with the trail up the mountain, Night Glider has never tread on it before. Her unfamiliarity with the area also would hinder her ability to help with an aerial search. But in the end I decide that my experience should be enough to guide her, even if I must look out for her along the way.
The bags Gloriosa gave us are packed with supplies: blankets, first-aid kits, canteens of warm water, foal-sized jackets from the gift store. Most importantly, we both carry a signal flare to be used should we locate the foal.
Wishing Well. Her name is Wishing Well. She is only six years old.
In my career I have met failure before. I pray that I don’t encounter it tonight.
“Ready?”
Night Glider nods, tightening her scarf and adjusting her hat. “Ready.”
We set off, making our way up the snowy path and towards the top of the mountain.
“You really weren’t kidding,” Night Glider mutters as she tugs on the edge of her scarf again. “It’s really cold out here.”
“I thought pegasi had natural insulation?” I ask.
Night Glider shrugs. “I dunno… maybe I lost it back when Starlight… yeah.”
I understand what she means and decide not to push the matter any further.
Night Glider lost a lot of her life in that dreaded village. She’s spoken of it briefly in letters, recounting how her memories of the time before are muddled and confused. I pity her deeply, missing time like that is something I would never wish upon anyone.
“The first part of the trail is actually a bit more difficult,” I call out to her. “It’s a bit steeper than the later parts, which tends to make inexperienced hikers’ legs sore.”
“Well I don’t think that’ll be a problem!” proclaims Night Glider as she hops up with a few flaps of her wings.
“Ah, right,” I answer. “Well either way, it’s best you don’t overexert yourself. We have a long way to go.”
Night Glider salutes before scanning her surroundings. “Geez. A six year old foal lost in this?”
I sigh, sharing her worry. “I know. I’m worried for her, and I can’t even imagine how her parents must feel.”
“Hey, we’re going to find her,” Night Glider answers as she dips a little lower. “I believe in us.”
I can’t help but smile at her optimism.
My hooves relish the crunching of snow beneath me, and the sharp crack of breaking branches echoes beneath my hooves. It’s a peaceful, easy feeling, one that I spend my entire year longing for.
And as much as it hurts, I’ll have to set it aside for now.
“This is pretty messed up, huh,” Night Glider mutters. “I mean, tonight is supposed to be about campfires and presents and stuff. Not… this.”
I nod in agreement. “I can’t say I anticipated this either. I certainly wouldn’t wish it upon any family…” Night Glider’s coughing makes me pause. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, fine,” she mutters, grabbing her thermos and lapping up the warm water. “This cold weather is… messing with my throat.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Maybe you shouldn’t have come along after all?”
“Hey, I’m here already,” she snaps. “I’m not going to quit now.”
A strange fire burns in her eyes. It’s something I haven’t seen from her before, and something that makes me regard her with a cautious eye.
“...sorry,” she mutters, rubbing the back of her neck. “I just… I don’t like being told I can’t do something.”
I bite my lip, my eyes drifting across the endless expanse of tall, dead trees. “Is it something you want to talk about? We have a long way to go, after all.”
Night Glider frowns, tapping her chin. “I… hm. Maybe in a bit. I just… I don’t know, it’s hard for me to talk about.”
I nod in understanding. “Very well. I won’t force you.”
We continue our trek upwards, accompanied by the voice of the wind and the call of the snow. I came here once in the spring, to a world that seemed so completely different from the one I knew. The technicolored leaves bloomed everywhere, and animals seemed to chirp and call from every crack and crevice.
I didn’t like it. It was too different, too noisy, too loud. It wasn't the same as the winter air, the cool breeze that flows to the sky, or the gentle sound of snow crunching beneath my hooves.
Something speaks to me. It speaks during the spring, too, but it sings a different song.
“Wishing Well? Wishing Well?”
A group of volunteers emerges from the brambles to our right. We exchange waves and they shake their heads, motioning that they haven’t had any luck.
Night Glider sneezes, which throws her a bit off course. She quickly rights herself and shivers again, pulling the zipper to her jacket up tighter. “Geez, it’s really, really cold,” she mutters.
As I take her in, I realize how thin she is. It’s quite common for pegasi to be on the leaner side, especially the more athletic ones, but Night Glider’s body seems thinner still. Her wingtips seem to tremble in the frigid air, and each wing beat draws from her a labored breath.
“Night Glider.” I take on my professional tone, the one usually reserved for uncooperative patients. “Are you really feeling fine?”
She sighs, teeth almost audibly chattering. “I… can we take a break soon?”
I glance up the path, quickly calculating exactly where we are. “We’re less than halfway to the river. There are some facilities there, do you think you can make it?”
“P-piece of cake,” she answers, tightening her scarf again. Before I can protest she flies forwards, taking the lead. “I gotta say, though… so far I’m just seeing a lot of snow.”
“The beauty of this mountain is in everything,” I answer, trying to shake my concerns for her health. “You’re seeing things in parts. You have to see the whole picture.”
Night Glider squints against the wind. “Well… I see snow, dead trees, rocks, more snow…”
“You’ll get there,” I reply with a roll of my eyes. “Anyways, the ascent is going to get steeper from here on out.”
“Wings, remember,” Night Glider answers. “Doesn’t matter for me.”
“It will when you land,” I observe.
The hill in front of us is indeed getting higher. From here the path temporarily becomes a series of rocks to step on, and my attention is preoccupied with picking out the most sturdy ones to lay my hoof on.
“Hey, Red?” Night Glider asks.
“We’re almost at the river,” I answer, placing a hoof on a shaky rock and quickly pulling it back.
“You must have some good medical stories, huh?”
I chuckle, hoisting myself over the final rock and back onto smoother ground. “You better believe I do.”
“What’s your craziest one?”
“Hm… Well, I do remember that there was one time back when I was just starting out,” I begin. “I was assisting in the emergency wing and was helping with a new charge. A young pony, just in his teens if I had to guess. And in a considerable amount of pain. He wouldn’t tell us what had happened, only that there was significant pain in his rear. So the doctor began an X-Ray and that’s when we found…”
I trail off as Night Glider quickly devolves into another series of coughs. But something about them makes my ear twitch. Her coughing grows in intensity, and when I look up at her I see tears welling in her eyes.
“Night Glider! Land, now!” I shout. She obeys, stumbling to the ground. I’m at her side instantly, catching her and leading her forwards.
After a few steps we enter a clearing, with some facilities and a picnic table nearby. The Snowfall River is eager to greet us, the rushing water pounding in intensity.
A quick swipe of my hoof clears some snow from the bench, and I set my companion down on it.
“Inhaler,” she chokes. “I… I need…” Her hoof swipes at her saddlebags, and I quickly step in. I locate it and pull it out, holding it out to her. Night Glider swoops it up like a stranded sailor would a canteen of water, and I take a step back to let her rest.
I sigh as I watch her hunched over, taking deep, hacking breaths as her entire body seems to tremble.
The river roars behind me.
III: Higher
Snowfall River hasn’t completely frozen over yet. The water is still rushing hard and fast, surging forwards relentlessly. The sound of the river is soothing, and even if the water is half-frozen, it does wonders to warm my heart.
It takes a few minutes for Night Glider to resituate herself, but I’m happy to wait. She clutches her thermos tightly, before drawing the hood on her jacket and sighing slowly. “Sorry about that,” she mutters. “I, uh… thought I could get it under control?”
“Get what under control?” I ask neutrally.
“I uh,” she pauses to take a few more breaths. “I have asthma,” she admits bashfully. “And I’ve never really dealt with this kind of weather before.”
I nod, having figured as much. “Oh! Well… maybe you should have told me that before we left?” I sigh, glancing up the mountain. The snowfall hasn’t gotten stronger, but it’s been falling at a fairly steady rate.
“Yeah, I guess I left that out, huh?” She ruffles her feathers, drinking from her thermos again.
“You better head back to camp then,” I say. “I can finish searching our sector on my own.”
Night Glider leaps to her hooves in a sudden bout of defiance. “No!” she yells, her volume catching me off guard. “I’m coming with you,” she declares. “Wishing Well is depending on us!”
I turn around to face her, frowning. “Please, Night Glider. We’re not even sure if she’ll be there. Your health--”
“Isn’t important,” Night Glider answers, trotting to my side. “Red, look. I… I want to do this. I want you to prove me wrong. Please. Just let me try.”
I sigh, holding up a hoof to ward her off. “Fine, but if I get the slightest hint that you’re feeling ill, I’m sending you back. And don’t think you can pull a fast one on me either; I’m a nurse after all.”
Night Glider gives a salute, and we turn to the river. I lead the charge, pausing at the bank and considering it carefully. The river is shallow enough that a bridge was never constructed, but fording it remains a challenge. Its fierce speed can sweep away an unsuspecting pony… I can only hope that didn’t happen to Wishing Well.
I set forth, taking it one step at a time. My snow boots help me with traction, but I still have to be careful--
I slip.
The rock I picked slips away, and I’m thrown to the right.
But before I’m whisked away by the river’s might, a wing shoots out to stabilize me.
A quick glance shows Night Glider right at my side, giving me a wary grin. “Easy there, Red! I don’t think I can make it back down without you.”
“Thank you,” I reply with relief as I reset my hooves.
Night Glider starts to say something, but quickly bites it down.
I ford the river with her help, exhaling when I set hoof on the shoreline. We waste no time in continuing the hike, with only my hoofprints falling in line behind me and Night Glider’s wing beats to break the silence.
Everything feels wrong tonight. It occurs to me that maybe I’m dreaming, and that none of this is happening. In my eagerness to prove it, I gently slap a hoof against my other foreleg. It only makes me wince in pain, meaning that I’m really here and a foal is really missing.
I sigh in defeat.
“Wishing Well!” Night Glider shouts.
A quick glance of the horizon shows that it is void of flares, meaning that nobody else has found her.
I pull my hat’s brim lower and grit my teeth as a breeze of wind seeps through my clothes. “Wishing Well!” I call again.
The forest doesn’t answer.
“Gosh,” Night Glider mutters. “I sure hope someone finds her, even if it isn’t us.”
“I agree,” I answer. “That poor filly… she must be scared out of her mind. All alone out there in the cold…”
Night Glider frowns, fiddling with her coat sleeves again. “I can relate to that much,” she sighs.
I stumble over a loose branch. “Oh?”
“Y-yeah,” Night glider murmurs, sweeping the area with her flashlight. “I don’t really remember much from before I lost my mark, but… I do remember being alone for awhile.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I reply.
Night Glider shrugs. Her voice is nearly drowned by the wind, but it finds a way to keep breathing. “Mostly because of my asthma. My mom made me sit out of any strenuous flying exercises. That of course meant I couldn’t really… hang out with the other pegasi.”
She lands by my side, eyes a bit glossy and trained forwards.
“Looking back, I guess that’s what drew me over to Our Town in the first place. I thought I could finally fit in somewhere.” Night Glider lowers her head and sighs. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”
I offer her a smile. “It’s okay. I’m glad to listen.”
“Yeah, part of being a nurse huh?” She chuckles and shakes her head. “I… I guess I trust you, Red.”
“Why is that?”
We pause at a fork in the trial. The left trail runs parallel to the river, leading deeper into the forest, while the other continues to climb the mountain. “I…” Night Glider trails off, staring intently at the signpost. “How do you mean?”
“Well, you seem… drawn to me, for lack of a better word,” I answer, turning to look at her. She fails to meet my eyes. “And you’ve been a fantastic companion, I’m not disrupting that. But I guess I am wondering why in Equestria you picked me out of all ponies to seek out.”
Night Glider is quiet for a second. “I guess it was just a gut feeling,” she finally says.
I raise an eyebrow. “A gut feeling? Really?”
“Really,” she assures, giving me a friendly punch on the shoulder. “So which way are we heading?”
“Right,” I answer, checking the flareless sky again. “It shouldn’t be long now before we reach the top.”
She extends a hoof forward, and we set off again. The snow is a bit deeper up here and the path grows steeper, meaning I have to put more effort into every step. But I like to think of this as the fun part.
“Hey, Red?” asks Night Glider, shaking snow from her mane. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“What drew you to being a nurse?”
I let out a low hum, tapping my chin. “I believe it was me getting my cutie mark. When I was a young filly a group of friends and I went on a hike during our summer camp. It should have been an easy and safe trip, but as luck would have it we got caught in a small landslide. One of my friends broke their legs and got stuck.”
“Geez,” Night Glider says with wide eyes. “What happened next?”
“Well, one of my friends went to get help. I realized that I had to help her, so I managed to make a splint out of some branches and vines,” I explain. “After setting her leg I had to keep her calm until help arrived. She was fine, bless her heart. I didn’t notice until later that I had gotten my cutie mark.”
“Sounds like you’re a real hero,” Night Glider chuckles.
I snort. “Oh, nothing of the sort. I just do what I can and hope it will be enough.”
Night Glider pauses, glancing at me strangely. “You… you really don’t think you’re a hero?”
I shake my head once. “I am not a hero, and I am not an angel,” I answer with a chuckle. With that, I pick up my pace. “Come on, it’s getting late. We’re almost to the top now.”
Night Glider mutters something, but this time I don’t hear it.
IV: Discovery
The air is thinner near the top.
I’ve mostly considered the difference to be minimal, but with Night Glider in the equation I’m less certain.
“Are you feeling okay? Do you need to take a break?”
“No! Please, stop asking me every five minutes,” Night Glider grunts. “I’m fine, Red. But I’m not one of your patients.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “I’m worried for you, that’s all.”
“I know,” she replies with a slow exhale. “Sorry.”
I shrug it off, tugging on my own scarf. An owl hoots from somewhere within the tree bank. The path grows narrow here as we climb the mountain, with a steep drop-off to our right side dotted with rocks and barren, naked trees.
“I’m going to climb higher,” Night Glider reports. “See what I can see.”
I nod and watch her climb higher, squinting against the wind and scouring the landscape below for anything.
As she hovers, I think back to the story she told me earlier.
I must confess that I can see a bit of myself in that tale as well. The quiet, sullen filly who often kept to herself, lurking like a shadow in the corner of rooms and watching as the world passed her by…
Loneliness can strike at any time. I’ve seen it take the form of get-well soon cards and hospital flowers, and I see it taking the eyes of patients lying in beds, staring out of stainless windows to a world that’s moving without them.
And again I pity her.
But a part of me still wonders why she came to me. Why she trusts me. Why I still think she’s hiding something.
Night Glider looks down at me and shakes her head.
I continue walking, focusing on my breathing as my body moves automatically.
Every now and then I spare a glance down at the grove below, searching the dark spots and shadows for any sign of movement.
I picture the filly alone and shivering, her tears almost freezing solid as her breathing grows labored. She screams, but nothing comes out. She looks up to the sky, praying for an angel to come and give her grace. But nothing comes and she is alone.
I flinch and shake off the mental image. There’s still time. There has to be, because the alternative is something that I can not accept.
“Hey, Red?”
“Hm?” I blink to find Night Glider in front of me, waving a hoof in front of my face.
She smiles as I return to reality. “Thought I lost you for a second,” she jokes. “What happened?”
“I’m just worried,” I answer, tugging at my hat again. I suppose her habits are rubbing off on me now. “I was hoping somepony would have found her by now, but we haven’t seen any flares…”
Night Glider’s gaze hardens. “Hey, don’t talk like that, Red. We’re going to find her, and we’re going to bring her back home.” She takes my hoof and squeezes it with a nod. “I promise you. We’re going to do this.”
I squeeze her hoof back and smile. “You’re right. We will. Come on, let’s keep going.”
We part, and continue pushing forwards. The wind whips against my mane and the cold air bites at my nose and ears, but I fight it off.
My actions become nothing more than placing one hoof in front of the other, a movement so automatic that I become a machine. My eyes, well attuned to the landscape, continue the search alongside the woodline, looking for any slight thing out of place.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but I finally break myself from my autonomy with a deep breath. I close my eyes and take a second to just listen. I hear the flapping of Night Glider’s wings, and the faint whispering of the wind as it passes me by.
Something is out there.
I squeeze my eyes shut harder and try to focus. Standing still, I hear the distant cry of some avian creature, floating above the steady drum of the wind. But beneath it lies another voice. “Night Glider,” I call, opening my eyes. “Do you hear that?”
She listens, and her eyes go wide. “I do!”
We turn our lights down the slope, scanning the treeline. “Wishing Well!” I call out. “Wishing Well! Can you hear me!”
There is silence.
But there is something there. I know it.
“I’m going down,” I decide, reaching into my bags.
“Are you sure, Red?” asks Night Glider. “It’s kind of steep.”
“I’m certain,” I reply, pulling out a length of rope. I tie it around my barrel, then toss the other end up to Night Glider. “Here, hold it tight.”
She nods in understanding and I start my descent, holding my flashlight in my teeth and using both hooves to grip the rope.
I drop down slowly, moving step by step and ears straining to hear that voice against the wind. I slip more times than I notice, but Night Glider is able to keep me from falling the rest of the way. “Wishing Well!” she shouts again. “Wishing Well!”
“Here!”
The voice is small, and I almost thought I imagined it. My ears twitch and my eyes scan the nearby outcrop, trying to source it.
“P-please! Over here!”
I turn my head to the right and I see her. A tiny pink form, curled into a ball in front of a few larger rocks.
I continue my descent at a faster pace, and it’s not long before I reach it. The poor filly is covered in snow and shivering, eyes squeezed shut and frozen tears on her cheek.
“Oh, you poor thing,” I mutter before glancing up at Night Glider. “Use your flare!”
She nods and ignites one from her bag, dropping it into the snow. The flameless red smoke soon starts flowing into the air, but I pay it no mind.
Because now I have a job to do.
“Where does it hurt?” I ask, searching her body for visible injuries. There’s no blood except for a few scrapes and cuts, probably from sharp branches or rocks.
“M-my leg,” she whimpers. “I-I fell off the p-path. I’m so c-cold…”
Night Glider lands besides me. “Is she good, Red?”
“Her leg doesn’t look broken,” I mutter. “She might have just twisted her ankle. No signs of frostbite yet.” I open my bag and pull out a blanket, wrapping her up tightly. She clings to me, trembling and shaking violently.
My mind shifts into work mode, and my hooves move automatically. I give her a thermos of warm water and help her put on a coat that Gloriosa had given me. I hug her tightly, lending her whatever body heat I can muster.
At some point Night Glider joins in, and the two of us press our bodies against her. Her shivering begins to die down and she mutters exhausted apologies.
It isn’t long before the other volunteers arrive on the ridge. A team of police officers and paramedics take her and set her on a stretcher, with a pegasi rescue team helping to lift her back onto the path.
When I blink again I’m back up there, and the filly’s parents are holding my hoof and thanking me. Their voices land like snowflakes against my skin.
I answer with some words that I instantly forget, and they are soon ushered away with the filly for the medical building back at base camp.
It is only when Night Glider speaks that my mind returns to me.
“Hey, Red?” She tilts her head and smiles. I notice that she isn’t shivering anymore. “You did good.”
“Thank you,” I answer, brushing snow off of my jacket. “But don’t count yourself out. I couldn’t have done that without you.”
Night Glider waves a hoof dismissively. “I’m sure you could have,” she replies. “After all I just… kinda stood there while you did all the work.”
I glance up at the sky, where the last of the flare reaches upwards to the heavens before the wind whisks it away.
“Should we head back to camp now?” asks Night Glider.
I give her a wry smile. “How about we keep going up? It’s only a few more minutes.”
She looks uncertain for a second but shrugs. “If you say so, Red.”
“I do,” I say with a wink. “And trust me, I think you’ll like this.”
V: Peak
I crest the hill first, with a smile as wide as the valley below me. The sight is most welcoming for my tired, sore eyes, and embraces me in a warm hug. I sigh, watching as my breath appears briefly before me. “We’re here.”
Night Glider lands next to me and I can feel her weariness. She slowly looks up, and I watch with pride as her eyes grow wide. “Woah,” she mutters. “This is…”
“Beautiful?” I offer with a laugh. “It is. It most definitely is.”
The ground falls away into a series of mountains and valleys below. The army of trees dot the entire field, sprawling and reaching up for a sky that they may never touch. The pure and blissful white is everywhere, making the entire world radiate with something unique and wonderful.
Far below we can see the camp, the buildings' tiny squares in the distance, with chimneys coughing up pillars of smoke into the air. Even farther below that we can make out the lights of Ponyville, glittering and shining like grounded stars in the night.
High above us is the evening sky itself. The clouds are spread and broken, leaving tiny holes in them for us to see the stars. They twinkle and laugh, hiding shyly behind the clouds and occasionally showing themselves to the world.
The wind greets us with a whisper, playing with our manes and kissing our ears. Snow falls from the sky as if a frozen angel was crying. It feels warm up here, even if my body is freezing.
“Dang, Red… You really weren’t kidding.” Night Glider blinks a few times in disbelief. “This place is… it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before.”
I laugh, trotting over to a fallen log and brushing the snow off so I can sit. I pull out my bottle of cocoa, sighing in content as I feel its warmth. “My father first brought me up here when I was six years old,” I say. “And I’ll never forget the first time I saw this place. It spoke to me, Night Glider. In a way that nothing else in Equestria really can. When he passed years ago, this became one of my fondest memories.”
Night Glider sits next to me, nodding. “I’ve always seen Hearth’s Warming as nothing more than bright lights and ugly sweaters. I never really thought of it as a mountain forest,” she says. “But… I dunno, I think you’ve convinced me otherwise.”
I sip at my coca and nod. “I’m glad I have. My father told me something on a trip. He pointed to the sunset and said that sometimes, things looked red and happy. But if a pony were to take a closer look, they might find that inside, those very same things are blue and sad.” I pause to regard Night Glider carefully. “Would I be… correct in saying that’s you?”
Night Glider glances at me and takes a deep breath. “Hey, Red? I need to tell you something.”
I raise an eyebrow and wait for her to continue.
“Remember when I told you about my asthma? Well, I hated having it. It made me feel so alone, and I somehow got it into my head that if I could just prove myself to be a decent flyer… then maybe I’d fit in somehow. Maybe I’d… I don’t know, have a friend or something. So when I was in my teens, I went to a race in Ponyville. Signed myself up and thought that I’d be the best.”
She gets a faraway look in her eyes as she stares out over the valley.
“It was stupid. I was stupid. My body just couldn’t take it. I pushed myself to the max and… I paid the price. Had one of the worst asthma attacks I think I ever had and just fell out of the sky.”
Something about her tale seems familiar, but I don’t dare interrupt.
“I don’t remember much from the fall,” she whispers. “I just remember not being able to breathe. And clawing at the ground, because I thought I was being buried alive. But then my vision started to clear and I saw someone standing over me.” A smile tugs at her lips as she looks up at me. “I thought it was an angel.”
“But it was a pony?” I guess.
She nods. “Yeah, but you couldn’t have convinced me otherwise. She held my hoof and talked to me, and her voice was soothing and rich… it calmed me down and I stopped fighting. Someone got me an inhaler and my parents grounded me for a month, then I got whisked back home. But I never forgot her.”
I freeze, something clicking in my mind. I regard her carefully, and she chuckles softly. “That pony was me, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” Night Glider says. “I found out years later.”
I lean back in shock, the memory coming back clearly. “I… Wow. I do remember. I was just starting out in school when I saw it happen. I was the closest pony and knew I had to help…” I turn to face her fully. “Is that why you sought me out? After all this time?”
“Yeah,” Night Glider answers, rubbing her foreleg sheepishly. “You know that I lost so much time in Our Town. But when I got my mark back… it was liberating, but it was just a reminder that I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. So I thought… I thought you could help me find myself, in a way.”
I’m quiet for a few more seconds. “But why didn’t you tell me?”
“Honestly? I was scared you didn’t remember me, or that you couldn’t help me.” Night Glider sighs, tilting her head up to the sky. “But seeing you in action today, and now seeing this view… I feel something, Red. I think… I think I found that part of myself I was looking for.”
A smile fills my face. “I’m glad to hear that,” I reply. “But honestly. I’m not an angel. Just a pony trying to do her job.”
Night Glider is quiet for a second as the wind whips through her mane. She turns to me and smiles, her eyes shining and kind. “Hey, Red?”
“Hm?”
“Can I hug you?”
I laugh. “Of course, Night Glider. C'mere.”
She drapes a wing over my side and we laugh, clinking our thermoses together and drinking.
We spend a while just sitting there, wrapped in one of the spare blankets and watching the snowfall around us.
I think of our journey and Wishing Well, and I think of Night Glider and all the things I’ve seen and done over the years. And I feel strangely warm inside.
“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Red,” Night Glider says.
“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Night Glider,” I answer.
I am not an angel. But tonight, I don’t have to be.
