Dark, gluttonous clouds shrouded the little frosty village of Vale’s Wreath, a smeared gradient of wisps trailing from the edges of the bleak bellies that opened into a lighter gray sky. Little worn cottages were cradled in the snow, which was tinged with mysterious soot. Each cottage glimmered a faint, hollow orange-pink. There were the same set of stringed bulbs adorning the brown spaces above every rotting green door. The light scarcely penetrated what seemed to be faint smoke that hung thickly in the air; an ironic thing, since each member of the village had hung the lights in a small display of hope, which shone just enough to get them through each day, but the weight of the world persisted to overshadow.
A little silver filly with a messy, twirly purple-and-pink mane was gazing out a foggy window encrusted with pieces of pure snow. Her expression, despite the mood of everything, maintained an unaware and peaceful curiosity; it was simply a child watching her world. Her bright watermelon-colored eyes flitted to each detail of the scene outside, her chin rested on the inner sill with each hoof on the ends, as she knelt comfortably. She hauled herself upwards slightly as she caught sight of the beginnings of precipitation. From the clouds slowly fell eerily shimmering black stars of sorts, similar to snow.
Behind the filly, a paler pony with vivid indigo hair that brightened into violet at the ends, tightened into a shaggy pigtail, watched more reservedly, her eyes sagging and her muzzle frowning in kind. The once brilliant, penetrating blue of her irises were dull and apprehensive.
“Am I really gonna have to go to Laborsheathe in this weather again?”
Her murmur betrayed a stressed weariness as opposed to mere complaint. Complicated, and often physical tasks were done outside, as there were no facilities in the region nearby Vale’s Wreath that weren’t gaping with holes.
“Lookit’, Rats,” said the filly without turning her head, “the clouds are sprinkling again. Are they releasing the stars from the sky?”
Before answering, the pony had to mentally forgive the nickname ‘Rats’. It was a relatively recent term of affection her sister had given, and it was true that she hated her real name, but being associated with grimy rodents wasn’t much better. She came closer to her sister’s side and replied,
“I think it’s some kinda snow…” she peered closer, and shuddered as she noticed a small purple-green glint in each one. “I think the King did something.”
“The King?” replied the filly, now craning her neck to meet Rats’ eyes with her big green ones. There was no admiration in the squeak of her voice, as she’d gained from mutters among village-members the knowledge that he made everyone unhappy and did some bad things. Rats tousled her sister’s already wild hair and gave a shrug, though her brows persisted to furrow in concern.
“Well… If there’s something going on, he’s affecting everybody,” Rats continued, “No fair taking out his anger on us, if that’s what’s happening. Bunch of us ‘gotta soldier through already, without this weird magic stuff happening.”
She paused, then met her sister’s look more sincerely.
“On the subject…” she sighed, with a slight crook to her lips in a small smirk to brave it, “I have to go.”
“But Rats…” the filly, in a quiet breath, spoke with an almost frustrated moan, but fell short to quick unemotive acceptance. “Okay.”
“I don’t like to leave you on your own,” Rats promised hushedly, and emphasized, “you know I don’t.”
“I know,” her sister grumbled sadly in agreement. Rats drew her into a rough but tight hug, closing her eyes briefly. “You’re strong, little Belles.”
The filly half-whimpered a “see you” as her big sister shut the door with a wave.
Ever since Rats could remember, it was the command of the King to assist in putting together weapons, armor, and drilling into the earth to find precious minerals. The minerals would be traded in for food, due to the barrenness of the place they lived. Still, Vale’s Wreath and its surrounding areas of what could barely be called a “city” was only a small portion of their Kingdom, Sombresidian.
While Rats heaved heavy shapes of metal into a cart to be delivered to a smith, she was careful not to wipe the sweat from her brow. She and Belles had to wear little cloths over their foreheads to hide their horns. Unicorns were considered blasphemous, and if found were meant to have their horns removed. Only the King could possess such a royal mark. Luckily, Rats and her little sister resided in such a stranded village it wasn’t too hard to keep undercover, but they had to make sure to wear the coverings at all times.
A dull orange mare beside Rats was sighing every now and again and glancing up at the sky to make a grimace in-between their hauling of metal into each crate. She would shake her yellow-and-white mane out often to remove the purple-studded onyx snow. Eventually the pony said, “Hey, what do you think is going to happen next?”
“What?” murmured Rats, and then added, “who are you?”
“Molten Smeltsap,” replied the pony, “Whateveritz-to-you. Whadd’ya think then?”
“I-I’m sorry, I’m not sure I… what are you…” stammered Rats, her voice stretching when she lifted a load of scrap.
“The cosmic flakes!” Molten pressed, eyes widening, “I guess you don’t know what they are. Well, you’re a younger one. These have come before, followed by disasters. Ponies think it’s the effects of the King’s shadow. It’s called the ‘Umbrum’. It comes and it passes, every now and then. Probably travels the whole Kingdom…” her voice dipped in dismay.
Now that she thought about it, Rats did remember hearing things like this from her mom when she was much smaller.
“What’ll we do then,” Rats muttered more to herself as she took another shipment into a cart. Life wouldn’t be able to go on as normal - if it could be called that - if anything got worse.
“Dunno,” responded Molten, then said, “Hey, if all goes wrong, we should stick together. You got my name outta me - what’s yours?”
Alarm raised the hairs on the back of Rats’ neck. She’d dropped her real name a long time ago, and had gone by other forms of it since, and the most recent was the one that stuck at the moment, despite its filthy insinuation. It was an odd duality, having reservations against it, but even voluntarily going by it in her own head. She may as well take the dive.
“I-I’m…” she hesitated. Maybe she could combine some nicknames and make herself sound more presentable so she wouldn’t put the mare off. “I’m Rari-Rats…”
Molten Smeltsap widened her violet-red eyes a bit, then laughed amiably. “What a charming thing to be called,” she grinned, “pleasure!”
“Likewise,” Rats said awkwardly. Despite not being used to exchanges, especially ones such as these, she liked the idea of having someone to look out for her and Belles, and appreciated the thought of having an ally. Maybe Molten could act as some kinda aunt-figure to Belles…
Suddenly a few shouts and murmurs of surprise shook Rats out of her thoughts. A gleam of bright green light had shimmered somewhere in the distance. Molten gave Rats a knowing look and said,
“I bet you that’s a taste of what’s next.”
Somehow Rats had a different feeling that she couldn’t shake. In a few minutes however the surprise had died down for everypony else and the few laborers at work with the metals had returned to business and let the subject of the odd incident fade. Rats couldn’t keep her heart from pulsing. She couldn’t explain it, but there was something familiar in that green light.
In a few more moments the call was given and the laborers were let off work. It had been a full day by now. Keeping the corner of her eye set in the direction of the incident, Rats quickly received and promptly stuck in her pouch around her waist the minerals that she would trade in for dinner back in Vale’s Wreath. She headed there straightaway. As she got closer, her heart dropped. A hidden theory in the back of her mind had been confirmed. The source of the green light had come from her village.
Picking up the pace, Rats made her way across the checkered snow and reached the entrance to Vale’s Wreath, where she could already see the commotion in the village square. There were five of the members of the village - which meant about more than half of the population present to the scene - crowded around a foal and a filly: a mean looking little guy, and Belles.
Her sister. Out in public. Without her horn covered.
“Sweetie Belle!” Rats shouted in distress and fury, rushing to the side of the shaken-up little filly, “what have you done!”
“I-I… it’s not… my fault, he-”
“Quiet, you!” shouted a village member, her eyes huge.
“What a treacherous thing! Oh, the King will not be pleased, not pleased, not pleased…” repeated another, rocking back and forth in fear.
“You shouldn’t be here,” said the little foal bully, “I’ll make sure you pay for cursing us like this!”
To Rats’ horror, he leapt at Belles, aimed for her horn, while the other village members moved in with a mixture of reluctance and resolve. Rats burst into the fray when a huge explosion of green light sent everypony flying in all directions. Rats went head-first into the cobblestone entrance gate.
Black fuzz sparkled in every corner of Rats’ vision when she came to. She must not have taken too long to awaken, because everypony else was still unconscious. With her impaired vision her gaze darted in panic in every direction to find Belles. Her little sister’s blurry form came into view and Rats darted over without hesitation.
“We have to go,” she breathed, hauling her sister who was barely conscious onto her back before she took off without a second thought.
Author's Note
Is anybody on this site anymore?
Oh well. I wrote something. :)
(Please refrain from criticism on this piece, as I have not been able to write in a while due to over-critique by Gordon Ramsay writing teachers without the actual professional skill to give comments to the extent they did :') this is just a passion chapter I want to put out for people to enjoy.)
