Chapter 6

I lay stunned to find that the pony isn’t solidified in ice, and with a sudden sense of urgency I rush to her body with my mind running crazily. I’m not sure, but I feel there just . . . just might be a chance I can do something to help her. The charred remains of wood and paper give me the feeling that this pony has been here for some time, but the cold eventually got to her. No, this can’t be . . . I can’t feel her pulse at the base of her neck or her chest. Then it occurs to me: the stone; I can maybe use it to bring her back. In the back of my head I keep hearing ‘it won’t work, it’s too late’. But I’m not going to give up that easily, not without trying. I hold the stone over the pony’s chest in the hopes that its power may resuscitate her, but strangely the stone isn’t glowing anymore. I stare at it puzzlingly as all of its color has suddenly faded leaving behind a transparent glassy stone.

“No . . . No, no, no what’s going on?” I say.

I shake the stone and wave it around frustratingly in the air expecting it to somehow start to glow again, but nothing happens. Flustered I angrily shove the stone into the floor and run around the room for another way to create some heat. The ashes, there must’ve been a way for her to start a fire it just has to be around here somewhere. I start pushing tables and lifting rugs checking every last corner for something, anything that can help. It’s cold, but I can feel sweat starting to form at the base of my forehead from the tension of the situation. Each second I waste looking for a way to get some heat is another second she drifts away until I have absolutely no chance of bringing her back. Come on; come on there has to be something! Then I leap down to the floor straggling to grab what I had been looking for. An open box of matches covered in frost is resting in a corner around a bookshelf. I open the box and find only five matches left, which is more than enough. Now all I need is something to burn. Now my eyes are jumping around the room crazily. The books! I can use them to burn. Pulling off book after book and tossing them onto the pile of ashes I yank out a match and strike it against the rough black strip on the side of the box. Over and over I strike the match but it just won’t spark.

“Come on; come on . . . spark already!” I say heatedly.

Then after numerous tries the wondrous flickering of the head of the match is followed by it finally igniting with a little flame dancing about. With it in my hands as it warms my index and thumb finger I realize that this feels incredible to see a real flame after all this time of being surrounded by snow. I drop the match onto the books as the pages quickly catch the flame and share it amongst the others. The small fire grows as I move the pony as close as possible to the flame as I can careful not to place her too close. Now, all I can do is wait. With all the curtains and bed sheets around the room I figure I could use those to help as well, but they too are cold and frozen stiff. My heart is stuck in this constant heavy rhythm that pounds in my chest. I notice the stone I slammed onto the floor and pick it back up examining it further in my hands. It still refuses to show its color for some strange reason, and with the feeling that it is just an empty vessel now as that warm feeling it gave me has completely vanished I set it down gently onto the icy floor. I sit near the pony watching as the frost slowly melts and slips through the small hairs of her coat and puddles onto the floor. I find something odd about the floor around the fire. The ice doesn’t seem to be melting. I glide my hand over it and feel that it is completely dry and still cold. It’s impossible; the ice would have definitely at least started melting by now.

After quite some time the light outside has darkened as I lean back against the bookshelf behind me. The flame occasionally starts to die down, and with the pony still not moving I continue to lay books into the fire. Lazily I reach up and grab book after book at random then lay them into the fire. With another book in my hand I am about to crowd it against the others, but my eyes are caught by the silver cursive lettering on the dark front cover. “The Tale of The Mare of the Snow” it reads. I stare at it with interest as it brings back sour memories of Candle Light’s Mother sharing her thoughts on how the winter reminds her of a fairy tale her Mother used to read to her. I wonder if this could be the story she was talking about. I bring it away from the fire and closer to my curious eyes. The book feels ancient like it hasn’t been touched in years. I open the front cover as the book’s spine bends and creaks. My eyes glide over the aged paper reading the first words: “Chapter One: Love at First Sight.” Love? What is that? Skipping over my confusion of the word I press on with reading.

Once, during a cold and rainy night, a lonely mare was forced into the nearest café during her evening walk. Her brick red mane layed like a wet mop over her eyes, and her white dress was soaked. Her lightly gray coat glistened under the lights hanging from the ceiling. She loved to walk or trot through Bloom Park, a wonderful little place where lilies grew and fillies played. She happened to walk into the middle of a game of tag a few young fillies were playing in the center of the park around the fountain. A stone statue of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna were spouting water through their mouths and into the hexagonal pool. The mare would always stop by this fountain and stare into the glimmering water, but the floor also glistened as shiny bits lay at the bottom. Sometimes she would toss a bit into the water, and as the ripples formed she would make a wish. Soon she would give up on trying again for she knew that such magic doesn’t and will never exist. She felt her wishing was in vain, and what was it she was wishing for? She wished only for a heart to join hers, to find that special somepony she had dreamed of finding. She felt silly for ever making such a wish, felt it pointless to even dream anymore. Despite her constant hammering of this idea into her mind she felt drawn to try again. She felt it relieves her from the stress and loneliness in a way she can’t explain.

The young fillies stopped their game immediately at the sight of her. She was struck with anxiety and froze in place as they stared at her.

“Oh don’t mind me, I’m just passing by.” She finally uttered after a short silence.

“It’s okay Miss!” One says.

“Say, are you busy?” Another asks.

“Me? Well I . . . No, I suppose not.” She says awkwardly.

“We could use another player! Would you like to play with us?” One asks excitedly.

“Why that’s very sweet of you to ask—”

“So will you?” One asks cutting her sentence off.

“Oh well you see I don’t think that—”

“You’re it!”

“Catch us if you can!” Another shouts as they all scamper away behind the hedges that fence the park like a maze.

“Wait! I . . . !”

She knew that she couldn’t just let these kids hide and not play along. She saw no harm in it, so she sighed and decided to go on and find them. The mare trotted and searched, and one by one she would find each little filly tagging them gently as they ‘awed’ with disappointment once they were tagged. She had found two, but the last one seemed elusive. Finally she caught up to the filly and chased her through what seemed like the entire park. The mare tagged her and sat down from exhaustion. All the fillies gathered around her giggling and bouncing with so much energy.

“That was fun!”

“Again again!”

“No I . . . I really should get going now.” The mare says still recovering her breath.

“Awe!” They all whine in unison.

“You girls really shouldn’t just talk to random strangers anyway.” The mare explained.

“Well, what’s your name Miss?”

“Meriva, why?”

“Hello Meriva! My name is Cotton Blossom! This is Peach Drops and Periwinkle!” The little filly says happily while introducing the other two.

“. . . Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Now that we’re not strangers anymore . . . wanna play?!” She asks excitedly holding her little hooves up to her cheeks.

Meriva looked at all three of them as they gleamed at her with their big shiny eyes and tiny smiles. She chuckled, and found the first ray of happiness she’s felt in a long time.

“. . . Okay, but just one more game.”

“Two more!” One shouts.

“Okay, fine.”

“Three more!”

“Maybe.” Meriva says with a chuckle.

Meriva, now getting back to her hooves, tries to get herself ready for the next round.

“Run!” One of the fillies shouts before they all disperse.

Meriva played a few more rounds of tag with them until she completely wore out. They spent all that time laughing and adorably accusing one or the other for being tagged. As she said her goodbyes she knew that the kids had a fun time and wished it could’ve lasted longer, but the clouds up above had other plans. They were gathering like a jigsaw puzzle fitting perfectly into place and turning to a heavy gray color rumbling in the sky. Her home was a bit of a walk away, and she knew that a storm was about to brew knowing her luck. Before she knew it on her way home the rain began to pour down. It was early fall and the cold rain mixed with heavy winds blew dead leaves and drops of the cold hard rain against her face. The streets were empty; she was getting drenched as her dress became heavier as it collected the rain. She couldn’t take it anymore, so she ran into Giano’s Café. She knew the owner Giano, he’s a kind stallion and she would consider him a good friend. She knew he wouldn’t have a problem with her staying in there until the storm blew over so she hurried inside. At the sound of a bell jingling upon opening the door to the café Meriva is instantly noticed and greeted by the shop’s Giano, a relatively middle-aged stallion with a pale coat, black mane and mustache below his snout, and white apron drying a cup with a dish rag.

“Ah Meriva! What were you doing out in the rain?” He asks concerned from behind the counter.

“I was just on my way home; then this storm started.” She says dripping with rain.

“Well come in! Come in! Just take a seat and let me get you a towel to dry off eh?”

Meriva takes a seat on the rubber sheeted stool and parts her mane out of her eyes. Good old Giano, always such a kind fellow. In her hoof she held the shiny golden bit she had planned to toss into the fountain, and with the dark atmosphere of the outside and evil pounding of the rain she slid it back into her little handbag. She almost didn’t even want to see it again.

“Ah, here you go Meriva.” Says Giano wrapping the big white towel around her before returning behind the counter.

“So, where were you before you decided to head home?” Giano asks curiously.

“. . . Nowhere.”

“Meriva, I can tell something is bothering you.”

Giano was always very good at telling when Meriva was upset. It didn’t matter how big or how small the matter was, he just always sort of knew. Even though he was an earth pony just like Meriva he had this magical sense about him.

“I just . . .”

“Oh Meriva, don’t start crying now.”

“I’m not.” She says trying to hide her sadness. “Why would I cry over something so silly?”

“It’s not silly. We’ve talked about this time and time again. Don’t you remember what I said?”

“. . . Yes.”

“You’ll find the right pony someday, or . . . ?” Giano waits for Meriva to finish the sentence.

“He just may find me.” Meriva says with a smile beginning to peak.

“Right! Meriva you’ve got your whole life ahead of you! Just because you haven’t found him now doesn’t mean you won’t ‘ever’ find him. Meriva, there’s something you have to understand.”

“And what’s that?”

“A wish is like a promise. Once you make one you should never, under any circumstances, go back on it. As long as you hold it in your heart it will surely shine through someday, you just have to give it time.”

“You’re right, as always. Thanks Giano.” She says with an entire smile.

“Hey, that’s what friends are for. Now, would you like a warm cup of coffee?”

“No thanks Giano.”

“Oh come on, it’s on me!”

No matter how many times she tells him no he still persists on making her that cup. As he grabs a clean glass cup from the rack the jingling of the bell rings behind them. A stallion enters with a hat over his short black mane dripping with rain from the edge of the brim, and an unbuttoned jacket around his body revealing his dark gray coat leaving its own trail of water behind as he takes a seat at the counter. One away from Meriva. Giano turns and greets the stallion.

“Welcome! A beautiful night out isn’t it?”

“Yep, it sure is.” He chuckles.

“What’ll ya have?”

“Uhh one cup, dark please.”

“Comin’ right up.”

Giano fills one cup with cream and sugar and lets the coffee machine pour its warm steamy liquid into the cup. He fills another with just the coffee and brings the two cups to the counter. He slides Meriva her cup, and then the stallion’s.

“That’ll be one bit sir.”

“Sure, umm . . .” He begins to then search his pockets then sighs out of frustration. “Ugh, I left my wallet at my cottage.”

“You know what, don’t worry about it. Just take it.” Says Giano sympathetically.

“No, that’s okay. I don’t want you to think I’m lying just to get a free cup.”

“Here.” Says Meriva handing over the bit she had in her bag to the stallion.

“Oh, but miss I couldn’t I—”

“No, just take it. I want you to have it.”

“. . . Thank you.” He finally says after his stunned silence.

He hands over the bit to Giano and thanks him for the payment. Giano takes one glance at Meriva, then at the stallion, and he can feel that this just might be the moment. With his unknown sense he could feel that it was about time he left them alone, but not without an attempt at starting a conversation.

“So, sir, I haven’t seen you around town. Are you new here?”

“Oh, yes I just moved in this morning.”

“Well then welcome! I hope you like it here.”

“Oh I do, it is quite nice—”

“Ah! I just remembered I have to go to the back and clean up the spill from earlier. I’ll be back as soon as I’m finished.” Giano says interrupting the stallion’s attempt to continue the conversation.

He gives Meriva a subtle wink as he moves into the back of the store. Meriva begins to shudder and tries to secretly beckon him back, but he just smiles and leaves. Leaving Meriva all alone with the stallion, as he sips his coffee feeling confused about how abruptly Giano just left, and feeling an anxiety she hasn’t felt in a long time. She glances at him and tries to force herself to utter just a friendly hello, but her voice cannot muster it. Finally, she takes a deep breath and tries her best to sound natural.

“So, you like it here?”

“Hm? Oh yes, it’s such a nice little town. Everypony is quite friendly. . .” A silence then fills the room as Meriva is left with nothing further to say. “Um, thank you.”

“What?”

“Thank you, for paying for my drink. That was very kind of you.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.”

“. . . My name is Dawston by the way.”

“I-It’s nice to meet you, my name’s Meriva.” She says shyly.

“Meriva?” He asks.

Meriva squirms in her chair at the sound of the repeat of her name. To her it sounds like he is about to criticize her name, and she prepares for it expecting the worst.

“That’s a nice name, a beautiful name.” He says.

“R-Really?”

At this moment they both raise their heads and finally make eye contact. As soon as their vision meets each other they are glued. Without a single blink it’s as if tape were keeping their eye lids open, and a padlock keeping their eyes on each other. They don’t know it, but a spark has just ignited within both their hearts, and from here it will grow into a much stronger fire. Giano was right, he was always right.

Chapter two starts on the next page. I feel so immersed in this story for some strange reason, and I just want to keep reading. This really must be the story that Candle Light’s Mother was talking about! During the time I had been reading a snowstorm seems to have started outside as the winds blow against the tree. Just as I am about to read the next words a sound breaks the steady silence that filled the room: the sound of something brushing against the cold icy floor. Startled I shut the book and set it down beside me as I scan the room anticipating it to happen again. My eyes catch something jerk near the dying fire. The pony’s hind leg twitches sending a burst of energy through me as I inspect her body. By now all the frost has melted away. I turn her body over so that I can clearly see her face. She’s coming through; she’s coming through she just has to!

“Come on wake up . . . wake up.” I whisper.

Then, her eyes begin to slowly open, and a violent coughing fit follows thereafter. I don’t believe it, she’s really awake! I feel so ecstatic I could just jump around the whole room. I try to hold her head straight with my hands on both her cheeks to have her focus on me. Her eyes struggle to open wider, but her breathing begins to calm to a somewhat steady rhythm. I thought that I would’ve had something to say instead of staring at her in silence. I guess, if I were to be honest with myself, I didn’t really expect her eyes to actually open.

“W-What . . . what happened . . . ?” She whispers. “Where am I?”

“Don’t worry, you’re awake now.” I say trying to keep my breath under control from excitement.

At the sound of my voice she then opens her eyes completely and stares at me curiously.

“It’s . . . But how . . . ?” She utters.

“What? What’s the matter?” I ask intriguingly.

“Where . . . ? I-Is this a dream?”

“N-No, it’s not.”

“Spike? . . . Spike where are you? Where are you?!” She begins to shout and squirm.

“Relax okay, stay calm.” I say in a vain attempt to get her to keep still and quiet down.

“My friends . . . Where are they—where are my friends?”

“I-I-I don’t know.”

“I need to find them, I need . . .” The pony tries to stand, but her weak limbs give out instantly.

Her voice sounds so drowsy and her movements are as if her body was completely made out of rubber. Every attempt she makes to stand and hurry to the door only sends her crumbling back down. I watch her hopelessly continue to try not knowing what I should do. She falls once more, and I can hear her beginning to whine. The thought that she may have gotten hurt sends me after her. Gradually her movements settle as she continues to have another coughing fit. And, looking up at me once again, her eyes are beginning to fill with tears.

“W-What’s wrong? Does something hurt?” I ask anxiously.

She touches my arms with her hooves as if to be sure that I am even real. As they make contact with the cloth encasing my arms she pulls back out of fear and cringes. With her irregular breathing and trembling body she scans around the room as terror imprints itself upon her eyes.

“No . . . No th-this can’t be.”  She says, but I just remain silent and let her soak in the world for a moment. “This can’t be happening.” She says fearfully.

Again she tries to stand herself up, but this time she just barely spaces her hooves in such a way that enables her to keep herself up. She then begins to take uneven steps towards the door. Surprised at how she hasn’t yet fallen she continues down the stairs sending a burst of energy though me to catch up to her. She stumbles down the stairs and then makes her way to the front door as I watch her from atop the stairway.

“Where are you going?!” I call, but she does not even turn back to me.

She pushes open the front door letting in the harsh winds, and after a long look around the landscape she walks into the snow.

“Hey! Wait!” I yell. “Where are you going?!”

I need to follow her, but I should gather my things together before I do. After a sigh of frustration I hurry back into the room with a quick heart and pick up the still translucent stone so nervous that I almost drop it. I yank my bag off my shoulder and speedily drop the stone inside. As I turn back ready to go down the stairs I remember, the book! Back in the room I pick up the book and place it in my bag as well careful not to crush the flower inside. Also, just to be safe, I take the box of matches and place it in my bag as well. I tighten the rope and hoist it over my shoulder running down the steps. The intense cold halts me before the door as I try to spot her outside. It is snowing heavily, and the pony’s hoof tracks continue on into the clouds of snow and darkness. I hold my hand over my eyes and squint to strain my eyes and see if I can maybe spot her, but with all the snow and with how dark it is I can barely see anything. I brace myself for the cold as I cannot just let her stay out there all alone. What if something were to happen to her? She can barely walk and these winds could push her down into the snow to freeze her once again if I don’t act now. She's the first face I've seen in a while, and I'm not going to let her put herself in danger like this. I take a few breaths and throw myself into the storm holding my collar over my mouth as high as possible to block the cold snowflakes and wind. I keep my face down to hide from the cold, and to follow her tracks.