A Dolorous Soul

Time Turner trotted north along the trail. The grass had been tamped down flat over years of travel, and the exposed dirt had become smooth and firm like dried clay. It was easily wide enough for two ponies to trot side by side, though no one else ever traveled this far from town.

The sun high above had burned away the morning fog, and the path ahead was now brightly illuminated—even through the forest canopy. Some of the leaves on the trees had already transitioned to their autumn colors, the golden yellows and vibrant oranges gently whispering in the breeze as Time Turner passed. When a strong wind blew, the trees would come alive, their leaves dancing as if they were the flames of a campfire.

As the stallion trotted along, he glanced occasionally from left to right at the autumnal hues surrounding him. One streak of color caught his eye. A dash of red just poking out from a branch high to his right. He wandered closer to the tree, an inexplicable thread of curiosity pulling him in.

Time Turner slowed to a stop and focused his attention on the odd outlier. He realized that he was not looking at a part of the tree; rather, he was looking at a creature—a cardinal. He thought it looked like a female. The males are always fully and more brightly colored to attract a mate, while the females usually have minimal red plumage along their head and tail with a dull brown down. This cardinal was quite different.

Much of the plumage on her head was burgundy, which matched the almost maroon tail feathers. Her body was also much more lightly shaded than most females, closer to a light beige than brown. Time Turner cocked his head to the side and squinted at the curious oddity that was perched before him.

The stallion had never seen a cardinal anywhere quite like this before; he felt a strange draw to it. As Time Turner approached, mesmerized by the newcomer, he felt something underhoof, but he was too slow to stop. He winced as a crisp staccato snap shot through the forest. The diminutive avian spooked, and she flew off with a flurry of wings. The sounds of flapping quickly faded as she retreated into the canopy.

Time Turner's posture deflated and his ears splayed out, a strange weight pulling on his heart. A heavy sigh escaped his muzzle, and he turned back to the trail. Up ahead, the Canterhorn Mountain peeked through the trees in glimpses, but the stallion's blue eyes were locked to the ground directly in front of his path.

Time Turner heard the gentle babbling and burbling of the water before he saw it. The tree line suddenly broke open to a pond with a small stream feeding it from the mountain. The water shimmered and danced with the light of the azure sky above as he trotted over. At the shore, the stallion could see most of the way to its bed. The iridescent scales of the fish glimmered and flashed as they darted back and forth under the surface.

Time Turner reached down to the edge and picked up a flat stone. He brought it up to eye level, examining it by tilting it left and right—turning it over in his hoof. Its edges were smooth, rounded over by its passage through the stream, and both faces were remarkably in plane. The stallion lowered his hoof and gave the stone a couple of hefts, glancing between the stone and the water. He took a few steps back from the edge, brushed some dirt off the stone's surface, and balanced on his rears. He pulled his foreleg back and tensed his muscles, ready to spring.

With a grunt of effort, Time Turner whipped his leg around, hurtling the rock forward. The stone sailed out over the top of the water, quickly losing height. It skipped just once before tumbling through the water with a kerplunk. He furrowed his brow as he dropped back to all fours. Glancing left and right, the stallion selected another similar stone. He returned to his previous stance and once again drew his leg back.

A single splash was all that disrupted the water's surface. Time Turner slowly dropped his hooves to the ground again, his eyelids drooping. As the stallion let his head sink low, he spotted something in the dirt where he had just gotten the failed skipping stone. A glint of color among the earthen browns nestled in the coarse gravel of the bank. Raising an eyebrow, He reached down and pawed it from the dirt.

The stone was opaque with rough, irregular sides, no bigger than an acorn. The stallion brought the raw gemstone to eye level, his eyes narrowing in focus as he scrutinized it. It was a Rhodolite, judging by the light raspberry color. Time Turner looked down again at the depression he had pulled it from and glanced around, looking for any more. The gem had no others around like it—It had been alone. The stallion let his eyes wander the shore again for a moment before he pocketed the gemstone in his bags and walked the short distance back to the forest's edge.

Just before leaving the pond, Time Turner stopped at an old oak tree. Its branches cast a large, wide shadow around it and the tree was easily over seventy feet tall. At its base, partially buried in the ground, rested a large flat rock. On its top, a cairn of twenty stones was piled a couple of feet up. The bottom shale shards were wide and flat, with green and brown moss covering half of their gray surfaces. The stones and rocks grew progressively smaller, forming a pyramid-esque spire as the pile rose up with less and less moss adorning them.

Time Turner pulled the rhodolite out from his bag and gently balanced it on the top of the stack. He stepped back and stared in silence at his addition. The gemstone somehow flickered in the shadow of the tree, a tightness rising from his chest as a dark vignette clouded his vision.

Time Turner gasped as a cacophony of flapping snapped him from his trance. He stepped back, looking up into the branches of the oak tree to the source. A female cardinal had perched above him, letting out a tweet and chirping at him a few times. The stallion took a half-step forward and squinted at the avian arrival. His eyes widened as he recognized the light beige down and the burgundy head crest. The mysterious red follower fell silent and shuffled closer to the trunk, but did not flee as he approached this time. Nonetheless, Time Turner stopped his advance, and the two pairs of eyes locked each other in a stare.

After a moment, the stallion turned his head back to the cairn and gave it one last look before he stepped back onto the trail to the Canterhorn. The cardinal inched herself away from the tree trunk and watched as he departed for a moment, before dashing to a tree just behind him. Time Turner looked back at his feathered shadow a few yards back and slowed to a halt. He turned around to face the songbird, head leaning to the side and an eyebrow raised. The bird matched his head tilt and stared back at the stallion. He took a step towards it and the cardinal took a matching hop backward. He took a step in reverse and the avian flitted forward.

Perplexed, Time turned back to the north with his head over his shoulder and kept his new companion in sight. Resigned to being followed, he recentered his gaze forward and picked up his pace to the mountain. The colorful critter followed not too far behind.

Out of sight, the crowning garnet on the cairn caught the waning afternoon sun and dimly glowed a strawberry red.