//------------------------------// // Chapter 15 // Story: Whatever Way the Wind Takes You // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// From the journal of Gloomy August— With the return of my friends came a little peace of mind. I know, I know, it seems like I hardly even knew them, but it is how we met that makes a difference. Princess Cadance says there is some kind of mind-science stuff that I don’t understand. During times of trouble, like having adventures, individual ponies instinctually band together to form emergency herds. It happens in the guard and it happens with ponies who just so happen to bump into one another and then face life and death together. Or just travel on the road in the hostile wilderness. All of the regular rules for relationships get suspended and what Princess Cadance calls emergency imprinting takes place; a special type of herd is formed. I wish I understood it better, but I am not Princess Cadance. During my time in the Crystal Empire though, I witnessed the dynamic. Princess Cadance, when she treated soldiers that had been injured in a fight, those who had suffered truly gruesome injuries, she kept whole units together so she could study them. Those guards who had their units there with them, their friends, their emergency herds, they recovered faster, healed better, and travelled the road to wellness, as Cadance called it. Those that faced convalescence alone didn’t recover as fast, didn’t heal as well, and as I would find out later in my life, when she did her follow-throughs with me, these guards did not travel the road to wellness. Issues plagued them, both in the body and up in the head stuff. I suppose I was lucky that friends arrived when they did, because I needed them to recover. Somehow, I had fractured my mind and injured my heart. Did I travel the road to wellness? I’d like to think that I did. But I’m not normal. I’ve seen stuff. Leaving home changed me. Facing death changed me. Learning that one pegasus can make a difference changed me. Becoming a mother changed me. It wasn’t so much a pregnancy as it was a transformation and a journey into unknown skies. My mettle was tested, my resolve, my everything. At some point very early on, I started to turn into the pony that my husband, my beloved Wormwood, wanted as his mate. It takes a brave, brave pony to take on a nocturnal pegasus as their mate. Most ponies are terrified of his kind. But I changed. I broke away from whatever normal is and I became something else. Something better. No longer was I a timid little day dweller, but I began to explore the unknown night. When I look at Wormwood, or Silver Lining, I don’t see creatures that might eat me. I see my husband and I see my daughter. The same goes for Hachikō. Poor fella, he has such a hard time gaining acceptance. I’ve noticed though that he does well with ponies who have walked the roads, ponies who understand threat and danger. Hachikō is a good companion to have on the roads, in the wild, but if you’ve never left home and never had a whiff of danger, then poor Hachikō is probably a big scary dog to you. But I trusted him with my own life and my daughter’s life when she was at her most fragile. Mrs. Milkweed was in a fine, spry mood today and it was she who served tea. Gathered around the table, Gloomy had found herself some happiness, with her old friends and her new friend getting along famously. Jasper Picklesworth and Mrs. Milkweed in particular hit it off rather well, with her teasing him for his grumpiness. Gleamgood was in fine, polite form, and he glowed from within from his own happiness. Hachikō was hunched over in a chair far too small for him, at a table far too short, but he made do. Tea was quickly becoming a way of life for Gloomy, who had never really bothered with a tea ritual before. But life in the Crystal Empire was all about tea and sympathy. It gave ponies a reason to gather, to talk, to pour their hearts out to one another. New friendships were made and some even fell in love. Mrs. Milkweed believed that a daily tea ritual helped to enforce herd bonding and kept ponies on good terms with one another. “So you’re going to raise a griffon?” Jasper’s question came out of the blue and his tone seemed almost incredulous. It also caused the occupants of the table to go silent and it didn’t take long before the grumpy earth pony cottoned on that something might be amiss. “I’m just shocked that somepony cares enough to do that, that’s all. All this big city bustle. Nopony cares about anypony else anymore. Harrumph.” Without realising it, Gloomy let out a sigh of relief and reminded herself that just because Jasper was grumpy, one should not assume the worst of him. He had surprised her before as well and beneath his gruff exteriour, he was a good sort… just a little acerbic. “Even I’ll admit that I’m surprised,” Gleamgood said, his voice soft and lacking his usual enthusiasm. “Griffons were our enemies once. I come from a distant past and I find this future quite confusing at times. It is difficult to be a time traveller.” “Pshaw!” the old mare huffed, and then Mrs. Milkweed let out a throaty laugh. Lifting a withered, wrinkled leg, she waved at Gleamgood and sank back in her padded, high backed chair. “I forgot that you’re older than I am. How silly I am, feeling self-conscious about my age when there’s a thousand year old pony around. Why, I am practically a yearling.” “Only by a mere technicality,” Gleamgood replied and then he let out a good natured chuckle. Just a little confuzzled, Gloomy’s head cocked to one side and she tried to make sense of the exchange. Gleamgood was a thousand years old? He hadn’t mentioned that before and that seemed like the sort of thing that one might mention. Then, after spending a little time in the dungeon of dullardry, the oubliette of oafishness, a flash of tepid, lukewarm intelligence flickered to life between her ears: Gleamgood had been born over a thousand years ago, when the Crystal Empire had vanished. “Oh…” She breathed her word aloud and was thankful that she did not reveal herself as a featherbrain. Ears down, she offered up a sheepish smile without realising it and got a curious look from Jasper in return. Before she could do anything to give herself away, Gloomy slurped some of her tea. Nopony would suspect anything if she kept her cool. “So you met Gloomy on the road?” Mrs. Milkweed asked. “We did,” Gleamgood replied. “My companion Jasper and I were in need of assistance and water. Gloomy gave us both.” “It is good to see that kindness is still a virtue.” The old mare sighed, settled back into her chair a little more, and then let out a weary gasp that seemed to make her whole withered, wrinkled body shrink. “This wasn’t always the case. In my life, I’ve seen so much… for a time, we grew so cold to one another. We forgot the lessons of the past and we repeated a few mistakes. It took a civil war to remind us how to behave. This might be the ramblings of an old, senile mare, but some good came out of that war. Princess Celestia’s reconstruction efforts returning a lot of kindness and generousity to the land that had been missing. I saw it… I saw it all. Ponies had to remember how to be kind to one another. Of course, when the war happened and the wounds were still fresh, I didn’t think the nation would ever heal.” “And when King Sombra turned cruel and took over the Empire, I didn’t think that we would ever be freed.” Gleamgood nodded, reached out, and patted the old mare upon her foreleg. “And when he was defeated, ‘twas kindness that restored us and gave us hope.” The crystal pony’s eyes closed for a moment and his breathing became rather shallow. “A miraculous act of kindness draws us into this modern era. Thank goodness for the wise Emperor and the gentle Empress.” Since nopony was eating them, Gloomy pulled an entire plate of sugar cookies over and then began to methodically destroy them, one by one. She slipped a whole cookie into her mouth, sucked on it for a bit to soften it, and when it crumbled into soggy, crumbly, sugary goodness, only then would she chew up the remains so it could be swallowed. The contents of the plate vanished with an astonishing rapidity. “And what of you, quiet one?” Mrs. Milkweed asked of Hachikō. “How does kindness fare in your homeland?” “It is dead,” Hachikō replied, sounding sad and distant. “It was one of the first casualties when the great turtle-dragon, Tōsō, came up out of the sea. Tōsō came ashore one day and asked the first of many questions that tore Inujima apart. ‘Surely,’ he said, ‘the samurai are entitled to a greater share of the farmer’s labours, because without them the farmers would have nothing. So even if the samurai take a great deal, and leave the farmers with very little, very little is still more than the nothing that they would have if there were no samurai. Are the samurai to be insulted and not given their due?’ Almost overnight, the honourable became bandits, cruel and greedy.” Jasper shook his head, sighed, and rolled his eyes. “Then Tōsō went to work on the sophists, saying, ‘Surely, knowledge is power. Shouldn’t power rest with those most capable and most responsible? What need does a rice farmer have of knowledge? Does it make the rice taste better? Why give power away? Should it not be given to those who can do the most with it? And whom can do the most with it? Those with coin and resources.’ Even the wisest and most learned were taken in by Tōsō’s words, and so the learned found themselves at odds with all, including the warriors.” Mrs. Milkweed covered her mouth with her hoof and her eyes seemed… sorrowful. “So, the sophists quickly found themselves at odds with the samurai, who did not negotiate, nor did they ask. When those of learning refused to share their knowledge, when they did not freely give away their secrets, the fallen bandit samurai slaughtered them… and so began the end of Inujima. Tōsō sowed cruelty, greed, deceit, treachery, misfortune, and strife to our island nation, and by doing so, brought doom to us all.” “The opposites of the Great Equestrian Virtues.” Mrs. Milkweed underwent a curious transformation and something about her seemed far more schoolmarm than anything else. “Kindness, generousity, honesty, loyalty, and laughter. Oh, and magic, I suppose. I’m not much of a unicorn, because I’ve always put more faith in sharing a meal than I did casting a spell.” With a guilty glance around the table, Gloomy devoured the last sugar cookie. Blinking a few times, the old mare sighed, then yawned, and then she allowed her body to ease up against the overstuffed sides of her chair. “Hachikō, I am honoured to have met you. Never forget the history of your kind. Do whatever you must to pass it along. You be a good pup now, and you listen to me.” With that, the old mare went silent, her features darkened, and she lifted up her cup of tea so that she might drink it. The graceful bow of Hachikō’s head radiated a sense of reverence, of respect, and he too, lifted up his teacup. He raised it in respect, held it to his nose, sniffed it, and then had himself a slurp. Meanwhile, Gloomy began to eyeball the cucumber and butter sandwiches cut into neat little triangles. Mrs. Milkweed put down her now empty teacup, smiled, and her right foreleg came to rest upon the well-cushioned arm of her chair. Jasper, his eyebrow arched, pushed the plate of cucumber and butter sandwiches closer to Gloomy, while Gleamgood seemed to study Hachikō’s every movement. After a few sniffs, Gloomy gave into temptation and began to ravage the piled plate of sandwiches. Jasper let out a cough, reached up, scratched his neck just below his jaw, and then looked down into his teacup, which sat on the table just before him. “This turtle-dragon, this Tōsō, he sounds a lot like Discord. I’ve heard it said that Discord has turned over a new leaf, but I don’t believe a word of it. Starting trouble for the sake of trouble. We earth ponies don’t abide no troublemakers. You keep your nose down near the ground and you work. If everypony did what they were meant to do, there’d be no trouble.” “Not all of us have our destinies so clearly defined,” Hachikō said in response. “Some of us spend our lives searching for purpose, such as the monks that once lived in my homeland. Sadly, they too were targeted by Tōsō, and were undone.” “Can’t searching for your purpose be your purpose?” Jasper’s face aged a great deal in just a few seconds when hundreds of fine, tiny wrinkles spread from his furrowed brows downward. “If you are off somewhere, contemplating your navel, you’re not in much of a position to start trouble. At least you are out of the way so others can get work done.” “Is work all there is?” Hachikō asked. “Yes.” Jasper let out a series of low grunts, a wicker, and then a whinny. “What of leisure?” The diamond dog leaned forwards, his jowls drawn tight in concentration. “That’s fun work.” Jasper, the ever-dour earth pony, squinted and stared back at the diamond dog across the table. “What of poetry?” “What of it?” the earth pony retorted in quick response. “Is it not some means of work to push a pen? To concentrate? To be creative? Is that not effort? Any idiot can make a poem, and the world is full of bad poets who poison the mind and the eyes of those who read their drivel. But good poetry… that’s effort expressed in ink. It’s like sculpting with a chisel. It all comes down to hard work. You have to carve in the fine details.” Hachikō shrugged. “I suppose you are correct.” At this, Jasper’s wrinkles vanished, most of them, and another faint whinny could be heard from deep within his throat. His ears rose for a moment, pivoted forwards, and then splayed until they pointed sideways and flat with his head. Seemingly at a loss for words, he lowered his head and began lapping up his tea. “My dear friend, you are not used to being told that you are right.” Gleamgood smiled and his teeth had a curious glow about them. “You are shockingly philosophical for a pickle salespony.” “And you are excruciatingly erudite for a pony whose vernacular is rooted one-thousand years in the past,” Jasper remarked mere seconds after Gleamgood’s words had been spoken, as tea dribbled from his chin. Gesturing with his paw, Hachikō made a gentle interruption: “The old mare has gone to sleep. Keep your voices down.” Sure enough, Mrs. Milkweed’s head now rested in the cushioned corner of the high backed chair A faint smile could be seen upon her lips, as well as a dribble of tea. Both ears drooped and Gloomy could not help but notice how peaceful the centenarian schoolmarm looked. Cramming in a whole cucumber and butter sandwich, the ravenous pegasus wondered what all this food would do to her once-trim figure. Jasper returned to lapping up his now cooled tea and Gleamgood turned to look at Gloomy, who was face-down in a plate of sandwiches, which seemed to be disappearing at an alarming rate. One sandwich was extra-buttery and Gloomy had to lick her lips to clear up the mess. Gleamgood, a real gentlepony, pushed a small plate covered in an assortment of cheese cubes in Gloomy’s direction with his hoof. “You’re eating for two,” the crystal pony said whilst his eyes darted towards Gloomy’s egg. “When the… whatever a baby griffon is called is hungry and won’t sleep, you’ll be thankful for being plump. Time to look after yourself will be in short supply, soon enough.” “At least there are no toothpicks in the cheese.” Jasper let out a low wickering grumble and rolled his eyes. “I’m not a unicorn. Pulling out toothpicks is a pain. They’re a real hazard for us earth ponies and pegasus ponies. Just cut the cheese and be done with it. No toothpicks.” Extending his paw, Hachikō made a sweeping gesture. “Wise dog say, effort is better spent cutting cake than cheese. Dog who cuts cake has many friends… dog who cuts cheese howls alone.” “Why… I say…” Gleamgood sat up straight, blinked a few times, and then repeated himself. “Why… I do say.” “You know,” Jasper said to the diamond dog across the table, “I had no idea that you had a sense of humour.” “My master was wise.” Hachikō seemed pained and for a moment, he squeezed his eyes shut. Calm returned to his face, but the suggestion of pain remained. “It is only when a mosquito lands upon your stone sack that you will realise, young pup, that there is always a way to solve your problems without violence. Be gentle in all that you do.” When he opened his eyes once more, great pain could be seen within their depths. “Did something happen to your master?” Jasper’s ears arose and resting his forelegs upon the edge of the table, he leaned forwards. “He was slain for banditry.” Hachikō’s reply held no semblance of emotion. “After killing farmers, he ceased to be my master and became a bandit. I would like to think that, in those final moments, after we had crossed blades, when I had impaled him, he became my master once more and was proud of me. It is foolishness on my part.” “Uh, I do not mean to interrupt,” Gleamgood said, interrupting. “Mrs. Milkweed isn’t sleeping.” “She isn’t?” Jasper’s head swiveled around and his eyes widened. Gloomy lifted her head from her pile of sandwiches to have a look. The old mare sure looked like she was sleeping. She was peaceful, still, and smiling. But something wasn’t right and even Gloomy noticed when she paid attention: Mrs. Milkweed’s barrel neither rose nor fell. Her nostrils did not flare with each inhale, because there were none. A great numbness overtook Gloomy when she realised the truth—a numbness that she found peculiar because she expected sadness. But sadness was nowhere to be found. “So it goes.” Reaching up, Jasper smoothed his mane back from his face with his foreleg and he gave his head a shake. “She lived long enough to become a stranger to her family and she died here, alone, with only us as her final company. I hope my mood wasn’t too awful.” “A stranger to her family?” At this, Gleamgood seemed confused. “I don’t understand.” “I’ve seen it before.” Jasper sighed once and then turned to face his friend. “You live as long as she does, you outlive some of your own foals, and maybe even some of your grandfoals, and the connection weakens. At some point, you stop being a mother, because all of your foals are gone. Then, over time, the connections continue to break down. You stop being a mother or a grandmother, and instead, you become that nice old lady that everyone is told to respect, but the direct connections are all gone. You’re a burden that everypony tolerates.” Gleamgood became distressed and rubbed his fetlocks together. “But how can that happen? I don’t even understand how a pony can live this long. How can these bonds be broken?” In response, Jasper shrugged. “I don’t know, but that’s the way it is.” Uncertain of what to think, Gloomy stared down motherhood in a whole new way while she stared at the unmoving body of Mrs. Milkweed. Her appetite now lost, she pushed away the plates of food in front of her, which clinked on contact with one another. When her mane tumbled down into her eyes, she did nothing to push it away, but continued to stare through it. “Her final words were to me.” Hachikō bowed his head and added, “I am honoured.” “One of us should go find somepony… some member of the palace staff, perhaps.” Gleamgood reached out and placed his hoof upon the old mare’s foreleg. “I hope we were pleasant company. Had we known this would be your last tea, we might’ve done more to make it special.” “She’s gone…” “Yes, Gloomy. I’m sorry.” Gleamgood’s ears drooped in an apologetic way. “I’ve never really made friends with an elderly pony before and I don’t know how to feel.” Gleamgood coughed. “I thought myself elderly… I did… I had lived for a long time… a little over two decades. I lived and lost… like so many, I’ve lost so much. But then we came back and the Emperor and the Empress healed us and gave us medicine and cured us of our ailments… it was miraculous. I was young again. My life feels so short compared to hers.” Pushing himself away from the table, Gleamgood wiped his eyes with his foreleg, stood up, and gave himself a shake. “I shall go and find somepony at once. Please, excuse me.” Confused, Gloomy licked her lips, shook her head, and tried to figure out what to feel.