Heeey there, readers! I'm posting this for a friend, a good friend and a good man who loves horses. This is his wildly imaginative and insanely creative story that follows Noisome Mist, a unique pony with a story that spans generations. If you like this story (and it's subsequent chapters) please leave your feedback. I'll make sure my pal gets those. He loves feedback as much as I do!

Part 1. A decision

For such a long time, long enough for her to lose track, she wandered the desolate canyon lands. The only company she had was the occasional rock goat and long eared rabbits. She has set her mind to leaving, that was the plan. She just has to have one last look at the rock wall in the cave. On it are drawn creatures that look like her, drawn all together in a group. They look happy and playful, tails streaming and manes flying. This is the only place she has ever seen them, never met a real one. Rock goats, long eared rabbits and hardy desert plants are all she knows.

Running down the canyon that leads to the cave, the warm reds and oranges of the surrounding rocks are a familiar sight. Just outside the cave she slows and enters at a walk. The earth tones of the rocks fades to black the further in she goes. She feels herself firm up and become solid. It's dark enough in here for that. Her misty white body takes on its bluish hue and her charcoal grey mane and tail darken up. The horizontal striping on the lower parts of all four legs, the long hairs under her jaw and down her neck and her face mask are all of the same charcoal grey, and darkened as well. She always liked her mask, starting at her nose and going around each eye ending under each ear. It sets her eyes off.

Now those slightly luminous ice blue eyes marvel at the creatures drawn running across the back wall of the cave. The scene is illuminated by a single shaft of light shining through a small hole somewhere opposite it, falling only on the painting, leaving the cave otherwise dark. This place feels special and very old. In the painting the creatures all run facing in the same direction. Is it a message from long ago, or just random? It does not matter now; her mind is set. That was the way she is going. She wills herself immaterial, passes through the rock wall and up and out of the canyons, running the way the painting had pointed. Not even a look back, determined!

As she passes up out of the rock she finds herself on a flat and open plain. The sun fades her back to a misty hazy outline of her self, and she no longer has to maintain her concentration to be immaterial, the sun does that for her. In fact, now she has no choice. The more light the more she fades. Just as well, fading from solid takes a lot of energy and will, besides she loves to be solid and real. The night time or in dark enough places are the only time she can be. The sun always fades her and turns her to an immaterial misty outline of herself.

As she runs her mind works. All she is doing now is new to her. She mentally runs through her check list. " I know I'm called a pony, though I have never met another like me. I know there must be others like me, some pony made the painting in the cave. There is nothing back where I came from so I wont even think of going back."

It is these thoughts that drive her on, and on she goes.

Part 2. Forest

On the forth day the brown and grassy planes are broken by dark shapes off in the distance. " Mountains! I know of these things but I cant remember ever seeing them," she thought. "And there will be trees." Continuing on with new and unfamiliar excitement, she picks up her pace.

The setting sun finds her walking among towering trees in gently rolling foot hills. There are living things everywhere. Short eared bunnies, deer, wolves and birds, so many birds. Their singing fills the twilight with a rejoicing feel. No ponies though... "I must be getting close, this place feels like magic," she thought.

The sun finally sets and she becomes solid. A riot of new scents washes over her. The desert canyons are kind of mute when it comes to smells. Mostly dry and dusty scents, old and forgotten. Once in a while a desert flower would bloom and smell so nice, yet nothing like the scents that overwhelm her nose now. This is just great to her, another reason she likes to be solid because when she isn't she loses the ability to smell. Running from tree to shrub, from grass to flowers she delights in all the new scents. Even the dirt here smells rich and alive. Such a marvelous new experience.

She looks up to see a full moon bathing the forest in its ethereal light. A light that robs things of their color but definitely not their scents. This moon is the same as in the desert canyons, but somehow not as hard and cold feeling. " If only I knew places like this awaited me beyond the rock and sand I would have left long ago." She spoke aloud to herself, the sound of her soft and shaky voice a stranger to her own ears. "I know now that the rock painting was a message, an invitation to find them. I will."

Running with sheer joy across the forested slope she comes to a small brook. The brook cascades its way down and across flat stone shelves and fills a basin before heading further down hill. Amazed, she approaches the basin. "Water is so rare where I come from, here it flows freely and aplenty, such wonders," she says, still speaking out loud to herself. She approaches the pool, the moon reflected and twinkling off the rippled surface. She slowly wades in. It is not deep and the gravely bottom is firm and supporting. "I have never seen so much water," she speaks in whispered wonder. Standing in the middle of the pool the water just tickles the hairs of her belly. Slowly she lowers herself into it. Now lying on the bottom, she marvels at the cool current running around and over her back, tickling each and every hair. "I have had water on me before, but never had water all around and over me. I like this." Each time she speaks, her soft and airy voice becomes a little less shaky. "I just know I'm going to find them. The other ponies, friends, my own kind. I won't be alone anymore."

With joyful thoughts she gets back to her feet and leaves the pool. This night is indeed magic. Heading up hill she resumes her exploration of the forest and soon discovers she no longer likes being wet. The desert had dried her off quickly on the rare occasion rain came at night, but here she is still sopping wet quite a while after leaving the pool. "Ha," she thought and concentrated, willing herself immaterial. She can feel the drag and drain of this effort. She fades out. For an instant the wet and glistening shape of a mare stands before collapsing with a splash to the ground. She takes a few steps forward before releasing her concentration, returning to solid. "Nothing that's not me goes with me when fading out. Good way to dry off, but tiring."

Looking up hill through the trees she can just see an opening, a clearing where the moon shines brighter. "I'll get to the top of this hill and sleep the rest of the night," she said, enjoying the company her voice gives her. The excitement and new experiences have worn her down. "What a night this has been. I can't wait to see the mountains and forest in the daylight." Her voice now has a soft and airy quality. Gone is the shakiness of disuse. She even finds the sound of her voice somehow comforting. She wonders why she hasn't voiced her thoughts aloud more often.

Part 3. A friend

Nearing the top of the hill she freezes. There in the moonlight is a form, lying in a clearing. A large form, larger than her. It has the body and tail of a lion, great folded wings, and the head of an eagle. Its forelegs end in the talons of an eagle. She feels fear tingling at her, she does not know what this creature is. Caught in indecision she wavers. "Do I run or approach?" she says, still thinking out loud.

"You may approach. I will not harm you." the creature tells her.

Thinking out loud has just helped. Now she knows what she should do. "Ok, but what are you? I don't know your kind."

"I am a gryphon, strange little pony. You should know that. Come join me, I was just wishing for some company." The gryphon says, spreading one wing in welcome.

She approaches, noticing this gryphon looks very old and battered. "Why did you call me strange?" she asked, approaching him. He still has a wing extended in welcome.

"Because you are way out here. No pony comes this far south. Also because you don't know my kind. All the other ponies know of the gryphons."

Her ears snap forward and her eyes brighten. "Other ponies! There are other ponies! For real?" She asks breathlessly.

"Come now, of course there are. Did you just crawl out from under a rock?" the gryphon asks, a strange tiredness in his voice.

"Um...Maybe." she says, thinking of the desert canyons.

"Here come lie beside me so I don't have to speak so loud, and my wing is getting tired." She notices he still has it raised in welcome.

She approaches and lies down beside him. Lowering his wing, he gently covered her with it. "My name is Simon and I am pleased to have your company. But where do you come from?"

"From that way" she says, looking back down the hill. She can't remember ever talking with another creature, and now she is not only talking with one but being comforted by one. She likes this very much.

"You are very trusting of strangers. You are strange, in a charming way, a young pony alone in the wilderness. Do you have a name?" The gryphon asks, sounding pleased and yet also somehow worn down.

"I...I don't think so." She stammers. "I have been all alone since I can remember. You are the first creature I have spoken with. There were paintings on the wall of a cave in the desert canyons. It showed ponies like me running in this direction, so I finally decided to leave and find them. I've been so alone and I would like to make friends."

"So odd," Simon says, "but fate is just. I think you will find a name, mist colored pony. And if it is friends you seek, Ponyville is where you want to go. Keep going north, the way that puts the rising sun on your right shoulder. You will find it past a dark and foreboding forest."

"Mist," The pony says. "I like that. Call me Mist. I am Mist! And Simon, you are my first friend."

"Ok then. I will call you Mist. I want you to know and remember something, Mist, whatever happens know that I'm so happy and honored to call you my friend and to be spending these moments with you. You are a wish come true for me." He sounded even more worn down and tired as time went on.

In the darkness and unseen by Mist a single tear rolls down the cheek of an old and battered gryphon. Not a tear of sorrow but one of joy. Joy that he is not alone in his final moments. That a strange and gentle pony has appeared and is now keeping him company. Joy that he was able to provide her some comfort, a name and some direction to find her own kind. It was the only reward he has to give.

"Mist," Simon says, "I must rest now, tomorrow go and find your new friends."

"Thank you for being my first friend Simon, and for being so nice to me," she tells him.

Mist closes her eyes and enjoys the warm comfort provided by Simon's sheltering wing. The last thoughts she has as she drifts off to sleep are of how happy she is to have made a friend, how incredible this night has been. She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh of contentment.

Dawn finds Mist still asleep under Simon's wing, warm cozy and lost in a nagging dream. In this dream she is back in the desert canyon, hungry and annoyed that the plants that she found at night are for the most part bitter and unpalatable to eat. The ones that do taste ok have spikes and thorns to keep her at bay. Hungry and irritated she watches the sky brighten. As the sun rises she feels her solid form fade away. "Great now I'll be hungry all day." she thinks while looking at a big tasty cactus just bristling with thorns. "Ha, you can't poke me now. I cant eat you either, but you cant poke me." Her thoughts continue as she walks toward it and put her head right in to it. Passing through things during the day feels like walking through a spider web, a slight resistance that easily gives way.

Now she's just standing with her head in it. She notices a strange and pleasant tingling feeling where her head and the cactus overlap. She walks forward, now the tingling is where the cactus overlaps her body. She stays like this and notices her hunger is fading away, and also the cactus is starting to wilt. She stays that way until she is no longer hungry and feels quite good. Her irritation is dispelled with the hunger. Stepping out of the cactus, she feels renewed, while the cactus looks limp and wilted. "I see now how I can make use of these desert plants. That tingle, I'm drawing life from them while I'm not solid and overlapping them." Her dream memory starts to fade. The sleeping mare begins to stir, one fragment of her dream drifting lazily around her waking mind. "I draw life from them" - "not solid" - " draw life...not solid."

Mists conscious mind is awakening. She becomes slowly aware of a familiar tingle but also accompanied with a warm energy. This new feeling is even more pleasant. Her thoughts drift back to how happy she was to have made a friend, Simon the gryphon, who had covered her gently through the night with his wing. Her first friend who had helped her and given her a name. In an instant she is fully awake. The sun shines brightly, Simon's wing passed through her immaterial body at a slight angle.

Part 4. Sorrow

"NO!" she screams in horror, shooting up to her hooves, her misty body not even disturbing a single feather of Simons wing. "No, no it cant be. That only happens with plants." Mist stands by Simon's lifeless body in inconsolable panic and sorrow. She can feel newfound energy and strength in herself, and it horrifies and sickens her knowing its source. "I'm a monster. I have drawn life from the first friend I made!" she cried, shedding tears as weightless as the thoughts of a snowflake. "Simon I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I thought I only drew life from plants." She has never felt such sorrow. How could she make friends with the ponies now? She is dangerous. A monster. "I did not do this on purpose, I did not know this could happen..." she mumbles through sobs. "I just didn't want to be alone anymore. I just wanted to have friends."

Mist, now on the verge of an emotional meltdown paces and prances in place. "I'm a monster, a life draining monster. Is that why I was alone? Did the other ponies leave the desert canyons in fear of me? No that cant be, the ponies in the cave painting looked happy. That cant be it." she argues with herself and her conflicting emotions.

She does not realize Simon was old and dying when she found him. That she made him so happy in his final moments because he would not pass alone. Also that the little life she had drawn from him would have ben freely given to her. Her sorrow and guilt are eating away at her reasoning. "How can I have friends? Who would be friends with somepony who could draw their life from them?

She finally stops her panic dance and sits facing Simon. She draws a long, deep breath and calms a little. Ethereal tears still flowing she recalls Simon's last words in her mind. "I'm so happy and honored to call you my friend," and "You are a wish come true for me," and the last words he said, "Go and find your new friends."

Wracked with a fresh wave of sorrow more tears flow as she speaks to Simon's lifeless form. "I'm so sorry, Simon. I will keep the name you gave me, but I must always remember what I did to you, so I will add one word. Noisome." She pauses feeling like she might panic again. The feeling passes, and she regains some composure. Speaking to Simons lifeless form she says, "I will honor your last words. I will go to Ponyville. Noisome Mist will go to ponyville." She looks up and to the north, the sun warming her right cheek. "I may not be able to have them as friends. I don't want to harm any pony or draw their life from them, but I don't want to be alone anymore, so I will watch unseen, at least I will be near them. At night while they sleep maybe I can find a way to be of some help to them. I just can't let them get close."

She gets up and slowly turns to face north, the sun warming her right shoulder. The happiness and joy she had felt last night was now gone, fallen out of her shattered heart and leaving an empty ache. "I will always remember you Simon, always."

So a sad and broken hearted Noisome Mist leaves the lifeless form of the first friend she ever made. Continuing her journey north, borne on by the last of Simons life and a now shattered heart. As she slowly walks down the hill heading north she can't see the spot by Simon where she sat crying shedding ethereal tears. A spot now rapidly and vigorously growing vibrant grass and flowers.


(cue Noisome Mist's Song)

My past I don't remember, my future looks so grim. I've wandered looking for my kind and now that I've found them. I find that I'm a danger and must remain apart, what is this feeling in my chest-it must be my breaking heart.
(Ok, its just fate. I wont succumb to hate. Something changed me long ago, but inside I feel the same. I've left the desert in my past and wont return again. Now my wanderings found an end. I must find a way to fit in.)
I realize a broken heart is a hard thing to mend again. So day will find me shaded in mist but always watching them. The night time brings me normal, I'll quietly put things right. They may never know the mare who silently works at night. I'll work for them and be unknown, shadowy and discreet. For the friendship that's fated for me must be a one way street.
(Ok, its just fate. I wont succumb to hate. Something changed me long ago, But inside I feel the same. I've left the desert in my past and wont return again. Now my wanderings found an end. I must find a way to fit in.)
Maybe someday I'll be found and things might turn around. My broken heart might mend again with the hope that's held it bound. Until that day comes to pass Ill do my best and dream, That somewhere in this lovely land there is still hope for me.
(Ok, its just fate. I wont succumb to hate. Something changed me long ago, but inside I feel the same. I've left the desert in my past and wont return again. Now my wanderings found an end I must find a way to fit in.) End.

Lyrics by me. stan
Inspired by the melody of Now and Then A song by Blackmore's Night off their album Under a Violet Moon.