![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
At Last, Civilization
Sep. 26th, 2015 10:51 pmDay 14. We have exhausted our supply of alfalfa-oat-nut-honey power cubes. Fortunately, several of our new expedition party members are equipped for long treks and we have been pooling our resources. Some of it is really old, yellow, dry and brittle after being encased in Winter's ice for so many years. We eat it anyway and talk about all the things we miss. Above all else we miss the smells.
The air is warmer now and we've shed some of our deep-cold garb. It makes talking easier as we walk, but we have to conserve our strength and walk single file, taking turns breaking trail in the snow.
Over lunch we remembered things we miss. Apples, grass, fresh hay, growing things, birds singing... living things. Pinkie: "and cupcakes!". Applejack: "Especially apples." Me: "I'm so tired of beet pulp soup and hay crackers, I'd be happy to eat anything else." Rainbow Dash: "Even cheese quesadillas?" Me: "Maybe even that." (shudder)
Then Leaf Hairrakesson spoke up. Our caribou companion has a knack for finding edible forage under the snow! It wasn't grass, but the woody twigs and buds I ate helped settle my stomach. How do these plants manage, in the cold, the weak sunlight and with nopony to tend them? Applejack is even more dumbfounded than I am.
Over supper Moondancer wanted to know more about the quesadilla story so we told her about Pinkie's Party Planning Cave. Everypony was impressed.
Leaf's tender twigs and buds and grey-white balls of lichen made our yellowed pot-luck stew tastier but it's still lacking in nutrition. I just want to sleep.
Day 15. Early this morning our caribou companion left us, a little later than originally planned, but he can feel the pull of the herds, somewhere to the west. At lunch break we boiled something old, grey and brittle until it was soft enough to chew, washing it down with fur-leaf tea, a parting gift from the caribou. Time to get back up and marching. So tired of marching. We are in Yakyakistan and we should see civilization by this evening. Our guide seems to grow more cheerful with each step. A successful rescue expedition is a perfect rescue expedition. Chalk one up for good yak/pony cross-cultural relations.
We bid farewell to our yak guide. We had a kind of parade through the streets of Yakyakistan. I'd forgotten that the other yak explorers got home days before we arrived. They've made quite the sensation, being back from the dead and having stories to tell. Prince Rutherford has insisted we stay the night in his guest rooms. We're so tired I don't think we made great conversationalists. Fortunately, we weren't really expected to make speeches. Yak hay beds really are soft and comfortable.
The air is warmer now and we've shed some of our deep-cold garb. It makes talking easier as we walk, but we have to conserve our strength and walk single file, taking turns breaking trail in the snow.
Over lunch we remembered things we miss. Apples, grass, fresh hay, growing things, birds singing... living things. Pinkie: "and cupcakes!". Applejack: "Especially apples." Me: "I'm so tired of beet pulp soup and hay crackers, I'd be happy to eat anything else." Rainbow Dash: "Even cheese quesadillas?" Me: "Maybe even that." (shudder)
Then Leaf Hairrakesson spoke up. Our caribou companion has a knack for finding edible forage under the snow! It wasn't grass, but the woody twigs and buds I ate helped settle my stomach. How do these plants manage, in the cold, the weak sunlight and with nopony to tend them? Applejack is even more dumbfounded than I am.
Over supper Moondancer wanted to know more about the quesadilla story so we told her about Pinkie's Party Planning Cave. Everypony was impressed.
Leaf's tender twigs and buds and grey-white balls of lichen made our yellowed pot-luck stew tastier but it's still lacking in nutrition. I just want to sleep.
Day 15. Early this morning our caribou companion left us, a little later than originally planned, but he can feel the pull of the herds, somewhere to the west. At lunch break we boiled something old, grey and brittle until it was soft enough to chew, washing it down with fur-leaf tea, a parting gift from the caribou. Time to get back up and marching. So tired of marching. We are in Yakyakistan and we should see civilization by this evening. Our guide seems to grow more cheerful with each step. A successful rescue expedition is a perfect rescue expedition. Chalk one up for good yak/pony cross-cultural relations.
We bid farewell to our yak guide. We had a kind of parade through the streets of Yakyakistan. I'd forgotten that the other yak explorers got home days before we arrived. They've made quite the sensation, being back from the dead and having stories to tell. Prince Rutherford has insisted we stay the night in his guest rooms. We're so tired I don't think we made great conversationalists. Fortunately, we weren't really expected to make speeches. Yak hay beds really are soft and comfortable.
