The World Zolt Lives In

Cold.

The world felt incredibly cold.

It was a good thing that she and her son were the types of ponies to grow out thicker fur coats during the winter. Without those genetics, gathering food at a time like this would be unbearable, even with fur-lined outerwear. The trees were encased solidly in inch-thick icy tombs and the wind had grown out its fangs just in time for the dead of winter. If there was one benefit to the intensity of this blizzard, it was that the snow was flecked with enough ice that, when she and her son walked carefully enough, their hooves did not breach the earth’s frozen exoskeleton.

“Come on, honey.” She raised her voice a little to be sure it reached her son’s little ears over the blasting wind. She hardly had to look to see where her son was stationed; his fur, unlike her or his father’s, was a vibrant orange. Certainly, had it been autumn, she would have to keep a much stricter eye on him. Her young colt tore his eyes away from the snowy evergreen fern he had been staring at, fossilized in the thick freeze just like everything around them, and tromped his way over to her.

“How are we going to find anything to eat in this weather?” His mother heard him mumbling beside her.

“Lots of creatures love the snow just as much as you do,” was her simple, affectionate response. And it was accurate, too. Her son was entranced by snow more than anything else. ‘If you didn’t have me to keep watch over you, you’d let yourself freeze to death in that snow!’ she would always say, and he would always quietly mumble his begrudged agreements.

So, the hunt continued for nearly a half-hour, mother and son treading slowly and carefully over the ice that managed to remain intact beneath them. The mare managed to snag two large Snowbits in this time, which was plenty to keep them fed for a day or perhaps even two, but the two pegasi agreed amongst themselves that there was good luck fluttering in the chilled air and that they should try to find at least one more small animal to take. After trudging through some brush and coming through to an oddly quiet clearing, the small orange colt suddenly tugged on his mother’s saddlebag to prevent her from advancing further.

“Mama, there’s a Chillcorn over there,” he pointed with his small hoof towards a blue squirrel digging in the snow – “can I try to get it?”

His mother looked for the creature in question. Sure enough, across the clearing there was a bushy blue tail poking up from the snow. The little rodent was burying its food deep in the ice in hopes of retrieving it once the thick freeze had melted. There were droves of Chillcorn Squirrels in the area this time of year, so hunting them had never been advised against as far as she knew.

The mare put a violet hoof to her chin, considering the options. Her son had gone with her on a few hunts before, but every time he had tried to arrow something down himself, he had always whiffed it and the animal would escape with no injury beyond distress. The target was only a small distance away, but still a tinier animal than he had tried to take down before. But the two were feeling particularly lucky, and she knew that he would be grumbly and sad for the whole rest of the day if she didn’t let him try.

“You think you can get it?” The mare took her quiver from her left side, opposite her saddlebag. Strapped firmly to the outer side of the quiver were two bows, one large longbow and one tiny compound bow that served as her son’s training bow. It packed less punch than the longbow but should still certainly be able to successfully slay a small creature like this.

“I think I can try,” The young pegasus reached clumsily into the quiver while his mother unhooked both bows from it. Before he could grab himself an arrow, his hoof was batted away gently.

“Hold on, dear. Let me pick the right arrow.”

Her son pouted but relented, sitting down slowly on the packed ice. He gingerly grabbed the small bow from his mother’s hooves when it was presented to him and patiently waited for the arrow that was soon passed to him. He nocked it and slowly took aim. The circular clearing they had both found themselves in was so well-protected from the slashing wind that the snow had a slight dip towards the middle of the area, where less snow had managed to accumulate. The squirrel avoided digging in the lower snow, popping back up to the surface occasionally to bury the stash it had made and to burrow other holes.

Everything in the world, except for the oblivious Chillcorn Squirrel, seemed entirely still.

He took deep breaths. Lined up the shot. Closed his eyes right before…

schhM!

The arrow launched towards the unsuspecting animal and plunged right into its shoulder. In instantaneous panic, the squirrel turned and started to run to the trees before collapsing into the snow seconds later, mercifully dead.

“Look at that!” The older mare took her son’s bow from his hooves, making an effort not to stomp with glee. “You got it!”

The colt frowned a little, looking on at his first-ever kill. “I wanted it to be instant.” He didn’t like the idea of an animal actually suffering at his hooves, whether it was necessary to use their meat for food or not. His mother put a hoof on his shoulder.

“I know, honey. Every good hunter wishes that for their game. But it was your very first! You’ll get better with time... Oh, I’m so proud of you!”

The two ponies trotted towards the kill, hooked it onto the mother’s overcoat, and dug around in the snow for a little while to gather some of the Chillcorns the squirrel had been hiding.

Leaving the clearing and moving back through the snow-flecked brush, they were soon back on their trail back home — and back into the storm, where the wind had not cooled its temper.

The two ponies began their trek back home. While the snow slowed them down a great deal, it kept the meat fresher to make up for it.

When around fifteen minutes had passed, the larger pegasus could hear her son gasp. She turned to look at what her son had seen — it took a lot to make her son gasp, let alone out of surprise and not excitement.

There was something deep blue sticking up from a mess of ruined snow. The scattered dents in the otherwise pristine, flat white were already being filled back in with the sheer amount of ice coming down. It was impossible to tell where the small footsteps came from or even what shape they had been.

“Is it a dead animal?” The mother asked, and the orange pony, who rushed to try to unbury whatever it was, shook his head worriedly.

“It’s a pony, mama. He wasn’t here the first time we went by.”

The mare immediately stumbled in shock, a hoof breaking through the ice by a few inches. She pulled her hoof free and moved as quickly as she could without breaking through the floor of ice. Once she reached her son, she began digging through the snow alongside him, uncovering a small pony. She could see a gray wing poking through the snow, which she wiped as free of ice as she could. The pony was clearly not conscious, and it didn’t seem like they were breathing, either.

“It’s a filly,” she murmured, devastated. The pony they had found was so small, she couldn’t be much younger than the colt that had spotted her. She was light gray with blue and yellow hair, a loose scarf spread haphazardly around her. Other than the long scarf, she had no clothing at all. Either the tips of her hooves were marked with white fur, or the snow and ice was starting to embed itself into her flesh. It wouldn’t be the first time the mare had seen such a thing happen. But to a pony so young…

“Somepony left their filly out here all alone?” The small colt was very distraught, starting to tremble for the first time since he stepped hoof into the cold. Eerily, the wind began to die down as though it, too, was too shocked to speak.

“Either that or she wandered off and they couldn’t find her. But who would be in this area so recently — in this kind of a storm?” The mother and son didn’t live particularly close to civilization by trail. Of course, the young filly was a pegasus, but her wings were small and her age indicated that she likely couldn’t fly long distances. She would have had to do a lot of work to get to this area in her condition. Could she have fallen out of a sky-carriage, or even an Aeropony?

An orange hoof gently brushed some snow out of the lifeless filly’s hair. “Maybe they were coming to our house. What if her parents are waiting there for us to come back? For us to help find their missing filly?”

The older mare nodded, understanding. The idea was a bit farfetched, but they didn’t live very close to anypony else and she knew this young filly had to have been accompanied by someone at some point in time. “Alright, sweetheart. You’ll have to wear the game belt while I carry the young one home. Let’s hurry."