She would remain, unlike her carrots. They were likely to be eaten or disappear in the first frost. It was an unfortunate reality. Unlike them, she was a survivor.
Carrot farming was a task for the patient, the farmer, the one who toiled the land earnestly and with care. Or it was a task for the retired. Either one worked well enough. Or both.
Carrot Top sat on the porch of her meager farmhouse. It was a small thing, homely and made of sturdy wood. There was a cluster of flowers out front that swayed in the morning breeze. Little flowerpots filled with the cheery little things covered her porch, gifts from a friend.
The sun was shining, warming her pale goldenrod coat and carrot-orange mane. It was poofy as always, and she fought against its constant attempt to swirl down in front of her eyes. There was not a cloud in sight on this warm and beautiful day. It soothed Carrot Top's soul to see it.
Sunshine was the best part of days like this. It was the opposite of what those tortured memories and old scars whispered to her. A life of pain, a life of secrecy, a life of survival. Even now she could hear those old, hidden wounds whispering to her. Telling her to stop pretending, to stop acting like she hadn't done anything wrong. Well, she was the one who was alive, not those scars.
Those ponies tried to get her to go to a hospital. For what, old scars? Her brain wasn't damaged. She was perfectly stable, thank you.
She ignored them of course. What could old wounds say about the new her?
Carrot Top put on a cheery smile and walked out into her carrot patch. The soil was soft and spongy on her hooves, a clear sign of health. With a sigh of content, Carrot Top kneeled next to one of the carrots. It was the picture of health and bounty.
Her carrots were vibrant as the sun above, their stems a rich green and the little bit of root poking up from the ground was a deep orange. They would be ready for harvest soon, and she couldn't wait to sell them at the market.
There was one carrot in particular that she was excited about. It was a massive carrot, easily the size of a pony. Grown through earth-pony magic and tender care, it had grown to a monstrous size. It was to be her entry to the garden faire. She puffed up a little as she saw it. It was going to win for sure.
She stared at the carrot, her emerald eyes taking on a darker hue. A distant memory came back to her. She was buried up to her neck in mud, choking on water trying to fill her lungs. Her body was cold as a shard of ice, numb to the touch. Shouts swirled around her as she struggled to free herself, her hooves digging away dirt as she tried to pull herself free. Somepony was screaming in her ears over the rush of swamp water, buried right next to her.
"You are going to leave us behind!?"
Then as quick as the memory surfaced, it was gone. A bright and cheery smile sprang across her face. Oh well, those days were done! No more of that for her!
Taking one last look at her harvest and the vibrant cheery world around her, Carrot Top started walking back to her house. Maybe she would make carrot cake today to celebrate. There were plenty of carrots in the garden, she could spare to indulge in a few!
Carrot Top gently grabbed the stem of a carrot with her teeth and began to tug.
Something screeched directly in her face, an infernal high-pitched sound as if in agony that pierced her ears.
She jumped backwards, scrambling over her own hooves. Her heart thundered in her chest at the shock. She must have grabbed a small animal without noticing.
"Who's there?" Carrot Top asked. "Is that you again, Angel bunny? You can't keep stealing my carrots!"
There was no answer.
That little rabbit was probably rooting around in her carrot patch again. She loved the thing as much as anypony else but recently his carrot stealing was getting out of hoof. With a displeased huff she walked forward, looking between the rows of carrots.
"Come out, Angel. Maybe I'll give you a carrot if you play nice!" Carrot Top said.
She sighed when he didn't appear. Sometimes it was hard being so nice. Creatures felt comfortable playing around with you.
There was no use in chasing after the little rabbit. He would always escape her without fail. It was simply impossible to catch a rabbit before he ran into a nearby burrow. So, she decided to sit back on her porch and watch the morning. The shock of the scream killed her appetite. She couldn't place it, but the sound felt almost familiar...
As she sat down on a sturdy wooden rocking chair, she closed her eyes and relished in the feeling of being alive. The feeling of peace and serenity. Such a feeling used to be a rarity.
Then, it suddenly went dark.
Carrot Top's eyes snapped open. Instead of the morning sun, the moon was out now, cloaking the land in night. Stars twinkled in the sky, showering the land in beams of ethereal light. Bright and powerful moonlight aided its fruitful task of illuminating the land.
She stared for a moment, the warmth quickly fading from her coat. Were Luna and Celestia fighting again?
Then, the moon rapidly sunk below the horizon, making way for the sun. For a moment, Carrot Top thought that maybe there was just a mistake in the management of the celestial bodies. That was disproven when the moon and sun seemed to chase each other in the sky. Night and day passed in seconds, then halted and started spinning the other way. In the distance, Carrot Top saw something floating over the ridge.
"Is that the Ponyville town hall?" Carrot Top watched the familiar building float over the ridge her farm was behind. It was far away, but it was unmistakable.
She remained in her rocking chair, just staring at the chaos. Carrot Top wasn't really sure what to think in that moment. Panic would probably be acceptable.
Then, one of her carrots started to wiggle. It pulled tiny orange arms free from its sides and grabbed at the loamy dirt. It started to dig itself up, shoveling away the soil directly around it. Carrot Top watched, not really comprehending what was happening.
The carrot pulled itself free of the earth with one last surge of effort. It stood on two orange legs. And then, it turned around. It had grown a mouth and eyes. Its eyes were pearly little black soulless beads that pierced straight through her soul. It started to smile with that strange lipless mouth of its, revealing wicked root-like teeth that came to sharp ends. Its little arms had much the same sharp root-like growths.
Carrot Top gaped, her mind trying to reason why a carrot was standing up.
It let out an infernal screech and started to charge towards her. Its little claws reached towards her, and its teeth snapped like a hungry Timberwolf.
Carrot Top shrieked as the thing ran at her. It leapt onto her hoof and latched on before she could react. Pain sparked in her hoof as its wicked teeth bit deeply into the tender flesh.
She kicked it as hard as she could with her other hoof, shock and adrenaline fueling the movement. The carrot was flung through the air, hitting the ground with a roll. It didn't get back up. She backed away, breathing heavily, and looked at her hoof. Where the thing had bit, beads of blood started to pool through.
"My carrot just tried to kill me!" Carrot Top screamed.
The sight of the blood slowed her breath. No. Not anymore of it. Not again. She shook her head, trying to get the flashing images out of her head. That life was over.
She looked back up, her nerves starting to calm just a bit.
Her carrot patch was wiggling now. Each carrot grew little arms and started to pull themselves free. Their wicked impish grins and beady eyes emerged from the earth. It was every single one of her carrots, every single one was staring at her. Their teeth gnashed, eager for a taste of blood, of revenge.
Carrot Top took a step back.
The first of the carrots pulled themselves free, snickering and hollering. With a scream, they charged.
Carrot Top ripped the door open to her house then slammed it behind her. She locked it shut, her mind and blood racing. What was happening right now? Why were her carrots trying to kill her?
The door shook, and tiny orange hands reached from underneath the small gap in the bottom. They scraped the floorboards, leaving deep grooves in the wood. Carrot Top grabbed a nearby dresser and threw it in front of the door. It came down with a crash, blocking the door shut.
"This isn't happening." Carrot Top said to herself.
She galloped down the hall, hooves pounding on the floorboards. Outside she could hear their screaming, and their cries for blood.
Carrot Top skid into the kitchen. She rummaged through the drawers and withdrew a blocky sharp knife. The sight of it stayed her hoof for a moment. It felt familiar, too familiar. She could hear distant chanting in the back of her mind. Sets of lifeless eyes, the decaying scent of the swamp, the screams of comrades as they tried to rip themselves free of poisoned earth. And emotion. Emotion leaving her body.
She dropped the knife, and it clattered to the floor. She panted, breathing heavily through her dry mouth.
Something knocked at the window. A carrot was standing there, slamming on the window with its root-like hands. Another joined it, then another, and another. Soon there was a mountain of the living carrots piling up at the window. They slammed on it, and a single webbed crack appeared. A wave of teeth scraped at the glass with unnerving screeches.
Carrot Top scrambled for safety as a wave of shattered glass and carrots exploded into the kitchen. She ran, the screeching fiends clawing at her back hooves.
She smacked into a dresser as she ran in panic, causing it to topple over behind her. A few carrots shrieked as they were crushed beneath it, their little hands reaching out for an escape from the confines. The tide swept over them uncaringly, focused on only one, malevolent goal.
Panic driving her every movement, Carrot Top took a turn down the hallway hard. Her hooves slipped beneath her, and the world spun into a blur. She hit the floor rolling, then slammed into the wall so hard all the breath was knocked out of her. Gasping and wheezing in pain, she forced herself to her shaky hooves and kept running.
She reached the open door to her bedroom, and slammed it shut behind her. Without wasting a breath, she ran behind her bed, and pushed it forward with all her strength. The wooden legs of the bed skid over the floorboards until it crashed into the door, blocking it.
Carrot Top took a moment to catch her breath. There were no windows in her bedroom, a decision based on old paranoia. She was gladder than ever now that she insisted on no windows in her bedroom.
With nowhere else to go, she sat on her flank. She could hear them just beyond the door, snickering and screeching. Then, they went oddly silent. It happened so fast that Carrot Top was sure they must have vanished into thin air.
Maybe this was all a delusion. Maybe the ponies at the hospital were right. Was her brain really damaged? None of this made any sense, none of this made sense at all.
A paper slid underneath the door. On it, written in orange and in jagged crooked letters, was a single phrase.
"YOU KILLED US. YOU DESERVE THIS."
Carrot Top reeled away from the paper. They were carrots. They were carrots. This was all in her head, this wasn't real. She was hallucinating! That was it! This was all just some intricate delusion she was conjuring up in her own head. It had to be. Otherwise, how did she recognize that hoofwriting? The hoofwriting of her comrades?
The sound of thundering footsteps came from down the hall. They were slow and methodical, but each one rattled the floorboards.
Oh, how could she have forgotten about her prized carrot?
A root-fist slammed through the wooden door, sending shards of timber bursting into the room in a cloud of shrapnel. Through the gap, a massive beady black eye stared, looking into her soul. It chuckled, loud booming laughs echoing through the house. The carrot was massive, taking up the entire hallway. Then it grabbed the door with a heavy hand and began to rip it apart.
Carrot Top screamed, falling over herself to the back of the room. It was going to get in, her prize carrot was going to try and kill her.
There was no way out of this room. No way to safety.
Her gaze traveled to one of the wooden walls. On it hung a simple tapestry of a bucket of carrots.
No. She wouldn't do it again. She couldn't. That life was over.
A fist slammed against her door. The massive teeth of the prize carrot crunched through the wood like it was stale bread. The sound of cracking and splintering wood filled the room.
Carrot Top shut her eyes, shaking her head. Never. Never. Never.
When she opened her eyes again, they locked onto her hoof. The small droplets of blood stained the pale golden fur around it. Her breath stilled, and an emptiness hollowed out her chest. The bright red was a reminder, a strangely beautiful reminder of who she really was.
This was a matter of survival. Every situation, Carrot Top had survived. The monsters of the Everfree, the dragons of the Dragonlands, the slopes and wild slayers of the cold north. And... and the changelings of the swamp. That day, she had survived, and the others...
Carrot Top stood and walked towards the tapestry. The sounds of chewing and crashing and screeching faded to a dull blur in the background. She came to the tapestry, then ripped it off without another thought. Behind it, a panel was revealed.
She pushed on the wooden panel, and it sunk into the wall. Then, she moved it to the side. Its rusty hinges creaked, having not been moved in years. What was revealed was something she had vowed never to see again.
Hanging on the wall, was a sword. It had a long handle made of smooth oak. At the end of it, a sharp solid sword blade sat, promising malintent. Along the flat of the blade were carvings of ivy weaving in and out of each other with grace. The hilt had a depiction of a single carrot pointing down towards the pommel.
Carrot Top stared at the blade, feeling as if she was anywhere but there. That pony she was never did die, did she? She survived, she always survived. And she would never be buried.
She grabbed the blade in her mouth and pulled it from the wall. With a deft, practiced movement, she flipped it over.
"Agent Golden Harvest... ready to serve." The words felt like nails in her coffin. But they were true, and wasn't truth what mattered?
The door shattered behind her, and a wave of carrots came charging in. Their laughs and screeches felt familiar, and for a moment, she saw the hollow forms of changelings racing towards her.
Golden Harvest dove to the side as the wave charged at her, old instincts guiding her movements. She slashed as she did, bisecting three in one fatal swoop.
She wove between the grasping claws and jaws, hooves beating against the floorboards in an almost rhythmic dance of steel. Her blade flashed and stung like a viper, hooves and mouth guiding its revolving arc. The tide swarmed her, but she was the horde-breaker, and they fell to her onslaught.
Infernal screeching intensified as slices of carrot went flying across the floor. Her hooves stomped their bodies into mush when they tried to get underneath her in a frenzy. Carrot juice soaked her, splattering against her coat and mane.
The prize carrot approached, snarling and roaring. It raised a fist towards her and threw it with all its weight.
With a single step to the side, Golden Harvest let the blow fly past her. She stepped into the carrot's guard and sliced upward. It dug deep, scoring a leaking wound that made the carrot roar in agony. It reeled back, only for another swing to slice off its arm.
She jumped away from another tide of the little carrots, ignoring the ones that scored jagged wounds into her hooves. Her body felt nothing more than muted pain, for she was not its inhabitant.
Entranced with the combat, Golden Harvest found herself back in that swamp. The changelings were swarming towards her, their hollow black bodies like pieces of driftwood. Ruby red blood soaked their wicked fangs, thin and sharp like the ends of a root.
Behind them were the heads of carrots sticking out of the mud, staring towards her lifelessly. Drained of all emotion. She had to get away.
Her blade danced with fervor, dicing them to pieces as they surged down on her. Black ichor went flying with each practiced swing. Her heart thundered in her chest, telling her to survive, to live. The operation was botched, they were dead, all she needed to do was get out. To live. To survive. They were already buried.
Ducking and weaving and dodging, Golden Harvest fought. She fought until she could barely see beyond the sheen of black ichor covering her.
When the last changeling fell, she found herself standing alone in a pile of unrecognizable bits and pieces. She stared down at her weapon, which shook in her grasp. It clattered to the ground, and Golden Harvest found herself back in her bedroom.
Sliced carrots covered the entirety of the room. It was an absolute vegetable massacre. It was the rotted vegetation of the swamp, the twisting roots that reached towards her, the changelings that ran them down. And... it was the heads that stuck out of the mud, their expressions growing ever unfeeling as all emotion left them.
She fell to the ground and hid her face in the crook of her hooves. It never seemed to end. It would never end. Why was this happening to her? She just wanted to live; it was all she wanted to do. Who could blame her for wanting to live? Who could blame her for survival?
With a tortured scream, Golden Harvest ran from the room and out into the field. Away from the carrots. Away. Just away.
From the roof of the house, a pair of amber eyes watched her leave. A snake-like tail swirled, and it hummed in pleasure. It grinned and smiled, popped a piece of popcorn into its mouth, and then, it left without a word. Its job was finished, and it did quite enjoy the show.
What remained was a discarded sword, and hoofprints leading away from the mush of carrots.
As always, she remained.
And the carrots did not.