Let There Be Light: Sc.14&15


                                            “See, this is why I wanted to do this the long way, instead of just teleporting everywhere.”

                                            >Noire rips her gaze away from the colorful scenery – which some difficulty, judging by how her eyes longer on the environment before they meet yours – and inclines her head towards you. “Even knowing it would take months?”

                                            >You gesture to the trees around you.

                                            “Months of this? That’s a joy of it’s own.”

                                            >The Garden may always be fruiting, but in spring it still blooms; new shoots flowering off the old and ever-productive growth to create a riotous ensemble of every kind and friendly shade.

                                            >The cacophonous kaleidoscope of color is paired with a surfeit of scents, sweetnesses of a few dozen different delights nestling your nose in numerous nascent nectars.

                                            “That’s the thing about this stuff. You can know it’s there, even see a picture, hear a recording, read an account, but it’s not the same as being here.”

                                            >Noire looks back around the Garden, stepping closer against your side. “Do you think the others marvel at it as we do?”

                                            “I think appreciation for this stuff is primal. Back home, we used to note that ‘music tames the savage beast’; animals loved song. There’s things the beauty of which is transcendental."

                                            >Noire’s dark coat contrasted strongly with the surrounding greenery and bright colors of fruit and flower. The dull orange glow of her eyes, her horn’s spiral, the ripples down her wings, the sparks in her mane and tail contrasted just as much with her body as that green framing her.

                                            >She, too, was a beautiful sight here.

                                            >You wonder if it’d be possible to tell her, if that concept could make the jump through your speech as well.

                                            >Maybe after building up a vocabulary of beauty on this trip.

                                            >After all,some things she needed to experience herself, rather than just pulling the context from you.

                                            >But that meant you couldn’t just linger in one place forever!

                                            ”Let’s get some for the trip, then continue on. We got a lot of places to be. Where to next?”

                                            >Noire, of course, knew all the places you had to go, and could find her way there perfectly, so no map or compass was required.

                                            >Even still, the pack on your back wasn’t light, and her saddlebags were loaded down along with the collapsed tent on her back.

                                            >But you did still have room for a quick harvest.

                                            >Once you weigh yourselves down just a little more, the two of you strike back out, this time off the trail.

                                            >There are no other paths on the island besides the one Noire made between your home and the Garden; you two never frequented other destinations, and there hasn’t been enough time for the island’s other occupants to make any by regular use.

                                            >But she knew where those other occupants were, so at least you didn’t need to worry about getting lost.

                                            >With only some eight months of so of existence, the forest surrounding the Garden – and now extending quite a distance beyond – hasn’t suffered enough wear to become difficult to navigate.

                                            >For anything larger, your trusty maul did a good enough work at clearing a path.

                                            >Traveling through the forest, then, was almost as easy as the clear terrain outside them.

                                            >Though the experience is much different; sunlight dappling the path you walk, dead leaves not rotted under snow crunching underfoot, the sounds of birds in the trees.

                                            “Listen.”

                                            >Noire cocks her head, looking at you as she walks beside you.

                                            “It’s strange listening to nature carrying on around us when we put it there.”

                                            >”They are doing as we made them to do.”

                                            “I guess it’s a little wild that it worked out so well.”

                                            >Noire smiles. “I am glad you think that. It means I did my job as well as you did yours.”

                                            >You rub her head, what would be tousling her mane if her mane behaved at all like hair, your hand passing through her horn as you did.

                                            “I didn’t need any confirmation of that.”

                                            >”We also have other company.”

                                            >You fall silent, trying to listen for something over the din of the birds and your own footsteps.

                                            >Every once in awhile there’s a rustle of branches, but never where you can see anything.

                                            >Eventually the sounds become so distracting that you find you’ve slowed to a stop, looking upward all around just to try to identify them.

                                            >Only when you’re still does it resolve; a blur of pastel color dropping through the canopy to the ground some distance ahead of you.

                                            >A pegasus stands there now, folding her wings against her barrel, looking at you.

                                            >After a moment you realize why she looks so familiar.

                                            >It’s the mare you encountered in the fall.

                                            >When you start to move towards her, she turns around – still glancing over her shoulder – and walks in a different direction.

                                            >You shake your head and continue on your way, only for her to dart in front of you, once again turn, and walk the same way she had before.

                                            >”I believe,” Noire began slowly, “she wants us to follow her.”

                                            “To where?”

                                            >”Others of her kind reside by the coast. Perhaps she will lead us to them.”

                                            >You roll your shoulders, adjusting your backpack’s straps on them.

                                            “Well that’s what we’re here to do, isn’t it? I suppose we have our next destination.”

                                            >She’d stopped to wait for you, and seems quite pleased when you start tailing her.

                                            >She keeps a measured pace through the forest; she likely got a good feel for you and Noire’s progress as she followed you from above.

                                            >On and on through the woods you went.

                                            >Far longer than you’d expected.

                                            “You weren’t kidding about expanding the place, huh?”

                                            >”We made many creatures that needed it to live. I had to make room for them all”

                                            “I’m surprised we made so many.”

                                            >”Your home had such a wealth of animals, it only seemed right to use as many as you felt an urge to call to mind.”

                                            >The pegasus mare does not seem overly concerned with your conversation, staying far enough ahead she may not even be able to clearly make it out.

                                            >You continue keeping pace best you can, stepping over undergrowth and around shrubs. The mare was taking wing once in awhile, forcing you to shift between a fast walk and a slow jog, depending on what the terrain would allow. Guiding you, yes, but also making sure you moved quickly.

                                            >Noire trotted beside you, matching your less even pace readily, as she too could just take to wing rather than maneuver around larger or more difficult obstacles.

                                            “How long will they stay?”

                                            >”This island is only large enough for a few generations. Once they become too numerous, I will place them around the world. About that time, the enhancements I have provided them to start will have worked their way out of their physiology.”

                                            >”Enhancements?”

                                            “Resistance to malnutrition and genetic abnormality, greater fecundity and shorter gestation times, a more agreeable nature. Their first generations need to grow as smoothly as possible, to provide a healthy stock by which they may naturally progress.”

                                            “A good head start, then.”

                                            >Noire trots in silence for a few moments before continuing. “I will admit, I am not sure how well it is working out, just that it should be.”

                                            “That’s why we’re doing this.”

                                            >”Yes, it should prove educational. I am interested in seeing it firsthand.”

                                            >You look over at her, drawn by her uncertain tone.

                                            “You don’t sound excited about it.”

                                            >”I will admit I am… worried.”

                                            “Why’s that?”

                                            >”If they are doing less well than I had hoped, I will feel like I have failed them.”

                                            >You reach an arm out to wrap around her neck, pulling her against your side, forcing her to start fox-trotting.

                                            “I have a feeling you’ll be pleasantly surprised. You haven’t screwed anything up yet.”

                                            >”I cannot get complacent.”

                                            “Bah. Have some faith in your work.”

                                            >You finally release her, so the two of you can catch up to the pegasus mare, who’d pulled ahead and is by now at a point where the forest starts to thin.

                                            >All the way to the coast, huh?

                                            >Could have been faster to go directly there.

                                            >But the Garden’s sights and smells was definitely worth the visit.

                                            >If it made the day’s trip longer, so be it.


                                            * * *


                                            >The pegasi had made their homes on a section of coastal cliffs that looked out to where some islands lay a short distance off-shore.

                                            >A squall is blowing in from that direction, which has forced you and Noire to shelter in a cave in said cliff’s face, accessible by dropping down a short distance.

                                            >Noire, obviously, could just fly, but you had to carefully navigate down the cliffside with what handholds and footholds you could locate.

                                            >You slipped a couple times, but never fell.

                                            >Your workouts splitting and hauling wood have been doing you a lot of good.

                                            >Besides, if you did fall, Noire was below you.

                                            >You could have just asked her to move you.

                                            >But being able to do it yourself felt extremely satisfying.

                                            >From this sheltered position, the squall didn’t intimidate you much.

                                            >Something about it fascinated you, in fact.

                                            >Not the storm itself, but what was harnessing it.

                                            “But why were they out there to begin with?”

                                            >”They live on the islands, I believe,” Noire responds with an amused tone.

                                            >A smile appeared on her face as soon as the two of you had gotten situated, and hasn’t yet left.

                                            “That’s quite a flight.”

                                            >”That is likely why they return this way; conserving energy.”

                                            >Noire had enhanced your vision temporarily, enough to make out what had so amused her, and fascinated you now.

                                            “They can ride storms?”

                                            >”Clouds in general. They can walk on them, bury themselves in them, interact in all sorts of ways. You wished for every sapient species to have a niche, a special magic. This is theirs; they can interact with moisture and water vapor in the air.”

                                            “That would explain why they took up a home on islands.”

                                            >Six pegasi rode on top of the foremost of the dark stormclouds just reaching the shore.

                                            >Several of them were napping, as if the rumbling front beneath them was a gentle breeze.

                                            >The mare who led you here hadn’t flown out to meet them, instead alighting on a more placid cloud above, then dragging it much higher, above the impending violence.

                                            >How she ascended so fast with it you have no idea.

                                            >Probably more of their magic.

                                            >She did seem very insistent on you staying, so you supposed she wanted you to meet her friends.

                                            >If seven, now, she’d put in work over the winter.

                                            >You wonder how many other pegasi are out there.

                                            >As is usually the case, the storm does not last very long, passing over in a few minutes and dissipating as it moved further inland.

                                            >Just as you poke your head out to look skyward, seven pegasi descend onto the small platform of stone outside the cave, four of them still looking groggy, including the couple you recognize from the fall.

                                            >The mare you’re most familiar with has some sort whispy, ethereal cargo.

                                            >She places it on the stone floor in front of you, upright.

                                            >When she backs away, you can get a better idea what it is.

                                            >A crude imitation of a tree branch, made from mist.

                                            >Your mind goes back to the offering she made, the second time you saw her.

                                            >No trees out here for a repeat performance.

                                            >So she’d simply made one of her own.

                                            >You look at Noire, then point at the ghostly branch with a grin.

                                            >Then, with a chuckle, shrug off your pack and sit on the stone.

                                            >Noire follows you, assuming that position you associate more with dogs than horses, head cocked and neck extended to try to get an idea what you’re doing as you fish inside your bag.

                                            >You pull out one of your fruit, a lemon, then hold it out to the mare.

                                            >She blinks a few times, then walks forward haltingly, only a couple steps at a time.

                                            >When she gets to you she cranes her head forward, sniffing at your hand.

                                            >Then she gingerly bites down on the fruit, soft enough she doesn’t break the rind, then pulls it from your hand not with her neck, but by walking backwards away from you.

                                            >The gesture is so timid from the mare Noire had noted as courageous you can’t help but laugh again.

                                            >You fish around for another fruit and hold it out, waving it at another of the pegasi.

                                            >Emboldened by their friend’s first foray, the pegasus cautiously accepts the fruit as well.

                                            >You hand one out to each in turn, and while some are content to munch them down now, others stash their gifts along one wall.

                                            >The misty branch by now has melted away into the air, but you’re happy your little offerings were well-received.

                                            >You go to get back up, but…

                                            >Oof.

                                            >Even this short period of rest has your legs complaining about being put back to use.

                                            “Hey Noire?”

                                            >She looks over to you, and hums a wordless inquisitve reply

                                            “Think we can stay here the night?”

                                            >She grins. “I cannot think of any better way to connect with our creations than to sleep beside them.”

                                            >Looking at her, your mind flashes an image of her body as she is now, but against that contrasting background of the Garden, accentuating her beauty.

                                            >You give her a weaker grin in return.

                                            “As long as I have you all to myself.”

                                            >She laughs. “I would not want it any other way.”