Anon:
>estrus in the spring
>foals born in summer
>adults are the only ones to have seen winter
>children are regaled with and terrified by tales of howling wind, snow, ice, short days, and long nights
>Anon is a being of legend that has not only seen countless winters, but also comes from a land where weather cannot be controlled

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"There are stories about The Giant. How, years and years before even my grandmother was born, he would take on a wife."
>You are Elderlypone, and you are regaling your granddaughters with tales of days gone by.
>Your favourite one was about Anonymous.
>AKA the nice colt who lives three houses down from you.
>It's a little awkward him being somewhat of a legend while he's still alive, but you manage.
"His wife would provide for him, and in exchange he would make sure that his enormous house was warm and full of food for her to eat after a long day of labour."
>This wasn't true; it really was more of a 50-50 split of the chores and the work. 
>But you have to make it romantic for the colts these days, and Celestia knows that your little grand-fillies will tattle if you don't tell the same story to them as you do to their brothers.
"Everypony was happy. But even though the mare would devote her life to The Giant, he was cursed to outlive her. As the years went by, he would be stuck in perpetual mourning. He began taking on wives less and less."
>That's also a lie.
>He really only had like two wives, and it didn't take him long to realize that it really sucked when your loved ones are guaranteed to die before you would.
>You continue to bullshit your way through your story about Anon and hope to LUNA that they don't go and pester the poor colt about how accurate your stories are.
>"Where did The Giant come from, Grand-mother?"
>....did your son-in-law tell your little bundles of pride and joy about the pegasi and the parasprites?
>You sure hope so.
"They say he stepped out of a terrible snow storm in the dead of winter. He-"
>"Wh-a snow storm?!"
>Oh, that's right; they aren't old enough to have seen winter yet.
>[spoiler]Oh, my sweet summer child.[/spoiler]
"Yes. It was a cold night; colder than you can imagine. Little beads of powdery frozen water covered everything, three feet deep. Most ponies couldn't open their doors, let alone go outside. All they could do was sit in the dark and listen to the howling winds and the sounds of the snow buffeting their houses and hope that their supply of firewood would last 'til morning."
>The fillies sitting in front of you shake either in fear or at the phantom chill they're imagining.
"And even though nopony could see further than thirty feet in any direction, EVERYPONY who was peering fearfully outside could see The Giant. An enormous, dark shape in the otherwise blinding white that covered them all like a thick fog. He strode through the snow as though it were nothing, and deep trenches were left behind him. Those, too, were filled up within the hour by the unrelenting storm."
>You tighten the blanket around your frail frame, remembering those long, winter nights.
"He was enormous. Bundled up in layers and layers of thick cloth and hide-"
>"He was hiding, Grandmother?"
>Oh, Cuddle Wings.
>So young; so innocent.
"No, Cuddles. Hide. The Giant had bundles of thick skin of a dead animal draped over his broad withers to keep out the cold."
>Your grand-fillies are looking rather green, but you don't blame them. Even after all these years, you STILL feel a shiver go down your spine at the sight of Anonymous and his leather jacket.
>You hope to Celestia that these fillies don't see Anonymous in his full winter's garb just yet.
>Fillies need to be tough, not traumatized.
"That is why some thought he was a monster when he walked into town. Fur on his back and cloth covering his entire body; goggles over his eyes and a scarf obscuring his pointed canine teeth; walking upright like some kind of demon from Tartarus. But that was until he found a little colt stuck in the snow, unconscious and nearly frozen to death."
>Your grand-fillies gasp in horror, not yet knowing the horrors that winter can unleash.
"He tucked the colt inside of his many layers of clothes and walked through the unrelenting snowdrifts and pounded on the door of the nearest house, begging and shouting for help."
>This is probably your favourite part of the story.
"And can you guess who answered the door, foals?"
>Of course they can't; foals are dumb as shit.
"Cuddle Wings."
>"Y-yes, grand-mother?"
"No, the mare who answered the door; her name was Cuddle Wings."
>The filly in front of you whose name she shared gapes at you.
"That's right, little one. Your many-times-great-grandmother was the first pony that The Giant met, and was the first to propose to him months later."
>Cuddle Wings' pre-pubescent chest-tuft puffs out with pride.
>Oh, the arrogance of youth. She'll be bragging to all the little colts in years to come about her heritage.
"She left a journal, you know. She said that she was shocked at how... small the Giant was when he took off his clothes. He looked much less monstrous and much more beautiful. When your grandmother saw how gorgeous this mysterious stallion was, she knew that she was in love. She spent weeks and weeks courting The Giant."
>Here comes your FAVOURITE-favourite part of the story.
"She eventually fell pregnant and gave birth to a filly named Peachy Glory, and rumours quickly spread that The Giant was the father."
>You drag your tongue across your pointed canines, lips tightly shut behind a smug smile.
"But nopony knows for sure after all these years."