Sapient - Sneak Peek: A Peerless Sequel · 2:14am Sep 15th, 2023
Writing a sequel, which you don’t see me do a lot. Here’s a full chapter: rather than fold it into the current one-shot, I’ll probably publish a new story when it’s done. It’s condensed bittersweetness, like I’ve been doing. But I hope you enjoy it.
If only love was so easy...
Burning. Burning. Burning.
Everything I’ve worked for is burning, twisting, falling apart.
And I can’t help but feel that it’s my fault—and only my fault—that things came to this.
The Whitetail Woods are awash with orange and red. At the edge of the earth where I hold fast, flames lap viciously at my hooves. The soil dries quick in the fast heat, and more fuel is drawn in with each oxygenated breath. It pumps upward like the gusts of a forge’s bellows. Insignificant ridgelines, held together by gangly roots, crumple apart. The flame-riding leaves above trickle in through the night sky as lanterns. The canopy and earth, here, are being torn asunder. Turned to the ash that the forest had been once before, but this was no purifying cleanse. I find it hard to imagine a new start rising from the soil. No, I can’t see that at all.
Instead, in the clearing just ahead, I see him. And even with the fire skulking at his heels, he bares a gentle smile from me.
I pass the flames. They do not cling to me.
His eyes stay on me as I approach. I settle on the hardened earth beside him. Bits of charcoal and ash dust creep, here. They must be across every hair on me, but I feel none of it. As I settle, the only thing I feel is his reassuring hand cupping my face.
“I’m here,” I whisper.
He nods.
“Is it over?”
He follows my gaze upward. My tree stands proudly, still. But where the trunk remains bright, the leaves have singed over, turnt out black. The crackle and hiss of the fire dims down, and the already cool air seems to grow colder.
“No, Sap. It’s just beginning.”
And just like that, warmth returns.
“Ent? Are you awake?”
Briefly, nothing.
“Ent?”
“Mm.” There’s a stir in the dark, followed by a yawn beside me. “Yeah... what’s up, Sap?”
“I don’t think I like winter very much.”
He yawns again. I hear him shuffling. “Why?”
“All the bad dreams come when all the leaves are gone.”
There’s more shifting around me. Blankets curling, a hand groping through them in the darkness. He finally finds me, and tugs me against him. I fall against his chest. There’s a comforting rise and fall to the world beneath, and the all-too desirable warmth trapped between me and him.
“What have I told you about starting so early with these thoughts, Sap?”
“Sorry.”
“S’okay. You were just dreaming, right?”
I nod against him.
His other hand comes sliding down. With one hand against my head, and the other digging through my mane, he pulls me closer. “We just woke up. I think it’s too early to start. Don’t you?”
“I just can’t keep my mouth shut—”
“Shh. Sap, quiet down.”
I do.
“Every morning I wake up, and you’re still here, I’m happy. I hope you feel the same. I’m happy to have you here. But you’re such a silly little pony, you know?”
“You’re my whole world,” I whisper.
“I love you.”
Every time he says it, it feels so unreal. For a moment, my thoughts turn southward. But I push past it. For him.
I finally complete our ritual. “I love you, too.” My heart thrums out its aches.
And for another day, I feel strong enough to keep going.
Our routine has solidified by now. He’s the first to tumble out of bed. I stay there in the warmth and scent he leaves for me. He’s never gone for long, because he comes right out to take me with him to the shower. I let him wash me, dry me, and herd me out into the hall. Not too much later, he joins me downstairs. After breakfast, our day could go anywhere, but it’s nicely consistent.
A lot of the time, Ent has work. He makes a living off of his carpentry and woodwork. He’s not the finest—even I have to admit he has his rough dips—but his pieces are special, unique; he’s always improving, maybe out of necessity, but also because he wants to be better. Equally attractive is the fact that they’re not made by just another pony: it’s exotic. Ponies have their comforts, and while we can be wary of the others on our world—something I had intimate experience with, of course—the things they bring to market are the pieces that make our lives worth living. Ent is appreciated, and I’m happy his work is a comfort to him.
When he can’t be with me, I’m usually not in town. But while I am, the house he lets me live in, and the breakfasts we share, are two of the most privileged things I’ve had in my whole life.
Sometimes, I'd be the one to start making breakfast. Almost always, though, he would finish where I'd just begun, and clean it up. Eggs were a mainstay dish for him, and on top of the alfalfa I'd usually eat, I'd been piling on more hay. From there, I'd talk about my little trees, and he'd listen. I'd apologized time and time again for having nothing better to talk about, but he always assured me that he was happy to hear my passion.
No matter how we started, though, it always left me unsure of what to do next.
Often, he’d make plans. More often than not, those plans set me up to be in his way.
“Oh, Sap.” I hear the sink stop running. When I look up from his table in the corner of the kitchen, he’s swallowing his last bite, and drying his hands. “Reminder. Tomorrow, Fluttershy’s.”
“Who?”
“The yellow pegasus mare. The one we painted birdhouses for, remember?”
Oh, right. She was nice. “I liked her.”
Ent finishes patting down the backs of his hands on his pants. “Good, because I take it you’re coming along with me on business again.”
I almost wanted to ask if he didn’t want me to go. But I managed to bury the thought among others. “Are you going to be there long?”
“Depends on how much of a pain her critter-crossing bridge is. And you know how much of a perfectionist I am.”
I smile softly when he comes over. “Me too.”
He runs a hand through my mane, then gives it a tussle. “Good. It’ll just be a good bit of the day. She’s like Twilight, too.”
I perked my ears high at that. “Really?”
“Sure. Her cottage looks a bit like a little tree.”
“Yeah... That sounds nice.”
His hand lingers on me for a while. I can see him thinking; he stares out toward the kitchen window. Every so often, he wriggles his fingers, digging gently into the base of my mane. It’s not completely dry, even after his earlier work with the towel, but he doesn’t pay that any mind.
“So... what are you doing today?”
“Hm. Well.” He thumps his fingers in rhythm. “I think I might take today off.” He glances down. “Do you have anything you want to do?”
“I just want to be with you.”
He nods, then turns thoughtful again. “Walk?”
“Outside of town.”
“Just us?”
“Please.”
“Okay. But... I’m going to need to take care of this mane again. And maybe throw in another brushing. I know I’d like that.”
Every possibility he brings to the table is one I want to explore.
I’m glad he wants to as much as I do.
Sounds good to me.