Chapter Text
A flurry of biting wind surged down the mountain, prompting Tempest Shadow to reach up and keep her knitted cap secure. The cold tried its best to invade her scarf, but luckily the wind eased, leaving only snowflakes to gently assail her. They fluttered down from gray clouds in a thick, silent shower.
There was only the crunch of Tempest’s steel-toed hooves as she continued on her way. The unicorn’s ears swiveled but couldn’t catch anything noteworthy. That suited her just fine. If there was one thing Tempest found she quite adored about this cold, unforgiving place, it was the quiet. Snow muffled almost everything, imbuing the dangerous landscape with a sort of foreboding peace. Perhaps that’s why she’d chosen to linger for so long.
A paying job with steady work was good, too — even if traversing through several inches of snow every day was a hassle. Tempest tapped her forehoof against a stone jutting up from the blanket of white, noting how much of the compact ice easily slid off her steel sabaton and how her hooves didn’t feel numb yet. Glitter Drops was getting better at her anti-frost charms; Tempest made a mental note to tell her so when they reconvened for lunch. The mare responded well to positive reinforcement… Too well, in Tempest’s opinion, but she found it hard to complain about such a thing when it made guiding Glitter towards progressing in her useful spell-casting so easy.
If only Glitter Drops had a greater interest for studying new spells than babysitting troublesome, free-loading little animals. Maybe then Tempest wouldn’t be responding to a complaint all on her own.
Of course, imposed solitude wasn’t the problem. That would be…
“What took you so dang long?”
“Afternoon, Shanks.”
The old earth pony grimaced at her over his fence. “Why ain’t Glitter with you?”
Tempest slowed to a halt on the other side of the wooden structure, keeping a wary eye on the dog growling just behind its master. “Glitter is busy playing mommy for her flock of beasts today, so I’m here by myself.”
“Hmph.”
“…And how have you been, Shanks?”
Icy Shanks snorted, his graying bobtail flicking with displeasure. “I’d be fine, if there weren’t some prankster harassing me!”
“Prankster?”
“Somepony’s been sneaking onto my property and building snow creatures!”
Tempest grit her teeth in a slow, subtle rotation, resisting the urge to sneer. “You called us here to… help you deal with… snow creatures? As in sculptures? The kind little foals like to make?”
“I wanted Glitter Drops to come find and chase off whoever’s been trespassing!” With another heated snort, Icy Shanks added, “It ain’t a foal doing it, neither! I don’t care how many of ‘em there are, kids can’t make shapes in the snow like these.”
This note of intrigue stayed Tempest’s condescending hoof, which was prepared to turn her right back around and away from this joke of an assignment. “What do you mean?”
Gesturing to his wooden gate, Icy Shanks said, “If you’re the one here, then I guess you’ll do. Come along and I’ll show you.”
The dog barked as soon as Tempest invaded the boundary of the gate. The harsh sound of his aggressive barking made her fur stand on end, but Tempest would not be cowed and stared down the annoying whelp. Rolling his eyes, Icy Shanks made a sharp whistle sound that shot past his teeth, making Tempest’s ear twitch and the dog fall silent. “Go sit!” he told the animal. “Go on, porch! Now!”
Still growling, the dog did as it was told. Icy Shanks started off around the side of his cabin, leaving Tempest to follow.
Behind the structure, just beyond a modest pile of chopped firewood, were several snow sculptures. They were expertly crafted — nothing like the lumpy, vaguely pony-shaped mounds that resided in Tempest’s blurry childhood memories. They depicted several creatures: a griffon rearing back on its hind paws, wings open and talons splayed; a large sea-serpent emerging from the snow, its grinning mouth full of needle-like teeth; there was even one in the shape of an Ursa Minor, standing tall with shoulders hunched as its frozen jaw stretched wide in a silent roar.
Curled up between them all was the visage of a trembling pony. Its face was a blank white expanse, yet somehow it conveyed a feeling of terror.
Once she’d fully absorbed the scene before her, Tempest begrudgingly admitted, “This… does feel like some form of harassment.”
“See! I told you. Foals couldn’t make anything like this.”
Taking a moment to shake her mane and tail free of clinging snowflakes, Tempest’s narrowed eyes scanned the space. She didn’t see any hoofprints that weren’t presumably Shanks’ — nothing leading to the snow sculptures from any direction that wasn’t his cabin. She considered and quickly dismissed the idea of Icy Shanks doing this himself, perhaps as a means of pranking Tempest. Though there was no love lost between them (she sent a silent, sarcastic apology to Princess Cadance), Icy Shanks didn’t seem the type to waste anypony’s time with a dumb prank, least of all his own. She was certain he’d rather avoid seeing Tempest at all, not make up an excuse for her to take up his time.
Teal eyes narrowed at the snow-sculpted Ursa Minor. The only pony nearby who knew something like that might bother Tempest was Glitter Drops, but she would never… Would she? No — they were friends now. Better friends than when they were foolish little fillies. Something so underhanded and hurtful wasn’t Glitter’s style, anyway. Tempest also doubted she had the ability to craft such solid, detailed sculptures without any help; her magic was powerful, but blunt and showy, and not overly concerned with the nuances of execution.
If this really was an attempt to bother Icy Shanks specifically, why in the world would anypony go about it like this? Sure, the sculpted scene was a somewhat intimidating one, but it was just snow. Tempest frowned as she approached the looming sculptures, scrutinizing them for any other hints. They were all so well-crafted, their snowy bodies perfectly compact and smooth, as if they’d been carved into their shapes as one might with ice or stone.
“They’re disturbingly realistic,” Tempest thought aloud, ear twitching as she heard Icy Shanks draw closer. “Almost life-like.”
This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say.
The very second those words left Tempest’s mouth, something in the air changed. Icy Shanks didn’t seem to notice — he was saying something, but Tempest’s attention was now elsewhere. Electric blue began to spark along the jagged edges of her ruined horn. Her ears were pricked and her eyes were open wide, body instinctively adjusting itself as she prepared for an attack. But from where? Tempest couldn’t see, hear, or sense anypony else nearby. There was only her, Shanks, and—
The snow-serpent several feet away from her flicked a white tongue out from between its teeth.
“Shanks! Get back!”
“Huh? Hey, were you even listening to me? You city ponies, I swear! No manners, the whole lot of—”
A ferocious roar interrupted the grumpy stallion, and both ponies jumped as the snow-ursa lifted its paws up.
Across from it, the snow-griffon’s wings flapped, and it leaped into the sky with a sharp cry.
“What in the world!?” Shanks stumbled backwards in the snow, falling onto his rump as he watched the griffon circle over them. “Miss, did you magic ‘em to do that?”
“It’s not me! Get out of here already!”
Her magic was hot and biting as she gathered it up, then held it. The familiar nipping impatience of it made her crown itch, but Tempest focused instead on putting distance between herself and the snow-ursa, which was advancing. Tempest darted to the right, away from it and Icy Shanks.
The snow-serpent’s long neck dove forward, and it appeared to sink into the thick layers of snow on the ground. The rolling hills of its long body gradually disappeared.
From above, the snow-griffon cried out again. The sky, gray and overcast, wouldn’t allow Tempest to track a shadow; its unnatural flying didn’t make the same conspicuous sound of feathers buffeting the air. Teeth bared with frustration, Tempest chanced a moment to look away from the snow-ursa to check the sky above.
Immediately, she ducked, rolling through the snow and losing her cap as the sculpted griffon swooped down in an attempt to snatch her with its talons.
Before the snow-griffon could climb back into the sky, Tempest tilted her horn in its direction, leading her shot just slightly ahead of the flying figure. She inverted the restraint on her magic, allowing it to launch itself in a sharp, stinging arc. The snow-griffon couldn’t avoid the white-hot band of power and was obliterated, exploding into useless clumps of snow. They plopped wetly back to the ground.
Tempest was quick to regain proper footing and turn back to the snow-ursa. The beast was making a slow, almost cautious approach, down on all fours as it prowled towards Tempest.
Once again, she focused magic toward the base of her horn, then leaned into the familiar contradiction of restraining and stoking its hungry fervor. Wild blue flickered, singeing the air around her. With a contemptuous grin, Tempest aimed her horn and shot the magical energy as directly as she could manage.
Before the bolt could reach its target, the snow-serpent burst up from its white ocean and intercepted. Toothy maw wide open, it caught Tempest’s magic in its mouth and— ate it?
The unicorn stared, jaw hanging open with shock, as her attack was consumed by the snow creature.
The animate abomination had the gall to lick its white lips before diving for her, sharp teeth glittering. Tempest dodged backwards, body reared up, forelegs prepared to pummel the snow-serpent if it tried pursuing her.
The serpent wasn’t what she needed to worry about. The snow-ursa, taking advantage of her distraction, had veered from its original course and approached her at a new angle. Before Tempest realized it, the hulking mound of hard-packed snow rammed into her.
Caught off guard, there wasn’t much Tempest could do, and she struggled to focus her magic in an attempt to save herself from being trampled. Eyes wrenched closed, she fought to manifest a shield of some sort, something to help the kinetic energy of the charging beast bounce off of her. Her magic was unaccustomed to such a specific order; in the end, all it could manage was a thin web of aggressive, stinging magic that flowed across her body from horn to tail-tip. The pain of it made her hiss, but it seemed to be enough — the snow-ursa’s icy paws tripped over her, and the beast fell hard on the ground.
Tempest struggled to right herself, heart pounding; despite snow melting into her clothes and flakes assaulting her fluttering lashes, her body felt too hot. Worst of all, her untamed magic seemed to have interfered with the spell Glitter Drops cast on her sabatons. The heavy steel was leeching cold into itself, making her hooves sting.
The snow-ursa recovered first. It was already charging again, huge body shedding clouds of loose powder with every hulking step.
Tempest realized her body was locking up. Her horn sparked, but not with intent — it was simply magic, untamed and frenzied as fear had its way with her. Move! she ordered herself. Get up! Run! But her legs could barely make the effort, knees weak and mind going blank with humiliation and terror at sight of the stampeding ursa.
Just before the horrible creature could swing a paw at her, a brown shape charged into Tempest’s vision. It slammed against the snow creature, which bellowed as it fell onto its side. Tempest stared in shock, realizing it was Icy Shanks.
“W-what?” she gasped, staring at the older stallion, who was struggling to keep the ursa down. There was a long, dark metal instrument between his teeth — he’d driven the end of it into the beast.
Getting a hoof through the round handle of the instrument, Shanks was able to hoist himself fully onto the snow-ursa’s writhing body. Pulling his mouth away, he triumphantly cried, “A pony doesn’t spend thirty years harvesting ice without knowing a thing or two about how to handle the stubborn stuff!”
With a surprisingly powerful motion, Shanks wrenched his tool from the ursa’s body. The head of it looked almost like a shovel, but ended in four sharp points instead of a spade. With an expert movement and an angry cry, Shanks drove the end of it back into the snow-ursa, this time catching it in the neck area. The bear cried and tried to roll onto its feet, but Shanks had pierced deep enough to keep it on the ground. As Tempest finally found her wits and scrambled back onto all fours, she noticed Shanks had put on strange-looking metal shoes with large cleats. For gripping ice?
“Watch yourself, missy!”
Shanks dared spare a hoof to point somewhere over Tempest’s shoulder. Without thinking, she spun in place, releasing a furious explosion of magic. It was as agitated as she was, leaping from her broken horn like a venomous snake aiming to kill.
The snow-serpent, which had crept up behind her, was beheaded in a prismatic light-show.
Tempest panted, quickly retreating to put distance between her and the serpent, but it was still. Its body, partially “submerged” in the snow, didn’t move an inch. A curl of steam rose from the crumbling stump of its neck.
“Would you look at that?” Behind her, she heard Shanks pull his tool out of thick snow. “Thing went limp. I think it’s back to being normal old snow.” After another moment, he asked, “Miss Shadow, are you alright?”
Tempest forced herself to turn away from the inanimate pillar of snow to regard him. He’d slid off the mound that was once the ursa, now an indistinguishable mess. It made her feel better to see it so utterly ruined. Tension slowly began to ease from her. “I’m… fine.” After a beat, she added, “Thank you.”
Icy Shanks snorted, but it didn’t seem like his usual, derisive gesture. The old pony flicked his hat up and offered a wrinkly smirk. “All that jabber about you leading some army or other doesn’t seem quite so far-fetched anymore. You sure knew how to handle yourself!”
Before Tempest could respond, an unfamiliar voice from behind said, “I can’t help but agree!”
Tempest whipped around, casting another shock of magic before she even saw who spoke. A clawed yellow hand caught the bolt and held it; sparking blue flickered between long black talons.
“My, my! Fluttershy wasn’t lying — you’re certainly no slouch with that horn of yours.”
There was a… creature. It was… growing? From the empty stump of the snow-serpent’s neck. It had the head of a pony — or perhaps a goat? — with a small white beard dangling from its gray chin. A snaggletooth jutted from its mouth, which seemed all too pleased with the incredulous look on Tempest’s face, grinning as it was. From the snow-serpent’s body, two arms had sprouted: a lion’s paw and a griffon’s talon. The latter held up Tempest’s magic so the creature could inspect it with an amused look.
“Yes, you’re skilled with that peculiar horn… and this magic of mine.”
The yellow hand jerked, and Tempest watched as the creature gobbled up her magic — again.
Behind her, Tempest heard Icy Shanks say, “What the hay are you supposed to be?”
“So glad you asked!” The creature shook its body, and suddenly the serpentine sculpture was no longer snow. It shivered and crumbled apart, revealing the long form of the creature, as if it had always been beneath the snowy guise.
Standing tall upon mismatched feet, the creature grinned and wiggled its fingers at Tempest in a mocking gesture of greeting. “Name’s Discord! The pleasure is all yours.”