Chapter One:
Autumn Harvest
I climbed steadily up the slope, fighting against the blizzard that threatened to blow me off of a cliff. At some points, the snow was so packed I could barely make it through. Earth pony blood is thick, though, and my muscles had been strengthened by years of hard labor.
My snow coat shielded much of my creamy-yellow fur from the weather, but my face was still stung by the sharp icy particles that flew in all directions. My legs ached from climbing; my back from the heavy saddlebag.
I know I make it sound as if this was an unpleasant venture, but the truth is, I loved every second of it. The uncertainty as to if you were going to make it to the next resting spot; the harsh conditions that threatened to kill you at any moment; the bone-chill that was only muted by the hot adrenaline running through your veins and pounding in your head. This was what I lived for.
I looked up at the sharp icicles up above my head as I tread cautiously through a snow tunnel. Mt. Trot is known for its strange ice formations and constant snowfall – I found it fascinating.
Suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, a cabin came into view. It rose up out of the snow like a small castle, but instead of looking like a fortress, it seemed cozy and welcoming. Its roof was quite angular, and so long it nearly touched the ground. A small trail of smoke drifted lazily out of a chimney, and a warm glow crept out from the cracks in the shutters and under the red door.
I could tell that it was an inn before I saw the sign. This was the only place to stay in Hoofbeat Pass, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that it looked quite accommodating. I slowly walked up to the door and gave it a small push.
Peering through, I quietly called out, “Hello?”
The door swung open without warning, and before me stood an older mare, brown mane tied up in a bun, and blue apron stained with stew broth.
There was a small moment of silence, as we stared at each other, her blue eyes piercing my own green ones.
Her face lit up with a smile. “Oh, darlink,, please; come in out of ze cold!”
Before I knew what was happening, the unicorn was pushing me out of the snow and into the warm inn.
“Oh! Well, thank you –”
“Eet eez of no consequence, darlink! You must get warm!” she insisted. Her horn glowed faintly as she removed my saddlebag and coat with her magic, hanging them up by the hearth. “You must be starved; I weel get you someting to eat, yes?”
In spite of myself, I smiled at the mare’s hospitality. I trotted over to my saddlebag and pulled out a map with my teeth. I laid it on a low-set table and unfolded it, studying the drawings.
From what I assumed was the kitchen, the innkeeper called to me. “So, what do you call yourself?”
“My name is Autumn Harvest, Ma’am,” I told her. “And you?”
She came out with a bowl of steaming stew, “I am Frostfall. Eet eez a pleasure to meeting you, meez Autumn Harvest.”
Her thick accent felt nicely on my ears, and I smiled again, thanking her for the meal. Before I could take a sip, however, the inn’s door again swung open. In the doorway stood a large, husky stallion with a white coat and icy blue mane. At first he seemed rather intimidating, but Frostfall rushed over to him, exclaiming, “Glacier, look; we haf a guest!”
He looked me over carefully, evaluating me, I suppose. “I assume you have the bits to cover your stay?” he asked, striding into his domain.
“Glacier!” Frostfall hissed.
“Uh, of course, sir!” I quickly replied.
The stallion nodded passively, “Good. You are welcome in my inn.” He turned then to his wife, “I have brought you more berries.” Nodding to his saddlebag, he showed her said food.
The pink mare brightened up even more than she had before. Levitating the berries, she trotted over to the kitchen. “Tonight,” she declared, “we weel eat well!”
***
As it turned out, I was the only guest staying at the time, and the first Glacier and Frostfall had had in a while.
Frostfall was gushing over me, so much so that I became embarrassed. “Such a well-mannered pony she is! I weesh zat all of my guests were as nice as you. But most of dem are quite rowdy…” she seemed about to go on without stop. Thankfully, her husband interrupted.
“So, Miss Harvest; what brings you up to Hoofbeat Pass?” Glacier inquired.
After swallowing a sip of cider, I looked up at him. “Well, I guess… it’s nothing really spectacular. I’ve just never climbed a mountain before. I guess I thought it would be exciting.”
“But how dangerous, for a young filly like you, to be climbing dees mountain, darlink!” Frostfall exclaimed.
“I am seventeen,” I told her.
Frostfall lit up like a lightbulb, “Really? Dat eez vunderful! My daughter – she eez eighteen! You shall haf so much een common!” She looked over towards the staircase, “Mountain View, come down here, plees!”
A female voice called down irritably, “Gosh, mom, one sec, okay?!” There was a pause. “Wait – is it the mailpony with my package?”
There was a clopping of hooves as the pony ran down the stairs. She stopped dead when she saw me.
“Oh,” she commented flatly, “it’s just some guest.”
In front of me stood the most jaw-dropping pony I had ever seen. Her white fur and striking blue mane reminded me of her father, while her bright sapphire eyes, horn, and pink streaked tail seemed inherited from her mother. She wore flashy diamond stud earrings, a charcoal grey scarf, and four extremely fashionable socks.
“Autumn Harvest, meet Mountain View!” Frostfall said happily.
