The lonely freak of a mare, and the burnt husk of a stallion that shouldn't have met.

Celeste grunted with frustration as the shaft of her wooden ax broke once more, leaving the stone head embedded into the log. This was the third time the ax had broken while chopping the downed trees around her hut, and the gash along her rear thigh was burning fiercely today- it was becoming infected.

Throwing the snapped handle toward her hut, the freakish earth pony began limping toward the lake shore where she’d left the bucket earlier this morning so she could collect water to boil. She muttered angrily to herself as she dragged the injured leg toward the lake, noting how much of her home looked unchanged ever since the storm nearly three days ago. Her anger grew more intense thinking of all that wasted time, and while she wanted to shift that blame to the nearly dead pony occupying her bed, Celeste couldn’t in good faith.

If anything, it was that same pony that had broken the timberwolves’ hold over her, and burnt them to literal ash.

“They’ve been a proper nuisance for many seasons, and in one night no more.” She really was thankful for that blessing even if it came from a Cloud Stomper.

Timberwolves may be one of the many problems in this forest, they paled to the bigger creatures that stalked the rest of the forest. Celeste was sure she’d heard their howls coming from a known manticore den many seasons ago, and that thought had always lingered in the back of her mind, as they could easily find their way to her hut with nothing to stop them. A lame mare, and an equally dead stallion couldn't be more of a threat to them then the rain was to her garden.

The closer she got to the water’s edge, the bucket moved further out until it was far enough from the shore for her to dunk it beneath its surface. With a greater strain than expected, Celeste hoisted the bucket from under its cloudy depths, and brought it closer to land so she could remove whatever plants or potential fish she might have snagged. No plants this time but she did surprise a passing fish and sighed at what it meant…

“Fish for dinner…” Her life had been hard already, and while Celeste really didn’t like eating meat, the mare can’t turn away a free meal. Especially when in the past it seems her coat always looked healthier with a softness, and sheen after said meal.

Understanding the state of her body, eating fish for a couple of days might speed her recovery anyway. With all signs pointing toward a fishy dinner, the mare reluctantly left the poor fish within the bucket as her magic carried it the best it could. Celeste’s trip back to the hut was more exhausting than chopping wood, and she could dismiss it as the former for the because, she knew better. The potential infection of her leg, tattered wing, extensive use of her earth magic, and the lack of any good sleep had left her drained of all desire and energy to do anything but lay still. It was only the threat of death not only for her, but her savior that forced the tired mare off her sleeping mat to begin the healing process.

Celeste had left the tattered rags hanging over the door to keep the illusion of privacy even as the only other pony for leagues was in the hut, and most likely was slipping away as she hauled the water inside. Still, the freak earth pony parted the rags with her good wing to keep the bucket from being caught in them, and proceeded to pour the bucket into the cauldron. The fish, now free from its enclosure, began exploring its much larger container, and Celeste almost found it cute if she didn’t plan on eating the creature.

It always left her feeling sick, but the fish was food in a time when her garden was destroyed, and her forging trips had left her empty-hoofed.

She ended up making another 5 painful trips to the lake, and then another 5 trips back in order to fill the cauldron to the maximum height Celeste felt was enough for her intended purposes- the fifth trip had seen the fish returned to the bucket until a later time. She peered under the mass of metal, and began applying some of the chopped wood into the embers to help fuel the flame she would need.

With a fire stoked, Celeste left the cauldron of water to its inevitable fate to make use of her time by tending to her wounded thigh. She limped over to what was left of the table her mother had once put together from the remains of several trees, and began trying to gather what ingredients were left to create the salve. The table was old, and had nearly rotted away with age, yet despite the constant repair by its current caretaker had done little to keep the last fragment of her mother from collapsing. Some of the ingredients missed the container because the table was constantly shaking, and thankfully that was the only problem with it, because sometimes the vines used to tie the planks of wood and legs together would come undone.

This wasn’t one of those times, and Celeste managed to keep the table steady long enough to mix up the basic salve her mother had taught her a lifetime ago.

The fire was in full blaze by this point, meaning it would be a short time before the lake water would properly boil, and become usable leaving the hurting mare time to kill. Partly out of desperation, Celeste decided to make use of the partly heated water to wipe down her wounded thigh; all of her spare bandages were used on the stallion, and so she ripped some of tattered rags off the doorway, dipping them into the warming water. The ‘washed rags’ were then removed as she laid on the dirt floor next cauldron, using the fire to keep herself warm as she removed the patchwork of leaves covering her wound- she flinched as ripped them off.

“Epona…” She hissed through her teeth, and sighed in relief once it was finished.

The wound was indeed infected. The dried blood around its edges acted as a wall that allowed the wound proper to become a lake of dirt, and pus to fester unmolested till now. Celeste cursed her carelessness, for she swore she’d cleaned it well the first time, but what was done is done. Making use of the partly warm and clean rags she began to clean the wound, flinching as the sensitivity proved too much, but pressed on all the same. She ‘washed’ the rags in the cauldron of water nearly 7 times trying to drown the infection under the warm touch of the cleaning rag, gaging as she felt the dirt and pus mixture being pushed out of the wound, and running down her large thigh.

Biting her lip to keep from throwing up, Celeste managed to fully rid the wound of the horrid mixture enough to apply the salve she’d levitated off the table, thankful for her freak abilities. Once the salve was dumped into her wound, she gathered up the rag and patchwork of leaves and dunked them into the boiling water to rid them of the pus, and dried blood before removing them; Celeste used the partly clean rag to wipe her thigh while she reused the leaves once more to cover the cleaned wound.

Being careful, she stood up, and noticed the wet dirt where the pus had pooled and kicked some dirt over it until it was completely covered- the rags were dunked into the water yet again to clean them for their next task of cleaning the stallion. It was with this intent Celeste finally turned her attention to the stallion covered in blood soaked bandages, and watched for any signs of life from the very still…

“Was that a breath?” She asked herself, but couldn’t tell for certain.

His presence still terrified her, for the only pony she could truly remember was her mother, and the description she’d provided of her father. Ever since, she’d been living alone in this forest of death, and misery until his intervention that night, yet his deeds won him no favors for he was still a pegasus- a stallion no less. Celeste found her mouth becoming dry as her thoughts sent her emotions running wild, leaving the poor mare unsure how to proceed as she felt obligated to care for her would be savior, yet the fear of being near him left her unwilling. Mother had tried teaching her during her yearling years to be mindful of others, but that changed when they left the village for the forest, and many years of fear couldn’t be broken so easily.

“He is!” She happily cried, not even realizing her own relief seeing the sign of life. Unaware how lonely and eager she’d been to have another pony around even if they couldn’t talk.

Still, he was a pegasus stallion, and her mother’s teachings of them couldn’t be forgotten that quickly.

The approach was slow, for fear and a lame leg kept the abnormal mare from moving too fast, but eventually she reached the charred remains of the pegasus that occupied her bed, and while extending her injured leg out, sat by his side. This closeness was new, and somehow excited the mare as it made her feel younger in a way, like she was doing something bad and getting away with it!

Even laying beside the stallion, Celeste still towered over him like a mother looking down on their foal. The thought both intrigued, and comforted her with the understanding that if he should wake it would be difficult to overpowered her. When compared to the stallion, Celeste found the limp and soreness acceptable.

His body had been sparsely covered with what little bandages she had left, but their dull tan color was lost after soaking up his blood for the past three days, and nearly blinded in with the rest of his body. Even during the night he came in wielding powers of the storm, his coat color was a mystery, and more so now as nearly all of the exposed skin smelt of burnt fur and flesh. As Celeste inhaled the odor of decay her anxiety caused by the pegasus stallion turned to pity, for even a potential enemy didn’t need to suffer like this- her mind was made up.

Reaching with her limited magic, the freak earth pony found the rag she’d been using and removed it from the boiling cauldron to begin her work.

She scooted closer to the stallion now that she felt confident he wouldn’t spring forth and attack her, allowing the tentative mare to begin cleaning the stallion. The rag, wet, and nearly burning from its time in the boiling water needed to be cooled off, and Celeste did that by blowing on the rag until the steam coming off it was no more- the real work could proceed. In her youth, Celeste would have ripped the bandages off without any thought, but after several painful lessons understood she couldn’t do that without causing anymore bleeding. This is where the rag came in. The warm, and wet rag will loosen thin wrappings enough to be peeled off his burnt body, and allow her the chance to clean them in the cauldron of boiling water.

Glancing to the stallion’s head, Celeste observed his breathing partly to make sure he hadn’t died since she last looked before starting.

Even in her magic grip, Celeste could feel the almost burning rag, and was thankful it could be tolerated long enough to clean her foreign savior. She started on his barrel where most of the bandages had been applied, and with careful strokes of her magic dragged the rag across charred chest watching with foalish wonder as the flakes of burnt skin, crumbling fur, and dried blood clung to the rag with each swipe. Already the rag was dirty, and had to be re-dunked into boiling water, and wrung it over the floor before she could continue. In total Celeste had to repeat this another 5 times to get flakes of death off the stallion’s barrel and expose the raw skin underneath that unquestionably signaled signs of life.

“Poor creature…” she whispered as she wrung the rag once more on the floor, and noted how much the water had darkened since she began. Soon, she’ll have to change the water and reheat it, but taking another glance at the lifeless looking pony forced her to do it now.

Celeste threw the dirty rag onto the floor and proceeded to grab the bucket when she saw the fish lazily swimming circles in the otherwise clean water, and the freak pony clenched her teeth in frustration knowing she’ll have to risk her catch escaping if she wanted to properly clean this pony. She’d made little pins in the dirt before to hold extra fish, but often then not the fish either managed to escape or because they couldn't escape became an easy meal for roaming predators had stopped that practice to keep predators away.

Conflicted over the matter her hunger eventually won, and decided to dig a temporary pin along the lake shore to house the fish, thus freeing up the bucket to begin removing the water from the cauldron. The day was already growing long, and Celeste should have felt frustrated at the lack of progress repairing her home, but a strange fascination for the injured pony spurred her onward to care for her would be savior. It excited her more than angered her.

The bucket was emptied into this little pool, and once confident the water wasn’t leaking out began making her way back to the hut to begin changing out the water. Each trip resulted in Celeste carefully dunking the bucket into the scalding cauldron, and ended with a glance aimed toward the stallion.

“A pony!” Her mind kept shouting as she discarding another bucketful of the foul water onto her disheveled garden. “A pony!”

The little fire from earlier was becoming embers and ashes, but it did its job keeping the cauldron hot meaning the water won’t need as long heating up. Celeste could always restart the fire as needed, but the heated cauldron was already warming the few buckets of fresh lake water meaning a big fire wouldn’t be necessary without wanting to waste more resources. Still, the mare didn’t really pay the dying fire any attention as she gathered one final bucket of water, her mind still occupied by the idea of another pony being so close to her.

“A pony!” This was her rallying cry going forward, and didn’t even realize her tail was whipping back and forth with excitement as she dumped the final bucket of lake water into the mostly full cauldron.

Her eyes couldn’t help but dart to the burnt pony occupying her sleeping mat, and her heart would beat a little faster as she began to wonder who he was, or what he might know of the world outside of the forest. The chance of talking to another creature besides herself was slowly consuming her thoughts and actions as she now considered trying to wake the stallion up just to hear his voice once more.

“A pony!” She thought again with a skip in her step, and tail all but wagging as she made the final trip to the lake to check on the fish.

By evening’s fall, Celeste found herself dumping dirty water once more only this time she spared her tattered garden, and dumped all of it in a plot of land she’d decided would be cultivated later. Figuring the water would loosen the dirt for tiling in several sunrises , she felt this made up for the day's distraction, and loss of productivity even if it meant spending another night on the floor.

“A new bed…new!” She told herself as she watched the last bucket of water gurgle into the soaked dirt.

Since her decision to take care of her burnt savior there had been a growing excitement that had lasted all day, and already it was disrupting her long established cycle since she was still feeling energetic. In the nearly four days since the storm and timberwolf attack, Celeste’s fear of the stallion had grown to into a morbid fascination she’d never experienced in all the years living alone, as the requirement to survive had consumed all of the mysticism to explore- the stallion changed that. Even now as she limped to avoid aggravating her injured leg, she found herself wanting to skip back just to burn off this extra energy; none of the waiting chores could lure her away from the half charred stallion, as she unintentionally found herself wanting to nurture the stallion.

Either because of the distraction he provided, or a suppressed desire of another kind, Celeste found it hard to keep away from the stallion…

“A stallion!” Her heart was beating faster, and all she did was limp back and forth with a bucket of water to dump. Everything she was experiencing was confusing, but instead of leaving her fearful that something was wrong, Celeste found it thrilling!

The corners of her mouth were being drawn up, and she had no idea why he made her so happy.

“There’s a pony in my hut.” She whispered, but couldn’t stop the unleashed laughter now that her entire body was alive!

All the trepidations surrounding that land she’d claim as her own correlated mostly to what had happened in the early years with her mother, the trauma of her passing, and her father being taken by the town’s militia had greatly hindered the freak mare’s ability to go out and take risks. Everyday from her early yearling years until now, Celeste had done everything her mother instructed of her to a fault leaving the much older mare in rut for fear of altering her schedule too much; the night of the storm had been her first venture away from the hut in a long stretch of memory, which ironically, the last time she went off exploring had lead to her finding the berry patch she was seeking to replace.

Now, here she was with her lands in slight ruin for the past several days with a bucking pegasus occupying her bed, and yet none of this frightened the recluse mare as it should have. Often, she wouldn’t leave any light of fire burning within her hut to conserve the wood, lessening the risk of attracting attention from the forest. For the past two nights, a shift in her routine stopped her from putting out the little flames whenever she left so the near dead stallion might have something to keep himself warm. The thought of using her good wing to cover had dashed through her mind, but the idea had been a little too forward for her tastes and bashfully deciding leaving the fire was the better choice.

Reentering the already lit hut filled her with a different feeling entirely as well, for now it held a purpose to it then to remind the freak pony she’d forgotten something. It remained lit because it served a purpose!

Normally by the sun’s waning light, her hut would be matching it in stride out of the old belief to leave a light on in the night hours would draw evil to your home. A belief Celeste had kept up for a great many seasons until three moon rises ago when she bit her lip hard enough to bleed, and left it on the first night for the stallion out of fear he would cease breathing in the night. The second night, the fire was left crackling so the stallion might remain warm in the unusually cold night, but now she left the fire going not only for him, but herself to satisfy a delight in seeing bright light in the waning sunlight. A moth drawn to the flame. A foal being tempted by evil spirits meant to harm. A mare finally discovering another way to live.

Hunger was creeping up on her, and with her leg still sore from all the activity and wanting a chance to heal meant it was time to eat.

The fishy broth of her dinner had been another change from the normal as Celeste had an idea to give it to the stallion with the hopes he might heal faster as well. With some hesitation, Celeste fixed a small helping of the soup, and lifted the stallion up carefully to force the burnt creature a chance to drink. The entire time, Celeste bit her lip, and only used her magic to lift the bowl toward what had been his lips, and nearly dropped him when the water began to disappear.

Only when she had repositioned the stallion did she excuse herself from the hut to collapse wearily onto the grass to convulse her nerves away.

Eating is one thing, but watching the pegasus drink the fishy remains of the soup broth made her already weak stomach churn from the smell. She couldn’t even keep from gagging when her tongue touched one of the bits of fish let alone tolerate its slimy skin when she tried chewing it, further adding to an already miserable meal- watching made it even worse. Celeste knew she had to eat the fish if she wanted to heal properly because mother won’t lie to her, and that must hold true to the stallion flirting with death.

“Mo..mother won..nt..lie.” She tried repeating the phrase she would often say to herself when in doubt.

Against her desires, the freak pony knew she’ll have to use her magic again to catch more fish for tomorrow’s meal, but kept repeating that phrase of hers even as her weakening stomach convulsed to rid itself of the food that wasn’t even there. She shuddered as the convulsions racked her body trying to rid herself of what she had seen, but this time proved too much and she lost what little remained in her stomach. The experience was worse than with a full stomach, and all she could do was close her eyes as her body tried ridding itself of the measly water, and partially rotten carrot eaten in the morning. It wasn’t much, but watching the stallion slurp the fishy soup with no problem coupled with her own memories prolonged the experience until finally her stomach was sure there wasn’t anything left.

Wiping her muzzle along the grass, Celeste managed to rid herself of the raw taste gripping the fur along her mouth. It was a small victory, but one she’ll take as she weakly stood back on her trembling legs. Fighting this sickness, and painful injury, Celeste limply made her way back to the hut trying to steel herself for any possible mess her stallion might have made during her absence.

“My stallion!”

She had to stop as the thought surprised her, but she continued with a little trot in her step.

While not ‘her’ stallion in the way her mother and father were, the abnormal pony allowed all of his care to fall upon her shoulders after all. Mother had done so for father once before (or so she was told), and wasn’t she doing that for her savior this very moment? She could have left the poor creature to its certain death back in the woods, but didn’t! Plus it allowed her the chance to marvel at a pony more closely.

Even if her long established routine was ruined for good, Celeste couldn’t help but feel an urge to skip (even though she was limping) back to her hut. It had taken her the last few sunrises to understand just how lonely she’d been, and this revelation made doing basic chores a hassle to complete. The ruined garden fencing being an example of that.

Still, the prep in her step uplifted the freak pony’s spirit enough to cast off the gloom of responsibility for another day to take care of the burnt husk of a stallion occupying her bed.

Entering her hut, Celeste was relieved to find the stallion hadn’t discarded his liquid meal, and that everything in the hut was in the exact spot as before. Her stomach whined from hunger and the abuse it had been put through, but Celeste paid it no mind as she moved toward the fire under the cauldron. The flame was more subtle as the embers and charcoal mix cooled from nearly two days of being constantly lit, yet the freak pony prodded them with a small branch she kept on the ground. She watched as the flames crackled once more and tried to reignite, but could’t find the strength to do so, and this made her smile as she knew they wouldn’t catch again without her intervention.

“Good. Good.” She whispered to herself, knowing the two of them would be warm tonight without being consumed by the flame.

Speaking of being kept warm, Celeste’s leg pulsed angrily at all the movement it had been put through, and with nothing keeping her awake any longer decided to comply with its wishes to rest. A small thrill consumed the freak pony as she limped toward her charred guest as she recalled the previous night, and the feeling of ‘wrongness’ it brought with it; somehow, it didn’t terrify her as much like her mother used to warn her before her passing. Celeste could still remember all of her mother’s scolding words and warnings against being too friendly to any creature not an earth pony, yet she was now actively trying to save one.

There were a great many problems that plagued her life, and while the stallion’s arrival offered no relief from those problems, it did energize the older mare to no end at having something to live for again. Celeste couldn’t properly describe this new feeling growing inside her like a weed, and could only compare it to how she looked after her garden, but stronger. Her desire to take care of her garden stemmed back since earth ponies first learned to plow the land, Celeste was wise enough to know there was a difference between her garden and the charred stallion in her bed.

Her garden was critical to her continued survival in these scary woods, while the stallion wasn’t. Yet, if she didn’t account for him saving her then what did she owe the stallion? Nothing really, as she was spending more time caring for him then completing her required chores, the same ones her mother had tasked her with so many sunrises ago.

“Why do I keep you around?” She asked herself as she carefully stretched out her injured leg to prevent the wound from opening again.

She continued asking herself this question even as she laid down next to the stallion who paid her no notice, especially none as she draped her large (uninjured) wing over him. Her reasoning for keeping the stallion warm held little motive then a need to touch, and help her savior. The previous night's reluctance was already discarded as she found nothing, but stories keeping her from helping a pony in need. A pony that had saved her twice: from timberwolves, and from herself.

“Good night my little stallion.” She muttered into where his ears would be if he wasn’t a completely charred mess of a pony.

The previous night she barely had the courage next to the stallion, and now she was whispering into his ears. A complete upheaval to her way of life as if the sun had grown dull, and the moon bright instead, yet all of this excitement intrigued her all the same. Watching the stallion’s labored breathing (better than four days ago), left her worried as well as still hungry, but reminded what her mother used to say whenever things got really bad.

‘Today is just a single day of many to come, and not meant to fawn over. Tomorrow could be the best day of your life, and could be missed if you keep looking back. You have to keep a smile, and have the will to wear it. Life means nothing if you have nothing to keep you waking up.’