A Snowpitt Vignette


                                            >Pine Ponder puts another cone at the center of the pretty ornamental rug.

                                            >She brings her nose closer to it and sniffs.

                                            >It smells like rozin, like pine needles, like the ground it was collected from.

                                            >It's as if in the tiny oval shell, behind the rugged scale-like segments there was a whole forest.

                                            >A forest that will be, or, perhaps, the one that would have been.

                                            >She cocks her head, bends her neck looking at the cone from several angles.

                                            >Every cone is different.  Every cone is fascinating in its own way.

                                            >The size, the form, the pattern of its scales.

                                            >Every of them tells the tale of the tree that bore it. It tells about the branch it was attached to.

                                            >How much light from the sky it got, how fertile was the soil under the tree, how much of the molten snow the tree likes to drink, how nutritious is the soil under it...

                                            >How hungry other cones around are.

                                            >Pine Ponder shifts her ears, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

                                            "O, pine cone, tell me your secrets."

                                            >She thinks.

                                            >And the cone is eager to provide, forest spirits are gracious toward Ponder.

                                            >In an instant the cone bursts open, tossing its small nutlets around.

                                            >Now it becomes puffy and round, looking like a miniature fir, despite hailing from a pine.

                                            >Pine Ponder nuzzles the cone and smiles.

                                            "Thank you."

                                            >She whispers and carefully takes the cone in her mouth, relocating it onto the pile nearby.

                                            >It's full of other cones that already have told their story. Now they will be decorating the village, will make a lot of snowfoals happy, giving them their own tiny things to ponder.

                                            >Pine Ponder raises every of the four corners of the rug, one after another, to collect together the hoard of pine nuts from all the cones, lying around on it.

                                            >The hoard is sizable. Pine Ponder wraps it up with the rug.

                                            >The nuts will make plenty of tasty sauce to spice the dishes at the communal dinners.

                                            >Pine Ponder looks around and sees Puffins.

                                            >The petite mare is working near the drying rack.

                                            >She takes cut and salted fishes from a basket and lays them out on the rack.

                                            >As always she wears her foal satchel over her back.

                                            >Pine Ponder takes the prettiest cone from the pile and walks towards Puffins. The snow creaks under her hooves.

                                            >Puffins raises her head from the rack.

                                            >"Oh, hi, Pine!"

                                            >Pine Ponder bobs her head in a greeting, the pine cone in her mouth prevents her from talking.

                                            >She walks to Puffins' side, where her foal satchel is. Little Totem resides in it, tired of running around.

                                            >Pine Ponder lowers her head and nuzzles the foal. The little filly nickers happily. Pine Ponder gives her the cone. Totem clutches it between her tiny front hooves and stares, fascinated.

                                            >"Good cone, huh? Aunty Ponder knows her cones." Puffins comments to her foal.

                                            >"You got the cones sorted already?"

                                            >She then asks Pine Ponder.

                                            "Uh-huh"

                                            >Pine Ponder nods.

                                            >"Ok, I'm almost done with the fish too."

                                            >Pine Ponder watches Puffins loading the rack to the full. Then the mare cleans her muzzle against the snow.

                                            >"Tea?", she asks.

                                            "Yep", Pine Ponder nods.

                                            >Both mares go to the communal fire. Several other mares are also there. They are drinking tea and dining, chatting happily, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the kinship.

                                            >Pine Ponder and Puffins exchange greetings with the population around the hearth. They lay nearby, flank to flank.

                                            >Pine Ponder brings out her tea pouch. She takes one of the ceramic mugs, surrounding the hearth, opens the pouch and puts a couple of pinches from it into the mug.

                                            >Above the fire there is a pot of molten snow, slowly simmering.

                                            >Pine Ponder tilts it and pours into her mug.

                                            >Puffins sniffs the air and her ears stand up.

                                            >"Hey, what is it? Smells new!"

                                            "Mixed a new blend recently." Pine Ponder answers, "Want to try some?"

                                            >"You bet!"

                                            >Pine Ponder makes a mug of tea for her friend as well.

                                            >They wait some time to let it both brew and cool a bit and then begin to sip.

                                            >"Mmmmmmm, tasty. What is in there?"

                                            "Some berries, some nuts, some berry leaves."

                                            >Pine Ponder answers between sips.

                                            >Other mares ask for a cup as well, offering their tea in exchange. Pine Ponder eagerly shares her pouch.

                                            >Most of the blends in the village are made by her anyway.

                                            >Then they all drink in silence for some time.

                                            >Little Totem, warmed up in his comfy satchel, settles for a nap.

                                            >"I love how you always come with new stuff to drink", Puffins whispers, to not disturb her foal.

                                            >Pine Ponder smiles.

                                            "Pine cones tell me."

                                            >And so, another quiet day in the village of Snowpitt goes on.