Kalara
by
De Writer
© 2013 by Glen Ten-Eyck
All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author or the policies of Fimfiction.net
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Kalara sat quietly just to one side of the cave-like door to her small shelter-home under the thick rim rock near the top of the ridge. The crossbow was laying across her furry, goat-like legs, her hands griping the weapon lightly but ready for instant action. She was watching her back trail for any sign of being followed.
Patience and sharp eyes were the twin keys to staying safe. Kalara believed firmly in being safe. After a half hour, she saw a movement in the brush below, near the small canyon's dry stony water course that meandered slightly as it made its way out in the direction of “civilized” lands. Lands where one like Kalara would be killed on sight.
She was slowly lifting her powerful crossbow for action when she recognized the source of the movement. It was another refugee from the advancement of “civilization.” The coyote had a ground squirrel in its jaws. No threat to Kalara. She carefully lowered her weapon. She was no threat to those who did not threaten her.
Kalara scanned the skies warily before getting up. There were none of the dangerous winged ones flying about, trying futilely move the huge mass of thunderheads gathered above the mountains of her home. They were fools to try moving clouds that were Woven to their place. Those clouds would stay where they were until their rain was needed by the Weaver.
Moving with habitual silence in spite of her cleft hooves, she gathered the reasons for her trip and entered her home. The tightly woven and pitched water basket she emptied into a larger covered basin and replaced the lid. She set out the two smallish rabbits that she had shot for her dinner and then very carefully began to unpack things from her carrying pouch.
It was a strange seeming collection of roots, leaves, flowers, lumps of minerals and some long sharply tipped yucca like plant leaves. The leaves she put into a small vat where others like them already soaked. The water was already somewhat foul but that did not matter at all. The fibers in the leaves would come out more easily as the fleshy parts of the leaves rotted away.
Kalara turned her attention to the nearly done tapestry on her loom. Racked beside it were many smallish shuttles, each one filled with a different shade or hue of colored threads. The last of three image panels was taking shape under Kalara's careful fingers.
The first panel showed the small town of Scrubble, nestled at the foot of a mesa not more than twenty miles from Kalara's hidden home. In the background, above the mountains behind, were many tall, anvil topped thunderheads.
The second panel showed a disaster of thunderous rain, lightning, flood and fire destroying the whole town, buildings, orchards, fields and all.
The last panel, the one that Kalara was now weaving, showed the plain at the foot of the mesa. There was a camp of the peaceful buffalo people in the place of the town filled with murderous ponies.
Kalara regarded the whole tapestry carefully and could find no flaw in its weaving. It was a good work. It would easily Weave itself into the Tapestry of the World.
Brow between eyes and horn furrowed, Kalara shook her head again. Why did it trouble her so? It needed only a few more days to be done. When the last thread was pulled tight and the tapestry cut from the loom, a just and absolute vengeance would begin.
As so often when troubled, she turned to the shelf of Remembrance. There, before a tapestry, carefully restored from the rents and trampling of the vicious ponies that had destroyed her village, sat the beloved Remembrances of her mother and sister.
The flowing and graceful script of Remembrance on the fabric said, “These, our loved ones, have been woven out of the Tapestry of Life. They live on in the Tapestry of Memory. Honor them well.” Comforting words indeed. With love, Kalara touched the horn tip of her Mother's Remembrance and stroked softly back to the root of the horn and then back, following the smooth, gleaming bone, between the eye sockets and down to the end of the nose. She repeated the gesture with the Remembrance of her sister.
Contact established with her loved and loving family, Kalara crouched reverently before them and spoke softly, “Mother Shehart, my sister, Kamalit, why am I so troubled? Surely we all deserve this vengeance. Those who destroyed our whole village and trampled all of our Remembrances to fragments must fall. Is there any way to know what the flaw is? I cannot find it in the Weaving.”
In Kalara's soul settled a deep conviction that the taking of vengeance was just but there was something about what justice was that she did not understand. Kalara's brows between her eyes and horn furrowed as she tried to figure out how something so seemingly simple as justice for the death and destruction of their beloved home could be misunderstood.
Her meditation was disturbed by the sound of pony voices. Childlike pony voices. It sounded like maybe a filly and a colt.
Kalara slid silently to her hooves and, gripping a stone knife, went to the shadowed side of her door, plastering herself to the rocky wall and listened, her rounded, black fur tipped ears spread wide to catch any whisper of noise. Pony children? What were children of ponies doing five hundred feet above the canyon floor? And, worse, on that dangerous path?
She heard the clatter of young hooves skittering on the slanted stone. Not even thinking, Kalara gripped the stone of the doorway edge with one paw-like hand and lunged out of her hiding place to grab with the other at the slipping pony. Feeling fur slipping away through her stubby fingers, Kalara's claws snapped out. She dug them deep into pony hide and muscle. She pulled with all of her considerable strength.
In a mere second, the pony landed unceremoniously on the floor of Kalara's home. Now exposed to the sight of a young filly who was trembling with fear, Kalara beckoned carefully with a slow gesture.
“Come, child. You cannot turn about there. If you wish to live, let me help you. Place your right front hoof just there, where that sort of crack is. That is right, exactly there. Wait until I tell you to move.
“You are going to need to place all of your weight on that hoof and use it to lunge across to me. I saved your companion. I will not let you fall either.”
The trembling filly had her foot in place. Kalara nodded and stepped back to give her room to land safely on the shelf in front of her home. “Just as I told you to do, come now!”
With a sure-footed clatter of young hooves on stone, the filly lunged across the slanted rock to safety. Kalara caught her around the neck and spun the filly so that she also went through the door. A meaty thump and struggles told Kalara better than eyes could that the filly had tripped over and landed on her companion.
Entering her cave-like dwelling, Kalara kept her face impassive despite the comical sight before her. Long experience had taught her people that the plant eaters could be made nervous or afraid at the sight of fangs.
As gently as possible, she helped her unexpected guests to their feet and said, “Sit. Be comfortable. Young colt, I have a salve to put on those claw marks. It will soothe the pain and heal you. Will you allow me to help you?”
The colt, wide-eyed with fear was shivering and had not sat. The filly said sharply, “Jonathan! Whatever she is, she just saved your life! Trust her!”
Still looking rebellious, now that he had fear under control, Jonathan said, “Don't be crazy, Gala! This is one of those dangerous monsters that that the town had to wipe out. She wants to poison me!”
Acidly, Gala responded, “If our hostess wanted you dead, all that she had to do was let you fall. A few hundred feet of empty air with rocks at the bottom would have done it just fine. I don't know WHY she saved us, but she did!”
Speaking softly, Kalara said, “It appears that you have some wisdom, Gala. I do not presently wish either of you any harm. What I want to do is simply heal those cuts that he got when I, umm, invited him here instead of letting him fall, as I have some others.”
Gala promptly snorted, “Fix him up. If my idiot brother tries anything, I will freeze him in his tracks!”
Both Kalara and Jonathan looked at Gala in puzzlement. Jonathan whickerd, “You can't do that stuff! That's Unicorn magic! We are Earth Ponies!”
Smiling a bit grimly, Gala furrowed her brow in concentration. A pale yellow glow gathered near the center of her forehead. It reached out and yanked the surprised Jonathan's rear hooves forward, sitting him solidly on his rump.
Panting slightly from the effort of holding the struggling Jonathan, Gala forced out, “Do whatever you need to for healing this foolish brother of mine. But hurry. I can't hold him for long unless he gets his senses back.”
The shocked Jonathan actually ceased his struggles, looking at his sister in puzzlement. Kalara nodded to herself and quickly took a strip of fabric from a shelf and a clay pot from another shelf. Smearing contents of the pot on the strip, she neatly cut it into small patches.
Before Jonathan quite knew what was happening, Kalara laid the first of the patches on one of his wounds.
Jonathan stared as the bit of fabric vanished and a cut that should have taken days to heal, vanished with it. Surprised, he exclaimed, “It quit hurting! Do the . . . Please do the other ones.” He paused and lowered his head, downcast as he added, “I am sorry that I was so rude. I was frightened.”
Kalara bobbed her head in a gesture that made her horn tip describe a small circle as she replied, “Apology accepted. Fear makes for foolishness.” She applied the patches with their ointment to the remainder of Jonathan's cuts. In short order, they were all healed.
Gala watched the healing with wide-eyed fascination. As the last patch disappeared, she asked with real interest, “What happened to those pieces of cloth? Why did they go away?”
Kalara looked Gala in the eye and replied, “The cloth was Woven to heal. It joined the Fabric of the World, taking the wounds with it. As it is Woven, so it is done.”
Looking at the filly with interest, Kalara asked, “May I touch you? It may be that I can help your horn to emerge. It must itch or be painful, there just beneath the skin like that. I know that mine was.”
Gala gave her hostess a pony curtsy, crossing her forelegs and bending low. She extended her head, saying, “Please look at it. My horn bud has been itching and painful for the last month.”
Kalara probed around Gala's forehead, under her forelock, with her short, powerful fingers. Forgetting herself and smiling, she said, “It is called Skin Bound among my people. If you wait, it will break through the skin. If it does, there is a large risk of a serious infection. This is already swollen with pus.
“I can open the skin over it cleanly and heal it around the horn. It is a common kithood problem among my folk. I am surprised that none of your Healer ponies noticed such an advanced case of delayed horn development. It was wise of you to exercise your magic even though your horn has not erupted.”
Gala's eyes narrowed some. Her face distorted to a sly smile. In a voice suited to the smile, she said, “I hid it from them. Dad's a nut about his whole family being pure blooded Earth Ponies. If he finds out that I am a unicorn before I can get out of the house, he will have a huge fit.” She paused thoughtfully and then added, “When Jonathan and I get back, my horn is going show. Dad is going to blow up like a volcano.”
Jonathan got a puzzled look for a moment before comprehension dawned in his eyes. He put his head down and covered his eyes with his hooves. In a small voice, he said, “I would worry more about Mom. Dad will turn on her and say that it has to be a fault in her blood.”
Gala snorted and replied scornfully, “If I was throwback, my horn bud would have formed properly. I am a half breed! But you are right about Dad. He will throw her out.
“Whatever Mom's faults, she always tried her best to raise us right. She still needs a safe place to live.”
Kalara was watching the whole exchange with some puzzlement. Mother Shehart, Sister Kamalit, I am sure that you sent these two to help me with my troubled mind. What should I learn from them? I will watch. Perhaps it will become clear.
She offered, “Why would something like that matter at all? Are you not all ponies together, Earth, Horned and Winged alike?”
Jonathan twisted a lip and snorted, “Sure, those flappers and pointies would like you to think so! Neither of those can grow anything worth eating. Earth Ponies are the strong base. Dad says so!”
Gala promptly cut in with, “Riiight. And Earth Ponies are so great at growing things that they don't need pegasi to give them rain when they need it. Or unicorns to keep the pests out of the crops. If we don't cooperate, none of us eats well.
Dad is an idiot.”
Jonathan looked shocked. “Dad says that if the flappers and pointies were any good, we would be getting the rain that Cloudsdale is supposed to be sending. All the flappers that they can send still lose control of the clouds. They all wind up over these mountains and don't let any rain fall.
“The pointies have been trying to release the clouds too. No luck from them either. The drought is killing off all of our orchard trees and fields! If this keeps up, we are all going to have to abandon the town.
“The pointies and the flappers are useless. If they weren't we would have good crops! We did everything right!”
Kalara stamped a cloven hoof firmly as she interrupted, “NO! You caused this drought yourselves. You murdered my people by an attack in the middle of the night!
“The Tapestry of the Season was not finished when you killed the Weavers and ripped it from the loom. The gathering of the clouds to make the winter's snow was all that was Woven.
“Without the guiding will of the Weavers, as it was Woven, so it was done! The Weaving joined the Tapestry of the World and the clouds come but the rain and snow in their proper measures was not yet Woven and so does not happen.”
Jonathan stopped cold. Uncertainly, he said, “But – – I thought – Dad says that when a unicorn dies, so does his magic. How can it be different?”
Gala stepped over close and asked, “In all of this fluffle, you learned our names but I have not heard yours. Who are you, Ma'am?”
Kalara put her hands together and bowed, her forward swept horn lightly touching Gala's forehead. Straightening back up she said solemnly, “I am Kalara, a Weaver of the World. It is good to know you.”
Gala paused to think and then did another pony curtsy, extending her head to touch Kalara's as best she could. She straightened and said with equal solemnity, “Kalara, World Weaver, I am Gala, of the Apple ponies. It is good to meet you.” She turned to her brother and said tartly, “Introduce yourself properly, Jonathan.”
Sullenly he retorted, “I already herd her name and she knows mine. I won't bend a knee to any monster like her.” Pointing a fore-hoof a the Remembrances of Kalara's mother and sister, he snapped, “Can't you see that she has more of those magic bones to cast evil spells on the town?”
Kalara was entering a battle crouch, ready to spring when Gala stepped quietly between the two. She said reasonably, “No, Jonathan. I do not see any evil spell bones. I see something that I do not understand. Kalara is a Weaver. If I have heard what she said correctly, I would be far more afraid of that tapestry on her loom.”
Still tense and ready to spring, Kalara replied, “You are wise, Gala. They are not magical bones, whatever those might be. They are the Remembrances of my mother, Shehart, and my sister, Kamalit.” Kalara chewed her lip for a short bit, frowning deeply. Looking up, she said softly, “When one of yours dies or is killed, you place them in the ground. You put up a stone with strange marks on it to show the place. Then you go away and forget them. Is that not so? I have seen your ponies do it.”
Jonathan started a retort but Gala silenced him with a quick pulse of her magic. She turned to Kalara and curtsied again. “My brother and I were shown through the wreckage of your town a day after the attack was done and you were all gone away. Our father told us these things about the bones being used in evil magic. He claimed that they stopped your spells before you could launch a plague of death on the town. That is what he said that the bones were for.
“You called them Remembrances. You also spoke of what we do with our dead. I think that I understand. We bury our dead with a stone to remember them by. We do not forget them. Those are your mother and sister. You do not forget them. The house of bones was like your graveyard and our father destroyed it.”
Gala drooped her head. “I am sorry. We had nothing to do with that evil deed or any of the rest of it. Most of the town is equally innocent.
“It was our father and about ten others who did it. Now that you know that, are you going to harm us to get vengeance on him?”
Suddenly changing from a tense crouch to sitting, Kalara's eyes began to tear and she cried for a few moments. Still weeping but with a peaceful smile, she got up and paced solemnly across the room to her mother and sister. Gently touching the base of each horn and tracing affectionately down to the muzzle, Kalara said softly, “Thank you, Shehart and Kamalit. You have showed me the wrong in what I was doing. Thank the Tapestry of Life that I was not yet done with this Weaving. I will find a different way to do this. A proper one. Slaying the innocent for the actions of the guilty is the flaw that I could not find in my Weaving. The defect was not in the Weaving, but rather in my heart.”
Jonathan leaned over and whispered in Gala's ear, “Do you really think that Dad was wrong about the Weavers?”
Gala considered thoughtfully for a few moments before replying, “No. Not mistaken. I think that he lied outright. He did visit them several times before he organized the attack on them. I was with him once. He asked a lot of questions about them. He knew what he was doing.”
Jonathan sat solidly on his rump and started to weep. Brokenly, he muttered, “That makes too much sense. Dad and his buddies used being the heroes who saved the town to go from nobodies to controlling the town council.”
He turned stricken eyes to his sister and said, “Dad's a murderer. I am sorry, Gala. I believed him. I believed the teachers that Dad told what to tell us.” His shoulders slumped. “I did better than you in school because I did not ask questions like you did.” His lips quirked up into a sad smile. “I got better grades by being dumber than you.”
Gala patted his hoof with hers and replied, “Not dumber, Jonathan, just more willing to believe what you were told. Not everypony who questions is smart, and not everypony who follows is dumb. Dad browbeat you more for asking questions when we were smaller because he expected his colt to be like him. He didn't care about me. I'm a filly.”
Kalara sat quietly and watched the exchange carefully. She finally interrupted to say, “I am going to eat soon. That usually bothers all of the grass eating kind. I feel that I can trust the two of you.
“I have some questions to ask and they are most unfair. I would not ask you except that I have no other to ask. If I show you a safe path down to the canyon floor and good pasturage, will you come back here? It is urgent.”
Before Gala could speak up, Jonathan, sides heaving with pent up emotions, said, “We will be back. We don't want more innocent blood spilled. You can count on us. Whatever we can do to make things better, we will do.”
Taking a ragged breath herself, Kalara reached across the space between the two and gave them a hug. Eyes brimming with tears on the edge of shedding, she said, “Thank you. You have prevented me from being as bad a being as your father. You have showed me that goodness and honor can be found where I would never have looked for it.
“Let us get you to good food for your kind and I will have the food that is good for mine. After eating, we will speak of the things to come.”
Kalara shouldered her bag and put the two rabbits into it. She also picked up a quiver of her crossbow bolts and the weapon itself. Sticking a goat-like foot into a stirrup at the front, she heaved on the string with both hands, pulling it back to a full cock with a smooth, practiced motion. She set a bolt against the string and set a keeper clamp to hold it in place. In less time than it takes to tell, her weapon was loaded and ready.
Gala asked diffidently, “Before we go, Kalara, would you please see to my horn? And, I admit to being frightened of your weapon, there.”
Kalara carefully set the crossbow aside and said, “You have no need to fear my crossbow. There are some wolves in these mountains. Also, should you be followed, I will defend my home. That is what it is for. Not you. You two have done me only good and deserve no less from me.”
Kalara carefully probed about the horn bud, buried under the skin of Gala's forelock with stubby but skillful fingers. She parted the fur and examined the skin carefully. Nodding to herself, she went to her shelf of cloth patches and pots of salves. Using a razor sharp flint knife, she nipped a hole in the middle of one cloth patch and smeared it with the contents of three of her pots. She also took up a small piece of ordinary cloth and soaked it in water.
Coming back, she told Gala, “I need you to hold very still, little filly. This will hurt for a moment. You do have the beginning of an infection and it must be drained first. That will hurt some. As soon as I have it clean the healing patch will take away the hurt. Do you understand?”
Gala, holding rigidly still, said, “Yes, Kalara. Please take care of it.”
Kalara brushed the forelock away from the area and, using the same flint knife, that had so easily cut the healing cloth, made a small slice in Gala's forehead skin. Greenish white puss began to leak out. Kalara gently mopped it up with the damp cloth. She pressed lightly on the fur about the cut and brought forth more gobs of gooey, infected material which she meticulously cleaned up as well.
Jonathan, keeping his silence, watched his sister who was managing not to flinch, though she had tears in her eyes from the pain. He placed a hoof gently on her foreleg and whispered, “You are doing great, Sis. It won't be much longer.”
Kalara looked up at him in approval and said, “Indeed it won't. I am almost done.” The Yellow tip of a solid but short horn now protruded from the center of the cut in Gala's forehead. Carefully wiping with the damp cloth for one last time, Kalara placed the healing cloth over the tip of the new horn and smoothed it against Gala's skin. The cloth faded away, leaving a sound new horn emerging from skin that now attached to it properly.
Jonathan gave his sister an admiring gaze and said, “You look great, Gala! That horn is just what you need!” Pausing thoughtfully, he added, “You were really brave, too!”
He turned to Kalara, who was straightening up her healing shelf and said, “That was a lot of puss, wasn't it?”
Calmly, Kalara replied, “It was. It was just about what I expected, though. Now that we are done, I can say that it was about to destroy her horn. It was corroding it away. Only the fact that she exercised her magic with it saved it.
“Now, shall we go?”
Gala bit her lip and then asked tremulously, “Are you sure that it is OK now?”
“Yes, Gala. I am sure.” Kalara picked up her crossbow and led the way out onto the ledge in front of her dwelling.
As the young ponies followed her, Jonathan whickerd, “Some monster, Dad. You are a worse one than Kalara is.”
As promised, though the way was steep and posed two short hops, it was easy and safe. There was a wide meadow at the foot of the path and it emerged through some large stones. Kalara made them wait among the stones while she carefully scouted the area. Returning, she allowed them to come out to graze.
Pointing across the open area, to some tall brush, she said, “There is a small spring there. It has good water. I am going over to those high rocks. I can eat there and not bother you. I can also watch over you and the approaches from down the canyon.”
Gala promptly trotted over toward the spring. Jonathan followed after, asking, “Are you that thirsty, Sis?”
Sparing a glance for him as she reached the brush, she replied, “Not really. I want to see what my horn looks like!”
Jonathan caught up to her, in time to see Gala looking at her reflection in the spring's pool. She was tilting her head this way and that to admire the appearance of her nice clean yellow horn. Its tip only just cleared her forelock but with the proper head tilts, it could be seen for its full two inch length.
Instead of splashing the pool playfully, Jonathan stopped a respectful distance from Gala and let her do as she willed. She saw him in the refection and turned eagerly to say, “Isn't it great? Here I am, a roan and my horn is yellow! I never heard of that before!”
Honestly, Jonathan replied, “I haven't heard of it either, Sis. It does look really nice though. If it stays like this you are going to be bea . . . um, More beautiful.”
Gala butted him gently and urged, “Let's get something to eat! I saw a clover patch while I was coming over here.”
In only moments, they were both nose down in clover, munching away eagerly.
It did not last long. Kalara ghosted silently up to the filly and colt, whispering, “Some pony is coming up the canyon. A lone mare. I do not wish her harm by accident. Come, look and see if you know her.”
Peering out of the underbrush, Jonathan only needed a single quick look. “It's our mom. The way she is watching back down the canyon, I think that she is alone and wants to stay that way.”
Gala concurred. “There, she went for that clump of brush and is watching the way that she came. She wouldn't do that unless she was afraid of being followed!”
Kalara nodded too. “Say nothing of me. Go. Meet her before she finds the way to my home. Send her away, if possible.”
Jonathan just led the way, sneaking to the side of the canyon furthest from Kalara's home. He doubled back down past their mother, to be as far away as possible from the trail up the canyon side. Gala followed him as quietly as she could.
They surprised their mother by coming up the canyon from the direction that she had just come.
They acted surprised when she revealed herself calling out, “Jonathan! Gala! What are you doing up here in these mountains? You know that you are not supposed to be here!”
Jonathan retorted casually, “Neither are you, Mom! I don't know why you came after us here. We said that we were going east around the mesa, not north, into the mountains.”
Their mother smiled and pointed out, “That is exactly why I came this way. You are trying to find out what is holding the clouds back, aren't you? You know that several other ponies had that same idea and none of them has come back. That is WHY it is forbidden!”
Jonathan stretched and curled about to scratch at an ear with a hind hoof. Looking up he replied, “And that is why we wanted to try it. It was a challenge. I think I know what happened to at least one of the missing ones. Back down canyon aways there is a pretty big rock-slide. It is new, too.”
The two youngsters tried to give their mother a hug. She quicky pulled away with a grimace of pain. She panted, “Sorry, Jonathan. Sorry Gala. My side hurts.”
Their mother winced a little as she sat in the shade of a large bush. Instantly, Gala was by her side, yellow magic probing along her mother's ribs. Concerned, she asked, “Did Dad buck you off your feet again?”
Looking up in surprise, her mother said, “No, Dear. This is from the night of the attack on those poor creatures that the Buffalo people liked so much. I tried to stop your father. He had to kick me so hard that he took me off my feet twice before I stopped. He broke two of my ribs for sure.”
Gala soberly said, “I can feel that. I do not think that I can do anything for them. They have begun healing wrongly.”
She paused and added, “You do not seem too surprised that I am a unicorn.”
Her mother sadly said, “No, Dear, I am not. When you were born with no visible horn bud, I hoped that you would follow the Earth Pony line. Later, I could feel it under the skin.
“I almost had it removed. I decided against it. I am glad now, that I did not. You are a beautiful filly and your horn is uniquely different, being yellow while you are a roan.”
Gala smiled at the compliment but said, “Mom, you need to wait here. I need to talk to someone and it has to be private.” Without giving her mother a chance to respond, Gala trotted off.
Once among the rocks she called softly, “Kalara, I need to talk to you. Please come out.”
As silently as a ghost, Kalara stepped around one of the big stones. “What is it, Gala? Will your mother leave?”
Gala nodded, “In a while, I hope. There are two things that I wanted to talk to you about.
“Mom is the first one and the second one, sort of. Mom has two broken ribs that are healing badly. She got them trying to stop the attack on your village. Dad kicked her off her feet twice before he left to lead the assault. He left her on the floor with her ribs broken.”
Kalara pursed her lips thoughtfully and suggested, “You want to know if I can heal those ribs? The answer is yes, but it is complex and will be painful until I am done. She will have to consent to my doing it.
“What was the other thing?”
“I haven't asked Mom yet, but if you can allow it, I want to stay here with you. If I can, I want to learn your kind of magic. Maybe I can teach you some of our kind too. Even if we can't learn each other's kinds of magic, we can still help each other.”
Kalara listened and shrewdly observed, “There is more, isn't there? You said how angry your father would be to find out that you are a unicorn. You want to protect her, don't you?”
Cocking her head, her horn cutting a dashing appearance, Gala asked in return, “Is that a bad thing? I think that I see how to do it so that everypony is safe except for the bad ones. We can make your revenge on the killers and despoilers exact.”
Kalara nodded to herself and asked, “Would you betray your own kind?”
Gala put a hoof down firmly. “NO. I would not betray my own kind. I WOULD help to create as good a justice as I can. I would defend my friend with my life if I have to. That is not the same as betrayal at all.”
Kalara put a muscular arm over Gala's neck and gave her a hug. “I would be honored to share my home with you, Gala. Now let us go and see if we can help your mother.”
They emerged from the large stones together and came to where Gala's mother was waiting. Her palomino coat and mane dappled by the shade of the big bush. She did not show any surprise.
Instead, she offered a hoof and said, “I am pleased to meet you. My name has caused me embarrassment since I was little. I am Winesap.”
Kalara repeated the gesture, gripping Winesap's hoof with her hand. She repeated the introduction that she had used for Gala and Jonathan. “I am Kalara, A Weaver of the World. It is good to know you, Winesap. You have raised some fine children.”
Introduction over, Jonathan asked, “Mom, why weren't you surprised by Kalara?”
Turning her head to her son, light catching yellow highlights in her nearly white forlock, Winesap said, “I may be a palomino, but never forget that Dumb Blonds aren't. I expected something of Kalara's sort when Gala was so secretive.”
Kalara said compassionately, “Gala told me how and why you got hurt. I can repair your damaged ribs but it will require some time and it will be sharply painful while I am working. Will you give consent?”
Jonathan said, “Do it, Mom. I had some cuts and she fixed them right up. She took care of Gala's horn too. It was all infected and messy but look at it now.
“Kalara is a great healer.”
Winesap nodded as she thought deeply. She asked, “Will the ribs heal if we just leave them alone?”
It was Gala who answered, “No, Mom. They are healing badly. They are not knitting together at all. That will make your chest weak and painful for the rest of your life. I felt them over when I used my magic on you.”
Winesap nodded acceptance. “Please do what is needful. How long will it take to heal up?”
Kalara told her, “When I am done, it will be healed completely. We have to go and get the things that I will need. We will return soon.”
She and Gala disappeared among the rocks. It was quite some time before they returned. Gala was carrying a largish pack slung over her back. They spread out a large blanket for Winesap to lay down on. Jonathan took her head and held it, stroking his mother's mane.
Kalara began by explaining how she was going to wash the area and then cut in carefully, going to the injured ribs. “I have to cut away the fresh bone growth and push the ends together while I do the magic that will heal the bone. Then I will have to put each cut muscle together the same way. Finally, I will do the skin and you will be healed.”
Gala listened too. She asked, “Will my magic interfere with your kind, Kalara?”
“Why, Gala?”
“I can hold the cuts open and push together whatever you want. That will give you both hands to do your cutting and healing. My magic should be useful that way if it won't mess up what you have to do.”
Kalara nodded, thoughts turned inward. “We can try it, Gala. If anything causes a problem, I can go back to the ways that I am sure of.” She began to scrub the area where she was going to work on Winesap's side.
As she started to cut, Winesap whimpered and shivered but held herself still. Yellow magic gently but firmly pulled the opening wide.
As predicted, it took a while. As the last patch of healing cloth joined the Fabric of the World, Gala, a bit tired from so much use of her unicorn magic, said, “As it is Woven so it is Done. Was my magic a help, Kalara?”
Kalara, gathering her tools and closing her pots looked up and replied, “It was a great help, Gala. I would still be trying to get the ribs to fit properly without it.”
Still laying on her side, Winesap drew an experimental deep breath. Amazed, she said, “It doesn't hurt anymore! Thank you, Kalara!” She scrambled to her feet and frisked about the meadow, reveling in the freedom from pain.
Gala stopped her cold with, “Mom! Mom, I can't go back with you. Now that I can't hide being a unicorn, dad will go crazy if I return. He will hurt you really badly. You know that he will.”
Jonathan looked at his sister and then said, “You are dead, Sis. That big rock-slide got you. It is new enough to pass off and it is exactly where a pony would try to shelter from hot afternoon sun. Let's go and set it up.”
Somewhat later, Kalara and Gala watched as Jonathan and Winesap went down the canyon. As the unicorn and the Weaver backed up the canyon, yellow magic wiped out all trace of their passage.
Up in Kalara's home, she was carefully undoing some of her Tapestry. Watching with lively eyes, Gala took in everything eagerly. Kalara was showing her the very fine delicate threads of power that formed her Tapestry.
Kalara was explaining, “See, I am now making the place for the bad ponies to leave Scrubble because of the drought. Then we will fix the endings so that there is no flood. The good ponies and the Buffalo people will share the land peacefully.
“What should happen to the bad ponies who destroyed my friends and family?”
Carefully working to load a loom shuttle with the thread and its delicate power, just as she was being taught, Gala replied, “No idea. That justice is yours to decide.”
--The End--
Author's Note
KALARA, a World Weaver: Female: Not a pony at all. A faun like being with goatish legs and hooves below the waist and the body of an anthropomorphic cougar above. She has a Cougar's tail and ears with black tips. A single horn in her forehead rises and arcs forward to a point. She has tawny fur and hair. Hands are strong but have stubby fingers equipped with retractile claws. She has dark brown eyes with vertically slit pupils.
