All Roads Lead Home

Chapter Twelve:
Harmony

“To love… isn’t something weak folk do.”

I made sure to apologize for running away so many times before and after we left the Apple Station. Hoarfrost actually threatened to punch me if I kept doing it… so, naturally, I tested the limits on that. I’m still waiting for the punch. It was nice to let loose a little.

Anxiety hit me like an Emission, though; all its flashing colors filling my head. We had one more station before Friendship. Ah, shit! What am I going to say to my parents…? ‘Hi! Sorry, I was out getting milk from the surface.’?

A light smack hit the back of my head. “Wake up.”

Dusk was there grinning when I opened my eyes. The small trolley-turned-makeshift-caravan we joined in Apple Station had stopped at the gate of our next location.

Doemetheus Station, named after the famous novel, really did remind me of the lab Merry Sika described in her work. For the ones who don’t get that: it was a mess. They didn’t even have anyone at the customs office, and I really didn’t put it past them. Half the station was charred. Hoarfrost and I both looked at each other. I think a solid connection was made, because we practically stepped over each other's words.

“They need help.”

… We also both recoiled our heads a little.

“That was a little weird,” Dusk leaned in between us with a powerful shit-eating grin, possibly the greatest one in the whole system. “But yeah, I agree.”

Everydeer around was either helping reconstruct homes, cooking meals at the makeshift kitchen on the center track, or eating. Between the lines and the building materials was a singular deer giving orders— not screaming or demanding like one would think, but softly and excitedly explaining what needed to be done.

“Te!” The doe hollered.

I raised a brow, looked around then pointed to myself.

“Yeah,” She waved us over. “All of you!”

We didn’t even get fully over to her before she continued. “You tourists? Or are you useful?”

Sea Mist and I made the same twisted mask of confusion, emphasized with a small recoil. Hoarfrost scratched his chin floof in a vain attempt to hide his glances at Dusk for help. The bat just sighed– radiating unadulterated disappointment towards us— before turning and smiling, “How can we help?”

Her whole snout curved in a grin. “Perfect. You, hevoskyyhkynen, and the maissi can help with the homes. The boot-lickers will serve.” Quickly, she returned back to giving orders.

“Well that’s a litt—“ I put a hoof in Hoarfrost’s mouth before he could insult the doe.

While Dusk cheerfully guided Sea Mist over to the builders, I got the attention of the deer again with a poke on the shoulder. She turned and raised a brow. “Whatcha need?”

“Nothing, nothing… but you know you basically sent a filly to do hard labor, right?”

“Ohhh…” She gave a hearty chuckle. “Jealous that the girls get to play? Well unless you two are hiding some gift from the Zone of flight or levitation, I suggest you get to cooking. They’re gonna be hungry in an hour!”

“But he is a unicorn.”

“Huh?” She squinted at Hoarfrost. “I guess… he is! Well, it’s too late now. Those two are already over there. Your friend should get a haircut so I can see his damn horn next time!”

I grunted in agreement, taking Hoarfrost with me to the pop-up kitchen. I really wish she would've stopped laughing while we walked over, though. It probably would’ve prevented half of the stares we got.

The tent used for the area had seen much better days. I wouldn’t doubt if the same rats that chewed the holes throughout also pissed on it for good measure. But, despite all that, it held up well. Squeezing past the fawns at play and the adults making holly, we encountered who I could only assume was the head chef. They had one of those funny white hats; A tall one with side frills like you’d see on weathered postcards. The deer turned and smiled at us from behind one of the stoves… well, if you could call a hot plate a stove.

“Hallooo! More hooves from Bright Birch are always appreciated. Call me Wind River.”

“Wait,” I paused. “Isn’t… that’s a pony name.”

“Yeah?” The word left his lips so nonchalantly.

“But what about your langua—“

“Look, I can chat, but we got shit to do. So wash your hooves and decide who’s cooking and who’s taking tickets, okay?”

I nodded as he focused back on his pot. Wind River must not have seen the gesture, though, as he asked again, but with a little more bite in his voice, “Okay?”

“Okay.” Hoarfrost was already managing the front. The bastard had beaten me to the easier job, go figure.

Look, if you were expecting me to go in detail about what food was being made… well… I would’ve loved to know what it was, too. I just prepped for him. Carrots finely diced then passed, followed by measured corn, twigs (okay…), and a bucket of… holy shit, HOW much salt?!

Wind dumped every ingredient hoofed to him into the pot, and stirred. The mixture was dirty, like the rice my mom used to make. As appetizing as it looked, I’m not too keen on actual sticks in my food. On the thought of culture, though…

“Wind.”

“Yeah?” The buck cheerfully responded.

“You have a very pony name… sorry if I come off as a dick, but what’s your actual name?”

Wind sighed. I must have pushed a button. “I-I’m sorr–”

“Why? There’s nothing to be sorry about. You just asked a question,” He chuckled to try and lighten the tension. “We… don’t use traditional names. There’s just so few fluent speakers anymore. Sure, maybe there’s some mummo out there in the outer ring, but that’s unlikely. We just use what words we know, to try and keep that part of us alive. Also, all the merchants speak in Ponish, so there’s that too.”

Hoarfrost turned around with a brow raised. “What do you mean by that?”

“By what?”

“You acting like speaking Ponish is a bad thing.”

“That’s not what I said.” Wind River shook his head.

“Then what are you saying?”

“That it’s. The tongue that less than a fourth of the population of the old world spoke, but yet is now the language of business; of wealth. Even pony works from before the Beginning treated it so. Paska! It’s crazy reading those stories now. About the new technologies and racial science from the war…” The deer let out a little snort. “Is this the glory they talked about? Living in tunnels like rats? Building our homes from the corpses of cultures they destroyed? Stalliongrad was our home, too.”

A silence settled in. I only noticed then that other chefs had been listening the whole time. They were glaring at Hoarfrost. He was the simulacrum for all their anger, a position earned by his own words alone. It wasn’t ‘til the soft humming of a song from the builders outside floated in did Hoarfrost decide to break the silence.

“I understand your pain. In fact, I can help because—“

“You’re Old Guard? That's what you were gonna say, right? Don’t worry; Unlike your friend here, you smell of ivory and romanticism.”

Hoarfrost was left agape. There’s no recovery when you’re read like an open book…

“That’s sweet, coming from a chef.” The chairpone snickered.

…but I guess that only applies to me.

Wind gave a little chuckle with his grin. “You’d be surprised what you can tell about a person by how they cook. You, for example, wanna be in charge.”

“You got me there, but how else do you expect me to change the world?”

“‘Change’, huh?” he spat.

“Yeah,” Hoarfrost tightened his brow. “And I already succeeded. I just need to end this stupid fucking war, then I fix the Old Guard completely.”

“Well, what stopped you from doing that before?”

“I-it’s not– well it’s…” Hoarfrost trailed off into thought. “Complicated.”

“Now that’s a crock of bullshit.” The chief elbowed me, inviting me to join him in laughter. I decided to abstain.

“So… hahaha,” Wind River whipped tears from his eyes before continuing. “Uncomplicate it for a bulletless buck like me, will ya?”

Hoarfrost’s face quickly contorted from objection into defeat. He held in a deep breath and just stared down at his hooves, studying the cracks in the floor that ran along them. The whisker valley guidelines made sure he wouldn’t step out of place. He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, shifting into the little fissures.

“There’s nothing complicated about it. I just…” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Those… those were words I didn’t ever expect.

“That’s okay,” Wind grinned. “No fawn knows everything. It’s the willingness to learn that defines who we are.”

“Finally, an ideal we can share.” Hoarfrost returned the smile with his own.

It’s the willingness to learn that defines who we are…

I couldn’t get those words out of my head. Had I been reading Hoarfrost wrong? Did– Is he trying to improve? To learn? Have I been treating him like Blue? Spirits, I’m a monster, now that I think about it...

I guess my thoughts bled into my facial expressions, because Hoarfrost was softly looking at me.

“Serenity,” He treated his tone with such careful precision like that of a true stalker. “When your entire personality is a political stance, you don't have one. Last I checked, my loved ones are dating a flesh and blood pony, not a poster.”

“Yeah…” I let the word escape my lips.

“Well fuck me, never thought Ivory here would be the kind!” Wind River let out a heart chuckle.

“So,” The buck turned his gaze to me, verbally thinking with a low hum. “What are you? You’re not Old Guard and the gear steers you away from Independent, though I have been wrong before. You could be some rich bastard. Hmmmm… You jumped in without question to assist, but wore your sorrows like a mask. Fucking weird case you are. Paska! I’m stumped! Please, what’s your story?”

I couldn’t help but look away a little. “Nothing special. Same sad story just about everyone has down here.”

“Bullshit. You were raised by zebras.”

“I thought you said you were stumped?” I raised a brow.

“And I thought you said you were nothing special, but how many zebra-raised ponies do you know?”

I shook my head. “That doesn’t change anything.”

Wind River snickered, failing to prevent it from snowballing into a short but hearty laugh. He wiped the tears from the folds of his eyes as quickly as they came. “You know, my fawn says the same things all the time. And just like them, you’re afraid of you. So what if your truth doesn’t change anything; You are you. So what if you can’t help currently with who you are? Just as it takes skill to lift frames, it takes people to cook for those same tired souls. Ei kukaan ole seppä syntyessään. You have time… no need to rush anything.”

I couldn’t give a retort; there was nothing more to say. Just an awkward, unapologetic silence… which the sound of cheering and laughter chopped cleanly through. A group of fawns were pestering their exhausted parents, who were just trying to eat. Hell, they weren’t even trying to talk with one another.

“Poor bastards. They need a break.” I heard Wind snicker.

My body took a step towards them but I stopped myself. I could help distract their kids for a while but… no. What right do I have in doing that? I’m an outsider. A nobody looking to do what? Just–

“Go on,” Hoarfrost shook my shoulder. “It is your talent.”

“Talent?” The buck tilted his head.

Hoarfrost turned to him and smiled. “He’s a storyteller. It’s like his job to distract children and adults alike.”

It was… wasn’t it?

The chairpo– no, my friend’s words pushed me over the edge; to help alleviate some pain from the parents. They looked up at me as I explained what I was. A storyteller. Not a professional one, or even a great one, but a storyteller nevertheless. I mean, cutie marks aren’t given out based on how perfect you are at something; Just your natural connection to it.

Each fawn’s family sat them down as I pulled over cushions to sit on and to toss my gear onto. It was getting hot; could you really blame me? The fawns were just as interested in what the story would be as they were of the stripes on my body as I took off my jacket.

One of the fawns raised their hoof while others just whispered amongst each other.

I shook my head. “This isn’t class. You don’t have to raise your hoof.”

“Oh.” They gave a little squeak in embarrassment. “Umm… your back… does it hurt? From the scars?”

“Oh, those? They aren’t scars.” I looked back to my stripes and chuckled.

“But I thought only zebras had stripes?”

“Well, that’s not true. My family are zebras. Each…” Little images of Amani’s smile flashed in my head as I paused. “And every one.”

The fawns were confused, but who could blame them. The pause was weird, and the stranger in front of them wiping away a few tears was probably weirder.

I took a breath before continuing. “Do you all like stories? Hahaha… everyone likes stories; what’s the point in asking? The better question is: who wants to hear a story?”

I was right about everyone liking stories. Hell, the fawns literally screamed and raised their hooves, begging for tale. But what should it be? An Inhabitant of the Valley? No, I don’t think they’d get it. That’s too ingrained in my culture. What about Singing Rhapsod— no, no. That’s way too dark for kids! Hmmm… light and simple… light and… huh.

“Let me tell you about the first nurakhu.”

The fawns all stared at me, wide-eyed. Most cultures in the metro tunnels knew what a nurakhu was– even the Old Guard– but few knew what it meant… besides the zebras, of course. They were an enigma for cultures focused on more … individualistic goals.

“Well, long before the bombs, and even the creation of the nation of Equestria… while the mountains were young, there were the tribes of Farasi. Just after the nomadic age, a few of the tribes tried to unite all communities, but not under friendship and good will; Instead, through conquest. A tearful tide that washed over the land. They tore families apart, killing off anyzebra who tried to resist, infecting the very land upon which they settled. Everything was sick, and the free tribes could just feel it. One of the tribes, Solaris, the zebras of the valley, tried to stand against them like many before. And like the ones before, they were broken and eradicated. But from the charred battlefield rose one zebra, and like a wraith, they came back. They claimed they saw something. A land with no sky, no light. A void which a being walked out of and extended a hoof to them. They took it and next they knew, they woke up. From the fallen, they grabbed their sister’s armor and their brother’s spear. They painted themselves in the image of what they could only believe was a spirit, with what could be found. Green markings around the body, covering their stripes, and a mask they carved to hide their face. This masked hero roamed Farasi, protecting those who could not protect themselves, giving the tribes the help to not only fight, but to live. From an extra farmhoof, to a shaman, or a warrior; They did what was needed of them. But not everyzebra loved them. Those uniters would prefer that they see them fail. Fall; Die trying. To have the ultimate example to others of what lies ahead for the path of a hero.”

At that point, most of the adults around were leaning in to listen. I looked over to the kitchen and, hell… even Wind River was enwrapped, jaw agape, while Hoarfrost smiled. The sight brought a smile to my lips too.

“Well,” I paused to mold a bit more into character. “Soon the zebra was beginning to be called ‘nurakhu’: teacher, friend, warden. Everywhere they went, a little bit more of the revenge that fueled them was sapped away. They learned to stop fighting for themselves, and instead, for the breath of others. Everyzebra that met the nurakhu. They became family. That wandering soul even found love; Someone to forever be tied to, for as long as the stripes on their stayed. But, like I said before, others wanted to see them fall. Spies ratted the nurakhu out, and once again the drums of war marched right up to their new family. Ndizi, the leader of the conquerors, came personally to present the ‘hero’ with a choice. He gazed down at the village with his battalions in hoof, snarling as he shouted, ‘You know why we’re here. So I’ll give you a choice! The village or you. Make your choice, and see how a hero is rewarded!’ ”

The fawns jumped a little as I drew out those last few words for as much emotion as they would give me. Only after a showman’s pause— to tastefully build tension of course— did I continue.

“The nurakhu turned to their new family. Each one held the universe in their eyes. Stardust and photons dancing across a dark, wide sea. They sighed, and hugged the ones closest to them. One. Last. Time,” I paused again, but not to add tension. Not this time. It was instead to look at Hoarfrost. He was trapped in a frightened wonder, not as the bureaucrat that started this journey, but instead as a tired colt with dirty hooves from thankless work. That’s what I wanted. The story was for them, more than any of the fawns here. “They marched out to face Ndizi, alone with their spear in hoof. No one could see it, but under the nurakhu’s mask a grin grew with each step. They stopped meters away from Ndizi looking into the eyes of the zebra who burned their village to the ground. But what would’ve been rage before was replaced with determination. What happened to their old family wouldn’t happen again even if the price is high.

‘So, you actually came,’ Ndizi walked right up to them and smacked them to the ground. Pinning them down with his body weight. The nurakhu’s spine crawled as the zebra got close to their ear. ‘Stay down or everyone dies.’

It wasn’t a hard choice. They took every punch and kick until Ndizi finally stepped back exhausted. A voice screamed out as tiny hooves ran towards the nurakhu. No one stopped the filly instead watching with bated breath as he ran into the hero, crying into their fur while trying to squeeze them into a hug. The filly was repeating: get up.

Ndizi laughed, his face contorting into a wickedly thin grin and kicked over the nurakhu spear, ‘The little ones wants you to get up, then get up!’

Bullies like Ndizi want to milk everyone for every drop of power. That's why he wanted them to get up; So he could show what he’d do to others like them. What they’d do to heroes… but you see, the nurakhu didn’t fear death. They had faced the Collector before. No, they feared the pain of losing the ones they found. And… that’s all a hero is… someone who’s brave for the ones they love, without anything in return.

The nurakhu pushed the filly back as he balanced himself up onto his spear. Their mask was now bloody but still on. The sight made Ndizi sick. He couldn’t understand how they wouldn’t show who they really are.

‘Take off the mask, coward!’ He screamed until his throat hurt.

The nurakhu retorted simply, ‘I wear no mask.’

Ndizi tightened his brow, unsheathing his blade and charged. The nurakhu mirrored his actions meeting him half way there. One clean pair of cuts ended the conflict, as both of them slid to a stop past each other. Ndizi, the conqueror, fell to his knees, and collapsed into the mud. Only shortly after, when the nurakhu made sure every zebra had seen what happened, they walked away… straight through the army the conqueror had brought. No one stopped them, partly because they didn’t know if they could, but also because they didn’t have a reason to anymore. Their reason was covered in mud.

Before the nurakhu disappeared into the plains, they looked back and smiled, ‘I don’t know what you’re waiting for. He’s gone. It’s over. Now do better than him.’

And those were the last words that anyone heard from them. Many believe they went off and freed the rest of the nation, but the only one who knows that for sure… is the first nurakhu.”

From the fawns to the adults, everyone was biting their tongues as if breaking the silence would make them forget everything they just heard. It was off-putting… until one of the adults started clapping. That one turned into five, then eventually, every listener joined in the act. The wave of sound made my chest flutter.

“Hey,” Hoarfrost tapped me on the shoulder. “The chief said we could take a break after that performance. Cook something a little less… salty. Want to join me?”

I stole what little of a look I could from the fawns. They were playing pretend. Re-enacting the story again so they could be little heroes. The smile it gave me was a weak one, but it was joy nonetheless.

I followed Hoarfrost to a quieter section in the place. He slid a single plate off his back onto the table, and it wasn’t what I expected. Baha… baha, in a place like this? At Friendship station, they cost— well I don’t remember exactly, but they did cost a lot. Yet here one was, each leaf splayed out; rays of soft, tender heart’s sun. I slid one of the forks off the plate and played around with its weight in my hooves…

I hadn’t had one of these since I was a kid. Don’t think it was because I was hardcore or anything; My family just didn’t really have the money to pay for it once the war started ramping up.

“You can eat it. You don’t need to psychoanalyze a flower, Serenity.” Hoarfrost giggled, picking up the other fork with his magic.

“Sorry, just… how? Aren’t these expensive?”

He sighed. “Always you with the prices. Wind River had one from another traveler that didn’t want it. Can’t you just accept a good thing?”

“Being skeptical keeps me alive.”

“Yeah, but being a hardass is also detrimental to your mental health.”

“Dude…”

“Am I wrong?”

I pressed my lips into a thin line and whispered. “Fuck you.”

I grabbed a piece of the leaf and a bit. It was cooked perfectly! Gentle, Pleasantly Aromatic, That slight bitter taste mixed with banana. And you know what makes it even better? Its texture is fish! Fish! It’s funny, really.

“Another smile?! Give too many of those and the others might think you’re actually happy.” Hoarfrost snickered.

“I—“ The shitty joke made my stomach erupt with laughter. I wish I could’ve taken a picture of him. Of his warmth in that smile. The softness… I was wrong before in only thinking of him as a bureaucrat. Only when that thought came did his mask come back on as he twisted his face back into one of control. Hoarfrost cleared his throat and looked me dead in the eyes.

“Speaking of… changing what others think…” He sighed giving up on constructing his middle manager type question. “Why did you change the tale?”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?” I rolled my eyes and took another bite of baha.

“Serenity. I just want to know why you looked at me before you changed it.”

I shook my head. “Folks like you focus too much on the content of stories instead of the context: the ideas and emotions left behind.”

“Oh my Celestia,” Hoarfrost facehoofed and keep his anger to a shouted whisper. “That’s not what I’m referring to. The first nurakhu abandoned that tribe. It burned; the conquerors only fell because zebras rose against them, and that’s why no one knows who that nurakhu was! It’s a cautionary tale!”

“I know. I know. But that’s not why I changed it. I—“

“So why then?” He jumped into my sentence.

I swear if he anxiously cuts me off again then he can walk to Friendship on his own!

I let out a little puff. “I was about to explain. You cool with that? Oh, good. You're nodding. Thank you. Look… I just believed they deserved a different presentation of the message. The story of the first nurakhu focuses so heavily on what not to do, that it fails to help us learn what we could do. It doesn’t help us learn to think. T-that’s pretty much what I’m saying.”

“Huh,” He softened his expression. “I can get behind that. Life truly is just about cherishing these little specks of time with others. Why spend it hating?”

“Listen, I just tell stories. I’m not a philosopher or—“

“No!” I was okay with him cutting me off this time. Well, at least subconsciously. “Stories teach us things. I mean come on, do you remember how many books were in my little hideout back at Sunlight? They teach us lessons about how to live… and forgive.”

Hoarfrost hid his eyes from me and let out a long sigh. “I didn’t want this, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Serenity… I- I was scared. I just stood there and watched you. How could I have let that happen? I can’t even comprehend how that changed you, and I’m sorry.”

He took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m not asking you to forgive me. I just want you to understand before something else separates us.”

Something in me refused to believe him. Eight years. Eight brutal years since it happened, and he never spoke to me. I doubt he remembered I existed. That I was real, and not an event he imagined. That— wait. One has to tell the body to wait. I can’t prove what he felt in those years, but I can tell how he felt when he thought I died. He went out of his way to fold for me. There has to be something more there. Hoarfrost is messed up, sure, but I don’t believe he’s a monster.

“I forgive you,” It was like I casted a spell on him. Hoarfrost couldn’t stop trembling. “You heard me, right? I forgive you.”

“B-but just like—“

“Look,” I cut him off before he could even attempt to bring some self hatred into being. “We both fucked up. I almost guarantee I hurt others more than you think you hurt me— and don’t try to say that you sparked all that, or I’ll punch you in those perfect teeth of yours. Just forgive yourself, okay? Then we can move on.”

He didn’t try to retort, even though his eyes gave away that he wanted to. Instead he lifted off the weight on his shoulders and took a bite of the baha. Just sitting there chewing his food like a scolded colt or at least that's what I thought he looked like. The small smile said otherwise.

“Thank you.” Hoarfrost whispered, but I don’t think he thought I heard it.

“You know, in another life, I would’ve loved to live in a place just like this and tell stories to others. Watch them laugh and come together in harmony,” I giggled a little. “But that’s another life.”

“Maybe,” He looked me in the eyes once again. There was a quality in them that wasn’t there before. Passion? Determination? Words fail to express the vivid glint of life in his pupils. “But you will have something to tell.”

“What do you mean?”

“Listen, all this? The adventures of two old friends: the politician and the wanderer. It’s either a bad joke or one of those generic pulp fiction novels stalkers keep finding. Either where it’s gonna be one hell of a story.”

“You think so?”

“With the crew of misfits you’re collecting?” Hoarfrost gestured over to the construction sites. Dusk was helping guide beams up to higher levels while Sea Mist was intensely focusing on not dropping that same thing. “Yeah. One hell of a story.”

“You guys enjoying it?” Wind River trotted up to the table.

We both nodded.

“Good,” He placed a paper wrapped item onto the table. Based on the shape, it was probably a book. He slid it in front of me. “This is for you by the way.”

I raised a brow. “Another gift? Don’t you think the baha was more than enough. Hell, you didn’t even need to do that.”

He shook his head. “It’s not from me. One of the folks wanted to repay you for the story.”

“Are they still around?”

“No. They gave it to me before heading back to work.”

“Shame,” I slid the gift into my saddlebags and grinned. “You’ll have to thank them for me.”

Wind nodded as he walked back to the kitchen.

Together me and Hoarfrost exchanged a look, before eating the rest of baha and watching the builders work.