“We should reach the Dawnlands today.” Willowlake greeted both Chance and Fox with this inpromptu announcement as she stretched. Her blue and green eyes flickered in concern as she turned to Fox, who was rolling in the grass with a lofty yarn. “How long did you stay awake, Fox? You look tired.”
Chance was glad she asked Fox and not him. His head pounded from last night, and his blue eyes burned for the lack of sleep. It had been a restless night after Sunrise’s visit, and he was beginning to wonder if he had just dreamed it all. He drank deeply from the spring, avoiding eye contact with anyone.
“I’m not.” Fox said, getting up to shake dirt from his coat. “I only need three hours of sleep per day, unlike you two. I’ve just been puzzling something since very early this morning.” He looked over at Chance. “Were you talking to someone? I saw you walk across the field and start speaking, but there was no one there.”
Chance’s head jerked up from the stream, coughing on the water. So it hadn’t been a dream. Sunrise was actually there on the mountainside.
But if he told Fox he’d been having a conversation with his dead mate, he and Willowlake would probably think he was insane.
He stood there for several minutes, trying to think of a good response.
“I was probably sleepwalking.” He said, keeping his voice as nonchalant as possible. “I sometimes do that when I’m… stressed.”
“Okay…” Fox flipped his tail over his flank. “I guess that’s… interesting.”
He’s just a Land Horse. A cowardly colt afraid of his own shadow. I don’t care what he thinks. He glared at the colt until the bay pinto meekly lowered his head to graze.
Chance changed the subject, turning to Willowlake. “How much longer do you think we have to travel to get to the other side of this mountain?”
She paused, thinking. “I followed the river there last night and it only took me an hour. On foot, I’d say we’d reach the ice by afternoon.”
“Ice?” Fox’s head whipped up from the dandelion he’d been chewing. “Oh please don’t tell me it’s going to get colder.”
“It is the Northlands after all.” Chance snorted. Really, did the Land Horse have to be so dim?
“If we walk fast we won’t freeze.” Willowlake said, lifting her chin. “Come on.”
And without another word, their journey had begun again.
The sun was behind them for most of the day, lighting their way as they began scaling the mountain again. It was harder work than yesterday, as most of the vegetation faded to rocks. Fox, familiar with rocks from living in Canyon Band, led the way, much to Chance’s irritation.
“Now you just have to be careful about your footing.” He was saying as they neared the top of the peak, a very vertical area of rock. “Just watch where you set your hooves– on nice solid rock, not gravel– and listen to your gut.” Like a goat, he scrambled to the stop and tossed his black mane in the wind, the sun turning his hide orange. “Come on, now.”
Chance held back a snort of irritation. If it was just him, he would fly all the way to the end of the Dawnlands, but even though he disliked Fox, he couldn’t leave Willowlake behind. Fox wouldn’t be stallion enough to protect her if danger came and the dwarfed mare wouldn’t be able to protect herself.
What makes Willowlake any different than Snowfire?
He clenched his jaw, slipping on the rocks. The voice was almost like Sunrise’s, like the burning anger he’d heard from her the night before.
It just is. He shoved the thoughts aside as he put all of his energy into climbing.
All the same, he heard his own voice in his head, taunting him.
Coward, coward, coward.
With an angry shout and a flap of his massive black wings, Chance managed to scramble to the top, for a minute too breathless to think about anything. Then he inhaled a deep breath of wonder at the view around him, suddenly realizing that he had made it to the climax of the mountains.
Below him, on his right, there was the peach-colored sands of the Land Horse territory. Blue-red mountains painted the distance, and if he turned slightly, he could see almost to the black Rock Tribe Mountains. Spots of green in different colors splashed the landscape– his home with it.
If he squinted hard enough, could he see pegasi there?
Willowlake climbed up beside him, breathless. “It’s stunning!” She turned and looked behind them. “Oh, the Dawnlands!”
Chance turned, facing the place he had fought so hard to get to. It was a land of glittering white and pale blue. In the distance Chance saw an enourmous blue-gray glacier. Dark green and gray trees stood stark against the light-reflecting landscape.
“It’s cold.” Fox whined, teeth chattering.
Chance ignored him, listening to the sounds around him. So different from home. So peaceful. It seemed pretty quiet…
“Take that you brute!” The scream came from somewhere below, full of anger and alarm.
An equine scream.
“Did anyone else hear that?” Fox asked, eyes wide.
Chance looked down to the valley far below and gulped when he saw faint red streaks in the snow. The wind changed course and he smelled something hot and metallic.
Blood.
“Chance…” Willowlake pointed out a group of dark gray wolves attacking two blurry figures, equine in shape, but moving so fast it was hard to tell what they were exactly. The creatures had wings, and they were beating the wolfs with every inch of strength they had.
Chance didn’t wait for the others to figure out how to get down. He spread his wings and dived down to the ground, gathering speed until tears streamed from his eyes
He focused on the nearest wolf and struck, killing it in an instant. He landed and snatched another in his jaws, whipping it quickly to break its back.
One of the wolves yelped as two hooves kicked it out of the circle. “You don’t mess with us!” A female voice with an accent shouted. The wolf ran past Chance, limping and yelping until it fell over into the snow and didn’t get up.
“Hello?!” Chance shouted, trying to find who exactly he needed to help.
The beasts scattered to reveal two alicorns fighting the wolves. One, a stallion by his large and heavily muscled size, was white with black spots scattered over his coat and a dark silver-gray mane and tail. His horn was a glittering silver and his wings the same spotted color as his coat. The other, smaller than the spotted stallion yet still taller than Chance, was a golden palomino mare with a white mane and tail and golden feathers. She looked up at him. “Look out!”
Chance whirled around to kick an oncoming wolf into oblivion. Fox and Willowlake had somehow already made it down from the mountain and began attacking the wolves themselves. Fox, unusually brave at the moment, sent a wolf careening into the sky with one well aimed kick, and Willowlake rammed another wolf in the side with her horn, still sharp despite its length.
Occasionally Chance glanced over at the Alicorns just to marvel at their skill. A fighting Alicorn was truly a magnificent thing to see, and a rare one too, considering they were a peaceful group. He noticed that Alicorns, like fighting Unicorns, rear up and come down to attack their enemies, spearing and pummeling them with their horns, wings, hooves, and teeth. Not to mention they were also the largest of all of the Tribes, Clans, and Bands— these two were probably twenty three and nineteen hands, respectively. It intimidated Chance a little.
In a few minutes there were twelve dead wolves in the snow and five panting equines.
The palomino mare tossed her thick mane out of her eyes, along with the spotted black and white feather braided into it. “Thank you for your help, strangers.” Her voice was musically accented, somewhat similar to the Water Clan’s accents, but lighter and more graceful. “I am Goldstream, daughter of Ravenflame and Clawbranch.”
“I’m Thornbrook, her mate, son of Roselight and Bearstrike.” The stallion rumbled, stepping forward. Chance’s feathers rattled slightly at the nearness of the huge Alicorn, a good seven hands higher than him.
“I’m Chance, and this is Willowlake and Fox.” Chance nickered, finding his manners. “I didn’t know the Alicorn Council traveled through the Dawnlands.”
“We often come here during times when we can’t traverse into other lands.” Thornbrook explained. “But unfortunately, we were separated from the Council during our migration south. There was a blizzard, and we lost our way. We’ve waited a week for our herd to come back…” He dropped off, something like shame in his eyes. Chance could understand. A stallion not only getting himself separated, but also his mare, was an embarrassment.
“But I’m beginning to believe that trying to find them would be futile.” Goldstream interjected. “They couldn’t risk traveling over the mountains twice with as many mares with foal as we have this year.”
“I’m sorry.” Willowlake murmured. “I can’t imagine how awful that must feel.”
“It’s all right.” Thornbrook stiffened his neck. “When they come through here again we’ll rejoin, but going over the mountains at this moment… would be too dangerous.”
“Can’t you fly?” Fox asked, confused.
Chance coughed and looked over at him. “Asking why flight isn’t possible is considered rude.” He wouldn’t scold the colt for such a misdemeanor. He had no wings to be proud of.
“Oh.” Fox’s dropped his ears and tail, looking sheepish. “Sorry.”
“Why are a Pegasus, a Land Horse, and a Unicorn traveling together?” Goldstream asked, changing the subject. “Your kind don’t usually graze in the same fields.”
“It’s a long story.” Chance mumbled.
“We’re trying to get to the Dawnlands for various reasons.” Willowlake said, giving Chance a sharp glance from the corner of her eye. “Is it all just… ice?”
Goldstream shook her head. “You see that blue glacier on the horizon?”
Willowlake nodded.
“Past that there is a green field. Lush grass and good weather. It’s a rich place, one that too many would take advantage of, so the Alicorns have kept it secret.” She twitched her tail. “I suppose we’ll have to stay there until the Council comes back.”
“You can travel with us.” Willowlake said. “It would be safer than going separately.”
“Do you mind?” Thornbrook asked.
“Not at all.” Chance
“In that case, we would love to join you.” Thornbrook said. “And we can take you to the Field. I’m not sure how much longer it will be until the Council will migrate up there. It’s getting close to the Time you know.”
There was a certain tone in his voice when he said Time that sent shivers down Chance’s spine. He cocked his head and gazed at the spotted stallion. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
Thornbrook blinked. “Oh. I’ve forgotten that you pegasi do not study the Writings as we do.” He nodded his head. “Are you familiar with the Blood and Snow prophecy?”
Chance felt as if his blood had turned to ice. Fox and Willowlake shook their heads.
“It’s quite a mystery, actually.” Goldstream said, a shiver of excitement in her voice. “It goes a little like this…”
“When a filly of blood,
And a filly of snow,
Stand at the center of Equinox stones;
Justice will come,
Wrongs made right,
And the White lion will arrive,
Like a thief in the night.”
Willowlake and Fox stared at Goldstream the entire time as she quoted the prophecy, seeming enthralled. Chance felt sick.
My daughter, the Filly of Snow.
“There is more to the prophecy, of course.” Thornbrook said. “About the Great Battle to Come and such, after the King’s return. Our Elders have been observing and recording the things that must happen before the Fillies come to pave the way and many of them believe the fillies are to be born—or have already been born—this year.”
“What sort of fillies are they?” Fox asked. “I mean… what species?”
“At least one of them is a Pegasus.” Goldstream said. “The Elders know that much.”
“There are two others, the Colts of Destruction, that have already been born. A black and a pale gray.” Thornbrook shivered. “But we won’t have to worry about them for another year or two.”
“I never knew there was so many prophecies.” Willowlake said. “My father forbade the Sacred Writings in our Clan.”
“Most of the Clan chiefs do.” Thornbrook said with sympathy in his voice. “They tend to dislike the Writings because it often goes against what they believe themselves. Do you believe in the King?”
“I’ve… heard about him.” Fox said. “My mother sang songs about him when I was a small colt.”
“I was never told much except by my nursemare. She told me a great many things about our pasts and legends.” Willowlake flicked her tail. “She was an Alicorn, captured. My father put her to death after I told him about the stories. I’m sorry I did.”
“I think I know whom you speak of.” Goldstream said. “A strawberry roan, with peach feathers and a white spot the shape of a pine tree on her forehead?”
Willowlake nodded. “Her name was Scarletmist.”
“Yes. She was a Scout, daughter of our History-Keeper Starburst. She was looking for her colt, as he had wandered too far from the camp, and was instead captured by Water Clan Patrols. I expect they found her colt first and put him to death.” Goldstream sighed. “I am sorry that she did not survive, but I am glad she taught you.”
“She was a wonderful mare.” Willowlake said softly.
“I know you’re reminiscin’ at the moment.” Fox said, teeth chattering. “But I’m getting colder by the minute standin’ in the snow, and I’d rather not have my hooves freeze off. Should we start movin’ towards that glacier?”
“There’s an easier way.” Thornbrook said. “I’ll lead and show you; we just came from there.”
Chance nodded and once again, the group began moving. Willowlake and Goldstream chatted as if they had known each other forever. It was interesting to see the two of them together—while Willowlake was tiny from her dwarfism and couldn’t have been much more than thirteen hands, Goldstream’s eighteen hands and muscled frame made the unicorn princess seem even smaller. Silver mare and gold mare walked next to each other, unaware of the drastic difference in size.
Occasionally, Thornbrook glanced behind him to look at Goldstream. There was a burning love in his eyes, a love that Chance felt still burning inside of him as he thought of Sunrise. Thornbrook and Goldstream were so much like him and Sunrise—early in their matrimony, love stronger than anything in the world, a new future on the horizon. They had been left behind by their herd, but they still had each other, and for them, it was enough.
There was something else in Thornbrook’s gaze too. Worry. But not just any kind of worry. It was a worry Chance recognized, one that he’d carried for the past ten months. Of course, it was rude to ask a mare outright if they were with foal. But he could tell by the looks that Thornbrook gave to Goldstream, followed by the most playful and tenderhearted of glares before she went back to her conversations with Willowlake.
It was the secret language that all mates had between each other. A language that could be perceived by knowing individuals, but never quite decoded.
He missed doing the same with Sunrise.
He glanced at his withers. There was a small streak of pink where her feather had peeked out of his tangled black mane. He’d hidden it to avoid questions.
If he hadn’t run away, he would have had three of her feathers in his mane, openly mourning her death for a week before he took off two of them and buried them on top of her grave in the Acceptance Ceremony, as was custom for pegasi. It was a symbol of moving on, of healing.
Instead, he was running away. There was no mourning. No pitying gazes. No comfort. He didn’t like the pity.
He also didn’t like this feeling of being alone.
He shook his head and focused on following Thornbrook. If he stopped now he was going to break down, and that was the last thing he wanted to happen.
One thing was for sure—he could never stop mourning Sunrise’s death. It would always be the shadow that never left.