Nine Years Later...
Rays of thin sunlight descended in a futile attempt to keep autumn’s chill at bay. Those last few rays, stretched long from the horizon hearkened the evening hours, as the sun took an early leave. Each slow breeze brought the air of the oncoming winter, stealing each ounce of warmth from the sweat along my back. I supposed it couldn't be much better for my companions, yoked into the plow on either side of me.
Up ahead was the last turn, and then one last furlong to plow before we could all go back to the house for the night and get a hot dinner. It had been a long day of plowing; making sure all the corn stalks were plowed back into the ground. All done so that the field would be more fertile in the spring, and hopes that we would have a better harvest in the fall. A larger meal and a full bit-pouch was more than most folks had. At least we had jobs.
To my left was Pale Withers, a tall earth pony buck who lived up to his name. A fully white coat and a silver mane, with a scarf to match. He had been signed up to work on the farm a year and a half ago, at the same time I did. It was three meals a day, a bed to sleep in, and a cut of the harvest at the end of each autumn. To the right, Oakheart pressed on. The brown coated, black maned earth pony boasted every bit of his father’s strength, a very good heir to the family farm indeed. Oakheart had vouched for us to his father to get us this work, and if they kept me another year or two, I’d have enough coin to buy my own plot of land. From there I could find a wife, and raise a family, and…
I shook the visions of myself holding a foal from my eyes to see the fence coming up quick. It was time to turn, and with a practiced step, Pale Withers shortened his stride, and Oakheart lengthened his. Soon Pale Withers stopped, and the arc commenced. The same mundanity as we’d seen all day, until the plow stopped, yanking myself and Oakheart back to land against the ground. With labored gasps we stood back up and push against it. It had to be caught on a rock, and we’d get it out of the way and keep going.
As we strained, it just didn’t want to seem to come loose. The look in Oakheart’s eyes mirrored exactly what I was thinking. Oh hell, there is no way were are going to back up now. Push it on through. Together, we strained one more time, throwing all of our weight into it. From below, the *snap* of a root giving way sounded, and we surged forward faster than I would have thought possible. Pure instinct saved me as Pale Withers and I dove to the left, slamming into the cold ground with yokes taught. Looking up as I fell, I saw Oakheart dive to the right-and run into the fence. There was no more time for him to move as the plow blade fell upon him.
A scream rent the air, and Pale Withers and I rushed to help. The yoke on his neck had taken most of the blow, but that not stopped the blade from scraping his back, and gouging deep into the side of his neck. The blood was already coming fast.
I bit the yoke off his neck as Pale Withers tore off his scarf. “Brook, bind that and hold pressure on it, I’m gonna get help!” He spat the scarf down on top of Oakheart, and galloped off as fast as he could back toward the farmhouse.
“Hold still, Oak!” He groaned as I tried to shift his neck while picking up the scarf in my teeth. “Erm tryn tuh sarve yhou dermnit!” Wrapping the cloth tightly around the wound seemed to make the bleeding slow down, and I put pressure on it, feeling the warm liquid pushing back against my hooves. It was all I could do until help showed up or Oakheart died.
“But it isn’t all you can do.” As the familiar voice passed over me, I shook and lost my grip on the scarf. Cursing, I shoved my hoof back place, eliciting another cry of pain from Oakheart. Looking up, I saw him as his shadow passed over me, the black cloak blocking the last dregs of sunlight.
“Why are you here!?”
“I’m sure you know that.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to stop and think, Brook.” Toll walked closer until I could just make out the pale face under the cloak. He was frowning. “Here you are, letting your fellow pony suffer needlessly when you could spare him the pain.”
“I don’t understa--”
“Ok, let me be more direct. Stomp on his neck, kill him, save him the pain of dying slowly.”
“Oh hay no!” I yelled at him.
“Brook, please...don’t,” murmured Oakheart.
“I don’t think you understand how this works. We made a deal, and I’ve come to collect. It’s not as if he will not be dead in a few minutes, despite your attempts to convince yourself otherwise.”
“But why like this? What can you possibly gain from it?” I begged.
“Why? Because it costs me to be here, but I must, for the sake of his soul. If I am able to depart sooner, it is easier on me. And for him, he will hurt far less.”
“He might still live!”
“Listen to me, child. He will not last. And even should he somehow pull through until help arrives, this world will no longer be for him. They will carry him back, and pray for his recovery, only to watch him slip away for a week, painfully falling away from the life you wish for him. You can not save him, but you can spare him.” He reached out a pale leg from under the cloak and reached out for mine. It didn’t take hold of me, but I felt drawn to it.
“Why...why can’t you?”
“I can’t cause change in this world. You must do so for him.” He rested my hoof above Oakheart’s neck. “Now...if you would be so...kind.”
Half of me screamed that I owed Toll, and I was doing what was kind and right. The other half had a word for what the first half wanted to do, and that word was murder. The two grappled with one another and my leg shook. Impatient, Toll jerked his leg downward, and the ghostly force allowed my muscles to overcome their deadlock. A dull crunch reverberated up my leg as Oakheart’s neck snapped, and with it, my resolve. I fell to the ground sobbing, my hoof still on his neck.
“No! Oak...no! Agh!”
Toll reached over to Oakheart and drew his soul from his body. I couldn’t look up to meet the gaze of the spirit rising. Once he was gone, Death knelt down.
“You did the right thing, Brook, but you took too long. That barely saved me any time at all. It’s going to take more on your end before things are even between the two of us. Take care, for I will have need of you again.”
When the the thunder of hooves on the ground announced the return of Pale Withers with company, I was still there, crying like a foal. As if in some attempt in an apology, I had not thought to move. Or perhaps, I wanted to look like I had tried to help save him until the end. A mare screamed, and the dust kicked up as many ponies surrounded us.
“Shh…it will be ok,” whispered Pale Withers into my ear as he picked me up and wrapped a coat around me. “Lets get you home and wash the blood off.”
“I...I tried! Withers I tried!”
“Yes, yes you did Brook. You did all you could for him. I’m sure sure he is watching you now fondly from the after.”
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The funeral was a quiet affair, with just a few dozen of the extended family and friends were in attendance. There wasn’t a reception or a dinner planned for afterwards, just a long walk back home to crawl into bed and avoid thinking about the next day until it arrived. Life kept bringing me back to that little plot of land on the edge of the forest. No, Death keeps bringing me back here. First Feather and Thatcher, then mother and father...will it end?
“...and may he rest in peace forever under the glory of the sun, the care of the moon, and the protection of the stars. From this life to the next, our love will be with thee, Oakheart.” The priest shut his book solemnly, and slipped it back into his bags. The crowd dispersed, and I gave Broadleaf and North Wind time alone with their son. I knew exactly where my legs were carrying me, but didn’t really want to stop, not until I reached the spot where a large hole in the earth had been filled in years ago.
I’d wanted just a moment to see my sisters again; a request with the innocence of a child, and the stupidity of a child. I’d always told myself that I’d have to pay somehow, but never had any idea of what it would be like. For so long, nothing had happened, and I’d never seen Toll again, so I wondered if what I had seen was only a dream. It had not been, and his words echoed within me: I will have need of you again. It was a promise, a promise that I would come back here again.
“Here he is.” The voice of Pale Withers echoed over to me, and startled me out of my reverie.
“Oh Brook!” called Broadleaf as she embraced me suddenly from behind. I didn’t know what was going on, but she was crying, and I couldn’t help it, I did too. Then North Wind joined us, and Pale Withers, and we mourned. The colt who was their son, the stallion who had been like a brother to us. I wasn’t sure if I cried for them, for him, or for myself, but I did all the same. We stayed there until the tears left us, and North Wind broke the silence with a ragged voice.
“Withers...Brook...you’ve been like sons to us...and...well, we’ll soon be too old to work the farm. We meant to pass it on to Oakheart...but since...this...we wanted to take you in as our own. You can have the farm...if you take care of us.”
Shame arose within me. Was it not enough just to kill Oakheart? I should not be taking his inheritance as well! And if I say no, Pale Withers can take over. It’s not as if they need two stallions to take the place of their son. I’m sure I can find somewhere else. I opened my mouth to tell them, but Pale Withers spoke first.
“I’ve just been offered a job as an apprentice with the blacksmith. With your blessing, I would take it, and have Brook stay with you.”
“Yes, so long as Brook is willing to stay.” He nodded.
“Please Brook? I know it’s been hard for you after your parents passed, but you’re all we have left too.” Broadleaf looked up at me, tears still running down her dark green muzzle. Her eyes were red from crying.
“I will.”