The Winning Pony and the Templar

Cloudkicker snarked as she landed in front of the humans bar. Injured, some little sprig of a monkey had leaped to the defense of her lover's foal, and probably would have taken a beating if the Pegasus hadn’t relented. Rolling her eyes, she walked in. Empty. The last few nights, the place was packed, but only Garret was there, the top of his head  with an odd blue hat that only seemed to cover the back top of his head . On one corner of the bar, two candles burned, a piece of paper between them, and photo behind it. The human sat at a table, a book open.

Walking up, she chuckled.

“Nice beany.”

Looking up from his book, he said, in a trifle cold tone, “It’s a yarmulke, thank you very much. And I’d also thank you, Miss Kicker, to keep your usual peanut gallery to yourself.”

“Ok, ok. Sorry…” Cloudkicker scuffed her hoof to the ground, head ducking somewhat.

“No. I’m sorry.” Sighing, he went back to reading.

“So, where is everyone?”

“Dies e quies. Day of rest.” Nodding over to the candles, he said “It is also fade day.”

As he spoke, the sun began to set. At the words fade day, it finished its task. Cloudkicker opened her mouth, but a cold wind seemed to blow through the room. Somewhere behind, a voice whispered. She whirled around, and outside, could see three silhouettes at the double doors. And she could also sort of see right through them. Whimpering she skidded back.

“What… who are they?”

Garret smiled, and sat cross legged on the floor.

“Come, sit next to me.”

Trying to retain whatever dignity she had, Cloudkicker all but bolted to the humans side. Leaning against him, she gazed wide eyed as the silhouettes walked in. Smiling, Garret, ran his fingers through her mane.

“So, you can see them, huh? Most of your people refuse their mere existence.”

Somewhat comforted by the gesture, she still shivered as the figures walked towards the candle. As her head turned, she saw five more walking from the back way, and more walking down the stairs from the apartment to the bar floor. Scratching her with one hand, he went back to his book with the other.

“What are they? Ghosts?”

“I suppose that’s one term for them. Souls of my people, some lost, others visiting. So long as we don’t disturb them or try to leave, they should leave us alone. Shall we talk of other things?”

Cloudkicker nodded. Looking at the book, her eyes widened. In it, she saw a sketch of one of Equestria’s enemies.

“Why are you reading about Changelings?”

Garret looked up.

“Ah, you mean the skinwalkers? Such a pity so many have fallen in thrall with Chrysalis.”

The pegasi frowned.

“Thrall?”

The human nodded.

“Despite their appearance, and the rather interesting rumors of your people, the skinwalkers aren’t insects, and most certainly aren’t monsters.”

Seeing the furious look on the equines face, he said, “Tell me, why do you hate them so?”

Cloudkicker looked down.

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

Garret shrugged, and continued, “Rumors aside, and whatever one of them did, can you really hate them for needing love to survive? Are they so wicked for just wanting to live?”

Cloudkicker scowled.

“They steal love damn it! They suck it out of pony’s with those damn fangs of theres when they can’t get it through deception.”

Garret shook his head.

“Another rumor. It is true though they use the forms of others to elicit feelings of fondness towards others. But they only

reason they do so is because they believe they cannot find it willingly.”

Garret looked down at his book.

“Our poor brothers and sisters. How we failed you…”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Garret looked up again, and shook his head sadly.

“Before your people, mine lived in peace with the skinwalkers. We loved and cherished them as children of Elohie, as we did our brothers and sisters the stygians. How my people failed them both. How they suffered for our cowardice.”

Cloudkicker snorted.

“Not enough, if you ask me.”

“Cloud…. They are who they are. Do you hate fire for burning?  Should my people hate yours for what your ancestors did?”

The Pegasus spat, “Did you see what they did to Canterlot?”

“I saw what some skinwalkers did. Under the orders and false promises of a worthless upstart.”

Cloudkicker shook her head.

“Your impossible.”

Garret shrugged, and looked at the door.

“Welcome brothers and sisters. Please, enjoy your stay.”

Cloudkickers turmoil of emotions was stilled as the humans fingers went through her mane, and she watched as more shadows walked towards the candles. As they gathered, they whispered, and soon, other shadows came in from the night. Pony’s, a couple of gryphons. The human forms made room. The Pegasus suddenly gasped as the next shadow came through the door.

“Mommy….” She jumped up, and walked towards the shadow pony. The other shadows stood aside as she walked, and tears began to streak down her cheeks.

“It can’t be…. Mom, is that you?” she stopped short as she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she whimpered at the human.

“Garret, its her. Its my mother….” The human shook his head sadly.

“I… I know Cloud. But you can’t touch her yet. The spirits wanted to give you one last meeting before the Long Tomorrow, but please, stay behind me.”

Walking in front of Cloudkicker, the human folded his hands. Looking downwards, he closed his eyes, and began to pray.

Slowly, the other shadows began to walk to the corners of the bar, giving them space. The pony shadow began to solidify, and Cloudkicker began to see her mothers features. Cloudkicker was stunned into silence. Slowly though, the features faded again, and the pony turned and walked back into the nights gloom.

As the rest of the shadows left, Garret knelt down, and drew the mare to him. Clenching her eyes, she sobbed, “Thank you…. Thank you so much…”

………………………………………………

A few minutes later, and a somewhat happy pegasus left his place of work, Garret sat down in front of his bedroom desk mirror. His eyes narrowed as he looked at his reflection. Suddenly, his fist lashed out, smashing the reflective surface. He didn’t even feel the shards sinking into his knuckles, the years of body honing in the Templar working its magic of discipline.

His eyes glared tearily back at him as he looked down at the desk, an in the shards, he could still see the damning evidence of what he’d done looking back at him.

“Why? Why here, why now?  Why that cold bitch? Why test me now, why?”

Tears streaked down his face as his shoulders shook, and he slammed his fist against the desk.

“Why? You have her mother, you took Kala. Why do you hate me so?”

He took his head in his hands, and wept.