Sunbringer

A heavy thud rang out behind Square Hole as she took a moment to breathe. The ropes around her shoulders and neck dug deeply into her caramel coat and, judging by their stiffness and the weak but incessant tingling she felt, she was sure to find bruises tomorrow in their place. She shook some snow off her black mane and glanced back, first at her cutie mark depicting an evergreen, and then at her precious cargo—a boulder easily as big as her, chiseled down into a near perfect cube. Next her eyes followed the path it had carved into the knee-deep snow and she sighed deeply.

She’d received her name both because there were already too many ponies named after their similarly plant-based cutie marks and, more importantly, in the hopes that she would grow up to be of a cheerful and agreeable attitude and could mesh with pretty much anypony. A noble idea in principle, but at that moment all she felt was bitter irony that she wasn’t named “Square Haul” instead.

With another heavy sigh she rolled her shoulders and looked forward, taking a look at the Tower in the distance. She was not taught in the ways of the sage so she could only rely on her own intuition, but to her it seemed like had grown about two or perhaps three rows of cubes taller. Even in the biting cold a sense of warmth filled her briefly—if nothing else, at least they were getting closer.

Knowing the next hauler would still be some distance off, she spent another minute searching for the Sun above. Not that she was unaware of where it stood, as it hadn’t moved ever since the world had frozen over, but that still didn’t mean her task was easy. With each passing day it felt like it was harder to find that tiny, barely brighter speck above as the raging cloud-blanket overhead grew ever thicker. Square closed her eyes and focused on the spots where her hooves connected her to the earth. A sense of vague, yet inherent understanding flowed into her from below and to her dismay, it was a warning. The soil cried out to her that even with their bond it could only sustain her people for a few more moons before it, along with everything and everypony, would give in to the frost. Square mustered her courage and reached deep inside, emanating a wordless reassurance to Nature that she would not let that happen, begging it to just hold on for a little longer, that it’d be...

“Square!”

The sudden noise caused her to yelp and look around wildly, her gaze finally coming to a halt on another mare behind her. A mare whose pleasant mint coat, teal mane, and mud-ball shaped mark stood in stark contrast with how incensed she looked. A mere glimpse of her face was enough to make one forget the ice and cold around them. Yet, the moment she opened her mouth to speak, Square felt like the snow suddenly became twice as cold and the world dingier than a pit of coals.

“Are you daydreaming again? Filly, what if next time there’s a snowstorm and I accidentally smash into your cube? Will you take on both of our duties then, huh?”

“No, ma’am. I’m sorry, ma’am,” Square droned, whilst trying her best to avoid eye contact. The mare had other ideas.

“Don’t ‘sorry’ me. You of all ponies should know just how important our work is. After all, you were the one—” to Square’s chagrin, the mare’s voice turned smooth and almost song-like as she stared into the distance at the Tower “—to find the Celestial.” A moment later she was back to her original self. “But enough gawking, we’re already behind schedule. Get back to work!”

“Yes, Tribesmother,” Square said in the same sullen tone as before. Deep inside, she was happy that the conversation had ended so soon. The mare’s name was Barren Earth, a moniker she’d received after ascending to become the village’s leader for her purported ability to lay bare any secret a pony may hold. Square couldn’t help but find the name fitting, though not for the same lofty reasons the Tribesmother liked to boast.

As she picked up the slack and began pulling again, Square admitted to herself that for better or worse she had to agree with Barren about the importance of the task, even if their reasoning couldn’t be more different. With nothing better to occupy her mind, her thoughts wandered to where they usually did those days. Back to where it all began.