Author's Note
Snowpity - The organ governing magic within a pony's body. Some say it is the seat of the soul.
Second Person POV
You are Starlight Glimmer, investigating reports of a banshee sighting in northern Equestria. The village is eerily similar to the one you once founded in your darker days. The ponies aren't cursed to suppress their talents, but they are living with a certain wariness and resignation you recognize. You make your way to the village miller, the closest thing they have to central government. Stone Ground is a solid, stoic mare with the light slate gray coat you often see in rock farmer families. You smile politely as you see her watching over a teen filly trot in the mill's harness.
"Stone Ground, I presume? I am Starlight Glimmer, here on behalf of the Crystal Castle."
She shakes your proffered hoof, then turns towards the teen.
"You're free to go once you finish this bag of wheat."
Stone ignores the relieved expression on the filly's face and leads you to her modest house. You glance over your shoulder at the mill.
"Punishment detail?"
Stone grunts in confirmation.
"Troublemakers ought to do something constructive if they have the energy to make mischief. But that's not why I sent for you."
The floor is polished pine, the walls mortared rough-hewn stone. Stone fills two mugs from a cask and hands one to you. You sniff it and recognize the scent of watered-down wine.
"You said it was a banshee? When did you first notice him appearing?"
She sighs and sits heavily on the table bench.
"About three or four months back, Under Presser found the grapes the northern edge of her vineyard had withered to raisins. A few weeks later, the mushroom farmers said they heard male keening at night. We sent out search parties, but we couldn't find anything."
You frown and sip your drink.
"Did he have any other effects on crops or ponies?"
Stone shrugs.
"Rot in the grain silo, foals having nightmares, a rockslide falling on the blessedly empty road, things like that. If we get any more crop damage, I am worried we won't last the winter."
That doesn't sound right.
"And has there been any sick ponies in the village?"
Stone shakes her head.
"No, we're from a sturdy stock and we have a good, clean well."
You have a bad feeling.
"And has the banshee focused on a single home or family?"
The miller mare looks at you in confusion.
"No, he wails wherever, all around the village and in the wilderness."
You nod decisively.
"That's not a banshee. It's a wrathful ghost. Has a stallion died under suspicious circumstances recently? Or have you heard stories of such happening nearby?"
Stone Ground frowns and shakes her head.
"Not in the village, and I haven't heard tell of such. There are some ruins on the other side of the mountain, down by a river. Mayhap there's something to be found there."
You nod.
"I'll take a look. In the meantime, is there a place I can stay? I may be here for a week or so."
She jerks her head towards the wooden door opposite the entrance.
"Guest room's there, usually the passing merchant uses it."
You smile.
"Thanks, I appreciate it."
Stone waves a hoof dismissively.
"It's the least I can do for you."
You leave about half of your pack in the guest room and set off to hike around to other side of the mountain. The air is crisp and clear, traces of the chill of approaching autumn refreshing you on your hike. You had missed this, down in the lowlands of Ponyville. You take a break a few miles from the village. You are more out of shape than you would like to admit. At least you can see the river Stone was talking about. You look down the slope and see a muddy pool swirling slowly in the distance. The far edge is bounded by rough boulders, dirt still clinging to the stone. You teleport down to investigate. The boulders and pool are larger than you had thought, it does look like a few months blockage of the river had gathered in the wide pond. Amid the stones and debris of the rockslide are planks of weathered wood, faded fabric, and-
Bones.
You sift through the debris with your magic. The natural stone is easy enough to separate and toss aside. The ancient mattress is nearly petrified and crushed, but it's easy enough to tell that it was the final resting place of the dead pony. You pile the broken and scattered skeleton back on it. You turn and start excavating the rest of what must have been a mansion, going by the foundation. Shattered clay plates and bowls, flint and steel in a leather pouch, twine... and a silver ring with a crest featuring a scale weight a comb against a crown. You have no idea house that belongs to, but you have friends who would know. You slip it into your saddlebag and teleport to the miller's guest room.
Twilight frowns across the illusion transmission.
"It's not ringing any bells, so it's probably a minor house from the early years after unification. I'll have Moondancer check the Canterlot archives."
You smile.
"Thanks, I knew I could count on you."
She laughs.
"What are friends for, if not delegating research? But are you alright? You'll be staying in a village haunted by a wrathful ghost."
You roll your eyes.
"I'll be fine, I have plenty of salt to circle my bed and a pouch more to throw."
She nods solemnly.
"That should be plenty, assuming you don't eat it all over the course of the week."
You huff.
"Please, I only take a few grains every once in a while, it's not like I snort the stuff."
Twilight frowns slightly.
"You haven't tried snorting salt, right? That can really damage your nostrils, and-"
"I know, /Dad/. Now, are we going to talk about the responsible consumption of minerals, or are you going to actually help me research about this ghost?"
Twilight smirks.
"I already sent a letter to Moondancer, now there is nothing distracting me from nagging you about your salt abuse."
You groan and settle in for yet another lecture on the dangers of high sodium. Sometimes you wonder why you are friends with such an annoying mare. Though you admit, her concern for your wellbeing is... nice to know.
It turns out, the salt circle does nothing to keep out the plaintive wailing of the ghost. Something about it resonates with your snowpity in a way that makes it nearly impossible to sleep through. You say nearly, because when you finally get out of bed an hour before noon, Stone Ground shows no sign of a restless night. She sets out a plate of bread, fruit and cheese. You mumble your thanks and dig in. Stone lingers by the table.
"There's a pony that showed up this morning. Goes by Yearling, you know her?"
You blink.
"A. K. Yearling?"
The mare in question pokes her head through the doorway.
"The very same! Rainbow told me about what was going on, thought I'd come by to share my expertise."
You get up and shake her hoof.
"It certainly can't hurt. Starlight Glimmer, professional problem solver."
You lead the archeologist to the table and go over what you have found out while you eat breakfast. Yearling frowns.
"A wrathful ghost, huh? He'll be hard to deal with without knowing his history. A remote place like this, we might just have to circle the town in salt."
You nod solemnly. That would make it hard for the village to expand, but at least they would be safe. Twilight would never let you live it down once she saw the invoice. You sigh at the thought. Yearling knocks back a mug of watered wine.
"Alright, I'll need to see that ring and the mansion ruins."
You blip the ring from the guestroom dresser to the kitchen table. The gray-maned mare turns it over in her hoof.
"Pre-, no, just barely post-unification wedding band. The crest is from the minor noble house of Cloudtuft. If I recall correctly, they were the first to introduce cigars to the greater pegasus population. They even lived in a cloud home of smoke!"
You frown.
"That couldn't have been healthy."
Yearling chuckles and shakes her head.
"It really wasn't. Pegasus lungs are more sensitive to that sort of thing, not to mention the fertility issues. That's why the house died out in the next generation or two."
You blink.
"Wait, if it's a pegasus ring, then why was it in an earth pony house?"
The archeologist raises an eyebrow.
"I told you, the Cloudtufts dealt in tobacco. They had to have earth pony suppliers, maybe even married into the business."
You nod in understanding.
"That makes sense. I'll send that along, maybe the records at Canterlot will go into more detail."
You take a moment to write down the information and transmute it into dragonflame of Spike's coalpity's wavelength. That done, you teleport the two of you to the mansion ruins.
You've already seen what you can see of the ruins, so you mostly trail after A. K. Yearling. The mare steps carefully through the piles of broken stone and shattered wood. Her wingtips gently sift through the piles of things you made while cataloging the ruins. She looks over her shoulder at you.
"You said you didn't take anything other than the ring?"
You nod.
"That's right. And it doesn't look like anything is missing from yesterday."
Yearling curses under her breath and goes to sit beside the skeleton on the mattress. You hesitantly approach her.
"What is it?"
She shakes her head.
"A damn shame is what it is. Only one bed, some dishes, but no silverware, the remains of a long dinner table... anything of value and easy to carry is gone."
Yearling sighs.
"The stallion was abandoned on his sickbed, either by his wife or the servants that were supposed to nurse him back to health. All they left him was his wedding ring."
You look at the skeleton again, imagining how it would be to lay helpless as everypony you thought you could depend on walked out the door. The silence of being alone, almost a non-entity in your own home. Yeah, you'd turn into a wrathful ghost too.
That evening, Twilight opens the illusion transmission.
"Well, thanks to your expert information,"
Yearling nods solemnly. Your former teacher continues, "Moondancer was able to pinpoint exactly who it is that's haunting the mountain."
You lean forward in interest.
"Oh? That was quick."
Twilight half-smiles.
"That's why I had Moondancer on the job. His name was Palm Wrap, the son of a tobacco merchant. He married Tuft Luck of house Cloudtuft, which was something of a scandal back then. Not only was Tuft marrying below her station, but across tribal lines."
In a way, you are lucky there was a scandal, Palm might not have been recorded in history otherwise. Twilight continues, "Both of their families became rather wealthy once cigar smoking spread through pegasus culture, though there were rumors that Tuft was sleeping around on her negotiation trips. However, after twelve years of marriage, they had no foals, and Palm kept catching colds during the winter, taking longer to recover each year. Less than a week after he died, Tuft married the second son of a countess."
You frown.
"So what do we do now? Try to find a descendant of the Cloudtufts and let the ghost curse them so he can move on?"
Twilight shakes her head.
"Even if we could, that wouldn't be just, not after all this time. No, we'll just have to ring the village in salt. I'll let you start the preparations, Starlight."
You sketch a lazy salute.
"Understood. Thank you for feeding my habit."
The alicorn lets out a snort of laughter and ends the transmission. You turn to Yearling.
"If you don't have enough salt for your room, I already have a circle in mine."
The pegasus smiles sheepishly.
"I'll take you up on that."
As the sun slowly slipped past the horizon, A. K. Yearling sighs.
"I had hoped it was a banshee. They're supposed to be ethereally handsome, and they watch over noble or notable bloodlines. It would have definitely led to a dig, and I'd help somepony find their heritage."
You settle back on the bed and stare at the ceiling.
"Well, at least there was that ring."
The archeologist huffs, a bitter laugh that couldn't escape her throat.
"We can't bring that back. It belongs to Palm Wrap, if anything does."
You turn onto your side and look down at Yearling on her sleeping bag.
"You're taking this rather hard. Surely you've come across historical tragedies before?"
She closes her eyes.
"A few. But..."
She sighs.
"There was a time in my life, when I had just made it big, that I had a stallion in every city I toured for my book signings. Some knew they were flings going into it, others figured it out and came to terms with it or broke up with me."
You yawn, then verbally prod her.
"But..."
Yearling swallows.
"But one was completely devoted to me. Spent all day cleaning the house, embroidering, cooking elaborate meals, subtly hinting that he wanted to marry me as soon as possible. It was nice at first, but over time it became smothering, oppressive. And I couldn't protest a single thing because I was a sleazy mare seeing other guys behind his back."
You lay back as you see the similarities.
"What happened?"
The archeologist takes a shuddering breath.
"Nothing. I left that city for a long time. Years. Maybe a decade after I left, I check back on the place, and the house is boarded up. It's been another decade since then, and I still don't have the courage to find out how he's doing."
You vaguely wish you had done more than skim Cadence's emotional counseling field guide.
"That's rough."
Yearling snorts.
"It is. And I have nopony to blame but mys-"
She cuts off as a low moan echoes through the village, setting your snowpity thrumming. You grimace.
"It's going to be a long night."
The other mare grunts in acknowledgement. You lay there for hours, listening to the ghost of Palm Wrap explore the range between moaning and screeching, pleading and ranting with an incomprehensible accent. You hear some rustling. You turn to see Yearling stand up.
"If you're thirsty, I have a canteen in my saddlebag."
The pegasus mare shakes her head.
"I need to go get something."
You can tell she's lying, but you turn away and let her keep her dignity. You made sure you used the bathroom before going to bed for this very reason. Her hoofsteps fade as she leaves the room. And the front door opens with a creak.
Your eyes go wide and you get up and stare at the open doorway from the guestroom. You sigh in relief when you see that the ghost isn't there. Neither is Yearling. You glance around. The ring is gone from the dresser too.
"Palm Wrap! I'm back! I won't leave you again!"
You can't believe your ears. You rush to the window and stare at A. K. Yearling standing in the street, holding up the ring. Is she possessed by the ghost of Tuft Luck? You cast a quick diagnostic spell, which returns a negative. Her strategy seems to be working. The ghost has quieted down, approaching her slowly. Flowing bedsheets press against his body in a wind that only he can feel. Palm is a handsome stallion in death, only somewhat more gaunt than lithe. He murmurs something to Yearling, who nods. Palm leads her out of the village, in the direction you recognize as the path you took to go to the mansion. You could follow the pair, but... Yearling seems to have settled Palm down, and you don't want to spoil that. Or get cursed. That would suck big sweaty teats if you got cursed while Yearling had everything under control. So you stay up on the bed, hoping she makes it back safely.
By morning, she isn't back. You teleport to the ruins and find it much like you left it the day before. Until you get to the skeleton of Palm Wrap. Two tan pinion feathers lay across the ribcage. You widen the search but find no other trace of Yearling. You go back to Stone Ground's guest room for the night. It is quiet and you actually manage to sleep.
In the weeks that follow, the villagers are noticeably happier, bustling about and chatting late into the night. Stone Ground raises a memorial stone in the middle of the market, honoring Yearling and expressing sympathy for Palm Wrap. You raise a cairn over the remains in the ruins. It's a little too much for you.
You teleport back to Ponyville, write up your report and get drunk for three consecutive days. After your bender, you hire a private investigator. You get results quickly. Head Over is in a herd with two mares and three foals and seems to be happy. You teleport back to the cairn and sit down. You read aloud the results of the private investigation.
Who knows if Yearling can even hear you, wherever she is? But maybe it will grant her some of the peace she gave to Palm. That's what you like to think at the end of the day, when your snowpity still echoes with the memory of Yearling's last words.
Author's Note
Snowpity - The organ governing magic within a pony's body. Some say it is the seat of the soul.
First Person POV
I am Starlight Glimmer, investigating reports of a banshee sighting in northern Equestria. The village is eerily similar to the one I once founded in my darker days. The ponies aren't cursed to suppress their talents, but they are living with a certain wariness and resignation I recognize. I make my way to the village miller, the closest thing they have to central government. Stone Ground is a solid, stoic mare with the light slate gray coat I often see in rock farmer families. I smile politely as I see her watching over a teen filly trot in the mill's harness.
"Stone Ground, I presume? I am Starlight Glimmer, here on behalf of the Crystal Castle."
She shakes my proffered hoof, then turns towards the teen.
"You're free to go once you finish this bag of wheat."
Stone ignores the relieved expression on the filly's face and leads me to her modest house. I glance over my shoulder at the mill.
"Punishment detail?"
Stone grunts in confirmation.
"Troublemakers ought to do something constructive if they have the energy to make mischief. But that's not why I sent for you."
The floor is polished pine, the walls mortared rough-hewn stone. Stone fills two mugs from a cask and hands one to me. I sniff it and recognize the scent of watered-down wine.
"You said it was a banshee? When did you first notice him appearing?"
She sighs and sits heavily on the table bench.
"About three or four months back, Under Presser found the grapes the northern edge of her vineyard had withered to raisins. A few weeks later, the mushroom farmers said they heard male keening at night. We sent out search parties, but we couldn't find anything."
I frown and sip my drink.
"Did he have any other effects on crops or ponies?"
Stone shrugs.
"Rot in the grain silo, foals having nightmares, a rockslide falling on the blessedly empty road, things like that. If we get any more crop damage, I am worried we won't last the winter."
That doesn't sound right.
"And has there been any sick ponies in the village?"
Stone shakes her head.
"No, we're from a sturdy stock and we have a good, clean well."
I have a bad feeling.
"And has the banshee focused on a single home or family?"
The miller mare looks at me in confusion.
"No, he wails wherever, all around the village and in the wilderness."
I nod decisively.
"That's not a banshee. It's a wrathful ghost. Has a stallion died under suspicious circumstances recently? Or have you heard stories of such happening nearby?"
Stone Ground frowns and shakes her head.
"Not in the village, and I haven't heard tell of such. There are some ruins on the other side of the mountain, down by a river. Mayhap there's something to be found there."
I nod.
"I'll take a look. In the meantime, is there a place I can stay? I may be here for a week or so."
She jerks her head towards the wooden door opposite the entrance.
"Guest room's there, usually the passing merchant uses it."
I smile.
"Thanks, I appreciate it."
Stone waves a hoof dismissively.
"It's the least I can do for you."
I leave about half of my pack in the guest room and set off to hike around to other side of the mountain. The air is crisp and clear, traces of the chill of approaching autumn refreshing me on my hike. I had missed this, down in the lowlands of Ponyville. I take a break a few miles from the village. I am more out of shape than I would like to admit. At least I can see the river Stone was talking about. I look down the slope and see a muddy pool swirling slowly in the distance. The far edge is bounded by rough boulders, dirt still clinging to the stone. I teleport down to investigate. The boulders and pool are larger than I had thought, it does look like a few months blockage of the river had gathered in the wide pond. Amid the stones and debris of the rockslide are planks of weathered wood, faded fabric, and-
Bones.
I sift through the debris with my magic. The natural stone is easy enough to separate and toss aside. The ancient mattress is nearly petrified and crushed, but it's easy enough to tell that it was the final resting place of the dead pony. I pile the broken and scattered skeleton back on it. I turn and start excavating the rest of what must have been a mansion, going by the foundation. Shattered clay plates and bowls, flint and steel in a leather pouch, twine... and a silver ring with a crest featuring a scale weight a comb against a crown. I have no idea house that belongs to, but I have friends who would know. I slip it into my saddlebag and teleport to the miller's guest room.
Twilight frowns across the illusion transmission.
"It's not ringing any bells, so it's probably a minor house from the early years after unification. I'll have Moondancer check the Canterlot archives."
I smile.
"Thanks, I knew I could count on you."
She laughs.
"What are friends for, if not delegating research? But are you alright? You'll be staying in a village haunted by a wrathful ghost."
I roll my eyes.
"I'll be fine, I have plenty of salt to circle my bed and a pouch more to throw."
She nods solemnly.
"That should be plenty, assuming you don't eat it all over the course of the week."
I huff.
"Please, I only take a few grains every once in a while, it's not like I snort the stuff."
Twilight frowns slightly.
"You haven't tried snorting salt, right? That can really damage your nostrils, and-"
"I know, /Dad/. Now, are we going to talk about the responsible consumption of minerals, or are you going to actually help me research about this ghost?"
Twilight smirks.
"I already sent a letter to Moondancer, now there is nothing distracting me from nagging you about your salt abuse."
I groan and settle in for yet another lecture on the dangers of high sodium. Sometimes I wonder why I am friends with such an annoying mare. Though I admit, her concern for my wellbeing is... nice to know.
It turns out, the salt circle does nothing to keep out the plaintive wailing of the ghost. Something about it resonates with my snowpity in a way that makes it nearly impossible to sleep through. I say nearly, because when I finally get out of bed an hour before noon, Stone Ground shows no sign of a restless night. She sets out a plate of bread, fruit and cheese. I mumble my thanks and dig in. Stone lingers by the table.
"There's a pony that showed up this morning. Goes by Yearling, you know her?"
I blink.
"A. K. Yearling?"
The mare in question pokes her head through the doorway.
"The very same! Rainbow told me about what was going on, thought I'd come by to share my expertise."
I get up and shake her hoof.
"It certainly can't hurt. Starlight Glimmer, professional problem solver."
I lead the archeologist to the table and go over what I have found out while I eat breakfast. Yearling frowns.
"A wrathful ghost, huh? He'll be hard to deal with without knowing his history. A remote place like this, we might just have to circle the town in salt."
I nod solemnly. That would make it hard for the village to expand, but at least they would be safe. Twilight would never let me live it down once she saw the invoice. I sigh at the thought. Yearling knocks back a mug of watered wine.
"Alright, I'll need to see that ring and the mansion ruins."
I blip the ring from the guestroom dresser to the kitchen table. The gray-maned mare turns it over in her hoof.
"Pre-, no, just barely post-unification wedding band. The crest is from the minor noble house of Cloudtuft. If I recall correctly, they were the first to introduce cigars to the greater pegasus population. They even lived in a cloud home of smoke!"
I frown.
"That couldn't have been healthy."
Yearling chuckles and shakes her head.
"It really wasn't. Pegasus lungs are more sensitive to that sort of thing, not to mention the fertility issues. That's why the house died out in the next generation or two."
I blink.
"Wait, if it's a pegasus ring, then why was it in an earth pony house?"
The archeologist raises an eyebrow.
"I told you, the Cloudtufts dealt in tobacco. They had to have earth pony suppliers, maybe even married into the business."
I nod in understanding.
"That makes sense. I'll send that along, maybe the records at Canterlot will go into more detail."
I take a moment to write down the information and transmute it into dragonflame of Spike's coalpity's wavelength. That done, I teleport the two of us to the mansion ruins.
I've already seen what I can see of the ruins, so I mostly trail after A. K. Yearling. The mare steps carefully through the piles of broken stone and shattered wood. Her wingtips gently sift through the piles of things I made while cataloging the ruins. She looks over her shoulder at me.
"You said you didn't take anything other than the ring?"
I nod.
"That's right. And it doesn't look like anything is missing from yesterday."
Yearling curses under her breath and goes to sit beside the skeleton on the mattress. I hesitantly approach her.
"What is it?"
She shakes her head.
"A damn shame is what it is. Only one bed, some dishes, but no silverware, the remains of a long dinner table... anything of value and easy to carry is gone."
Yearling sighs.
"The stallion was abandoned on his sickbed, either by his wife or the servants that were supposed to nurse him back to health. All they left him was his wedding ring."
I look at the skeleton again, imagining how it would be to lay helpless as everypony I thought I could depend on walked out the door. The silence of being alone, almost a non-entity in my own home. Yeah, I'd turn into a wrathful ghost too.
That evening, Twilight opens the illusion transmission.
"Well, thanks to your expert information,"
Yearling nods solemnly. My former teacher continues, "Moondancer was able to pinpoint exactly who it is that's haunting the mountain."
I lean forward in interest.
"Oh? That was quick."
Twilight half-smiles.
"That's why I had Moondancer on the job. His name was Palm Wrap, the son of a tobacco merchant. He married Tuft Luck of house Cloudtuft, which was something of a scandal back then. Not only was Tuft marrying below her station, but across tribal lines."
In a way, I am lucky there was a scandal, Palm might not have been recorded in history otherwise. Twilight continues, "Both of their families became rather wealthy once cigar smoking spread through pegasus culture, though there were rumors that Tuft was sleeping around on her negotiation trips. However, after twelve years of marriage, they had no foals, and Palm kept catching colds during the winter, taking longer to recover each year. Less than a week after he died, Tuft married the second son of a countess."
I frown.
"So what do we do now? Try to find a descendant of the Cloudtufts and let the ghost curse them so he can move on?"
Twilight shakes her head.
"Even if we could, that wouldn't be just, not after all this time. No, we'll just have to ring the village in salt. I'll let you start the preparations, Starlight."
I sketch a lazy salute.
"Understood. Thank you for feeding my habit."
The alicorn lets out a snort of laughter and ends the transmission. I turn to Yearling.
"If you don't have enough salt for your room, I already have a circle in mine."
The pegasus smiles sheepishly.
"I'll take you up on that."
As the sun slowly slipped past the horizon, A. K. Yearling sighs.
"I had hoped it was a banshee. They're supposed to be ethereally handsome, and they watch over noble or notable bloodlines. It would have definitely led to a dig, and I'd help somepony find their heritage."
I settle back on the bed and stare at the ceiling.
"Well, at least there was that ring."
The archeologist huffs, a bitter laugh that couldn't escape her throat.
"We can't bring that back. It belongs to Palm Wrap, if anything does."
I turn onto my side and look down at Yearling on her sleeping bag.
"You're taking this rather hard. Surely you've come across historical tragedies before?"
She closes her eyes.
"A few. But..."
She sighs.
"There was a time in my life, when I had just made it big, that I had a stallion in every city I toured for my book signings. Some knew they were flings going into it, others figured it out and came to terms with it or broke up with me."
I yawn, then verbally prod her.
"But..."
Yearling swallows.
"But one was completely devoted to me. Spent all day cleaning the house, embroidering, cooking elaborate meals, subtly hinting that he wanted to marry me as soon as possible. It was nice at first, but over time it became smothering, oppressive. And I couldn't protest a single thing because I was a sleazy mare seeing other guys behind his back."
I lay back as I see the similarities.
"What happened?"
The archeologist takes a shuddering breath.
"Nothing. I left that city for a long time. Years. Maybe a decade after I left, I check back on the place, and the house is boarded up. It's been another decade since then, and I still don't have the courage to find out how he's doing."
I vaguely wish I had done more than skim Cadence's emotional counseling field guide.
"That's rough."
Yearling snorts.
"It is. And I have nopony to blame but mys-"
She cuts off as a low moan echoes through the village, setting my snowpity thrumming. I grimace.
"It's going to be a long night."
The other mare grunts in acknowledgement. I lay there for hours, listening to the ghost of Palm Wrap explore the range between moaning and screeching, pleading and ranting with an incomprehensible accent. I hear some rustling. I turn to see Yearling stand up.
"If you're thirsty, I have a canteen in my saddlebag."
The pegasus mare shakes her head.
"I need to go get something."
I can tell she's lying, but I turn away and let her keep her dignity. I made sure I used the bathroom before going to bed for this very reason. Her hoofsteps fade as she leaves the room. And the front door opens with a creak.
My eyes go wide and I get up and stare at the open doorway from the guestroom. I sigh in relief when I see that the ghost isn't there. Neither is Yearling. I glance around. The ring is gone from the dresser too.
"Palm Wrap! I'm back! I won't leave you again!"
I can't believe my ears. I rush to the window and stare at A. K. Yearling standing in the street, holding up the ring. Is she possessed by the ghost of Tuft Luck? I cast a quick diagnostic spell, which returns a negative. Her strategy seems to be working. The ghost has quieted down, approaching her slowly. Flowing bedsheets press against his body in a wind that only he can feel. Palm is a handsome stallion in death, only somewhat more gaunt than lithe. He murmurs something to Yearling, who nods. Palm leads her out of the village, in the direction I recognize as the path I took to go to the mansion. I could follow the pair, but... Yearling seems to have settled Palm down, and I don't want to spoil that. Or get cursed. That would suck big sweaty teats if I got cursed while Yearling had everything under control. So I stay up on the bed, hoping she makes it back safely.
By morning, she isn't back. I teleport to the ruins and find it much like I left it the day before. Until I get to the skeleton of Palm Wrap. Two tan pinion feathers lay across the ribcage. I widen the search but find no other trace of Yearling. I go back to Stone Ground's guest room for the night. It is quiet and I actually manage to sleep.
In the weeks that follow, the villagers are noticeably happier, bustling about and chatting late into the night. Stone Ground raises a memorial stone in the middle of the market, honoring Yearling and expressing sympathy for Palm Wrap. I raise a cairn over the remains in the ruins. It's a little too much for I.
I teleport back to Ponyville, write up my report and get drunk for three consecutive days. After my bender, I hire a private investigator. I get results quickly. Head Over is in a herd with two mares and three foals and seems to be happy. I teleport back to the cairn and sit down. I read aloud the results of the private investigation.
Who knows if Yearling can even hear me, wherever she is? But maybe it will grant her some of the peace she gave to Palm. That's what I like to think at the end of the day, when my snowpity still echoes with the memory of Yearling's last words.
