Hachikō seemed so very large and Sumac felt so very small. From where he was sitting, the colt looked up at the diamond dog, having to tilt his head back quite a ways. The diamond dog was holding Silver Lining in his arms and stroking her neck with his broad, well calloused paw. There was a bond here, an old one, and Sumac likened it to butting into an ongoing conversation; any new bond of familiarity happened while intruding on the one already in place.
He wasn’t sure why he thought that, but think it he did. There was a certain level of awkwardness in meeting a friend’s old friend, but Sumac didn’t understand why. Perhaps he was having an introvert moment and overthinking everything involved. Octavia had warned him that most ponies, and for that matter, most others, didn’t share his quirks. His issues, his problems, they existed within his own headspace.
“Sumac, Pebble, this is Hachikō,” Silver Lining said, making an introduction. “Hachikō, this is Sumac and Pebble, my friends from school. My friends from school don’t seem to mind that I’m a griffon.”
“Wait, ponies mind that you are a griffon?” Pebble asked.
“Well, most,” Silver Lining replied, “but not a lot of my fellow students.”
“I wonder why that is...” Pebble, squished in a chair beside Sumac, looked thoughtful.
“Why what is?” Silver Lining’s head turned to one side as she waited for Pebble’s answer.
“Sumac and I, we’re different. A lot of the foals in Twilight’s school are different. We think different, we act different, but I don’t want to just say that it is just because we’re smarter. It’s more than that.”
“I have a problem with acceptance,” Hachikō remarked. “Many ponies are afraid of me, and for good reason. Much of my kind are not to be trusted.” The diamond dog mused on the issue for a moment, his face becoming wizened, and the grey patches around his eyes became far more pronounced as his wrinkles multiplied. “In my experience, ponies seldom ask why, but rather, go with what they know. Diamond dogs are dangerous and griffons are jerks. Changing these perceptions might be dangerous, maybe even fatal. It is better to go with the safe assumption.”
Vinyl’s head bobbed up and down and it wasn’t from the music.
“But Silver Lining is little and harmless,” Sumac argued.
“She still bears the stigma of her species,” Hachikō countered.
“I know what stigma means.” Sumac’s lips pressed into a straight, pinched line. “Trixie and I had to deal with it on the road. There is a stigma that belongs to ponies that live in wagons and roam the countryside. Many times, we weren’t trusted and we were asked to move along. It’s part of why we stayed in the cemeteries.”
“Already you are wiser than most your age.” Hachikō bowed his head, then, bending over, he placed Silver Lining down upon the floor. He patted her on the head as she scrambled off to go and be with her mother, her claws scratching and scrabbling over the stone floor. The diamond dog watched her go for a time, he sighed, and then he shook his head.
“Something wrong?” Pebble asked, cottoning on to the fact that something felt off.
“Nothing is wrong,” Hachikō replied, still shaking his head. “Time passes and my life grows ever shorter. I now have more years behind me than ahead, I think. I have watched her grow… When she is grown up, I will be very old, or maybe dead. I do not live a safe life.” The diamond dog sighed again. “I used to believe that the worst indignity that I could suffer was to die of old age. Now, as I grow older, as the battles become harder, as I have to rely more upon cunning and guile rather than power, I find that I want to die of old age, but I am now afraid of dying alone. I fear I have become unreasonable in my silver years.” The old diamond dog’s shoulders heaved up and down as he chuckled. “Enough about me, we have a wedding to celebrate…”
Now sitting on a wooden bench worn smooth with age, Sumac watched as the bride and groom took their places. Gloomy had a crown of autumn wildflowers upon her head, Sumac wondered where she had got them and how they had survived the recent cold snap. The pony officiating the wedding was an old green earth pony, he looked a bit withered, and Sumac couldn’t be quite certain, but it appeared that the old green earth pony had a stick of dynamite for a cutie mark.
How did a pony get a stick of dynamite as a cutie mark?
Sumac could only assume that most of the guests who did show had to be in the guard; many were nocturnal pegasus ponies, some were regular pegasus ponies, and one guest was a massive pink pegasus pony who sat near the front beside a big blue earth pony. The enormous pink pegasus let out a honk and big fat tears rolled down her cheeks as the blue earth pony beside her tried to comfort her.
“I need some bourbon,” the old, withered green earth pony said, his voice scratchy. “I need something to smooth out my old throat.”
“Hey, somepony fetch Chesty McPuller some bourbon!” a big lunar mare barked.
Hooves clattered as a young adult unicorn scrambled to do the big mare’s bidding and Sumac guessed that the young unicorn was perhaps a private, or some low ranking member of the guard, hoping to curry some favour. There was an eager grin on his face and he looked pleased to be able to help out the old earth pony, whom Sumac figured was important, and somehow a bit familiar as well.
A rather large glass tumbler was fetched, it was filled with a few ice cubes, and then poured full to brimming with bourbon, a ridiculous amount—Sumac was five years old and even he knew that there was enough booze in that big glass tumbler to completely smash a pony. The glass was brought to the old green pony, who grabbed it in his fetlock, and then the glass was emptied down in just a few gulps.
Sumac, a tiny colt he might be, was impressed.
“That’s better.” Chesty’s voice was now as smooth as silk spread over a fine layer of gravel. “Wormwood, you found you a looker, how’d an ugly mug such as yourself manage to get her to say yes?”
“She asked me,” Wormwood replied as the room filled with laughter.
“How much hooch did that take, I wonder?” Chesty remarked as he chortled.
“Not as much as it’s gonna take to get through the honeymoon!” somepony in the crowd shouted and then there was uproarious, bawdy laughter.
“Mom?” Sumac whispered.
“What?” Trixie asked as she leaned over a bit.
“Mom, I can’t but wonder, how are they are going to make foals?”
“Sumac!” Trixie turned to look at her colt as Lemon and Twinkleshine both began to snigger.
“Well, I can’t help but notice that Wormwood’s—”
“Sumac!”
“—neck—”
Trixie let out a sigh of relief and rolled her eyes.
“ —is bigger than Gloomy’s body. He’s enormous—”
“Sumac…”
“ —and if they try to make foals, I don’t think Gloomy will ever be able to sit down ever again.”
“Sumac Apple!” Trixie’s muzzle scrunched up and crinkled as she gave her son a stern look of disapproval.
Lemon Hearts and Twinkleshine were clinging to one another as they howled with laughter, and several of the nearby guests were guffawing as well. Pebble meanwhile had turned a darker shade of chocolate brown, almost a coffee, and she was staring at the mural on the wall, ignoring everything being said and done around her. Not far away, the big pink pegasus and the big blue earth pony had turned around to look, and both were sniggering.
“Sumac, just how much do you know about this subject matter?” Trixie asked in a low, embarrassed voice.
“Well, I’ve watched cows doing it and plenty of other wild animals,” Sumac replied, squirming in his seat. “I don’t fully understand it, but I have a pretty good idea—”
“That’s enough of that!” Trixie poked Sumac with her hoof, drew in a deep breath, and then let it out in a long, slow sigh of resignation before she continued, “Sumac, a marriage or any sort of relationship of that nature is supposed to be about trust and not hurting your partner—”
“Foaling hurts.” Sumac adjusted his glasses, which had just mysteriously fogged over.
“Some hurts cannot be avoided,” Trixie said, clarifying her argument as Pebble squirmed on the bench beside Sumac. “You know, Sumac, there are times when I wish I had foaled you. You’re that special to me. Why, you’re the Apple of my eye...”
Oh. Redirection. Sumac was all too aware of how this game was played. She had just changed the subject and now Sumac wasn’t sure what to say next. Trixie was, perhaps, a bit too good at this game. He decided, after a few seconds of calm ponderance, to let the issue go. Instead, he focused his attention on Gloomy and Wormwood, who stood beside one another, and Silver Lining, who was sitting on the floor beside her mother’s hind hooves.
Saying nothing, Sumac lifted up his right front leg, scooted a little closer to Trixie, and wrapped it around her left front leg. It was strange, how things worked out, but he wouldn’t have them any other way. His ears perked as the wedding actually started, but he had trouble hearing what was being said.
It was funny how a promise could bind two ponies together, well, two of anything really, or even two or more. Once that promise was made, it was binding and it bound those who loved another together. The words had a special magic all their own, and for Sumac, magic words had a special meaning due to his talent, his own unique magic that involved words.
At that moment, more than anything, Sumac wanted the budding relationship between Trixie and Lemon Hearts to work. He wanted them to maybe say their own special magic words to one another someday, and perhaps even Twinkleshine as well, because he liked her, but he didn’t fully understand the full nuance of adult relationships.
Perhaps that is what Pebble needed—reassurance—the magic spoken words that would assure her that everything would be okay and that her family, such as it was, would stay together. He had thought about this before, but thought even more about it now. Words held meaning, had weight, had power, and so many of the rituals in society were based around the exchange of words.
A deal made. A bargain struck. The promise of love. Turning his head, Sumac looked over at Vinyl and the young, naive colt began to understand just how difficult it was to be mute, to not have a voice, to not be able to engage in social rituals that involved the exchange of words, and there were so many social rituals that had words.
With a sigh, a deep feeling of empathy blossomed within Sumac’s breast as he had his profound revelation and he clutched his mother’s leg just a little tighter. The crowd had hushed now and it was quiet, so quiet, quiet enough for him to hear some of Wormwood’s vows to Gloomy, something about cherishing her as his greatest treasure.
There was a soft, muted squeak as Sumac came to the realisation that adoption and marriage were the events that had shaped his young life. His own adoption, Trixie’s sworn promise to look after him, to love him, to keep him, to be his mother—then there was the royal wedding of the two sisters, something that he knew had been a profound experience for him. All of these experiences involved spoken words.
It wasn’t in Twilight’s school where he had learned his greatest lessons, but he had learned his greatest lessons because he had gone to Twilight’s school—choosing to settle down and be adopted. His cheeks and ears burned as tears began to pour down his muzzle, but he wasn’t crying because of the wedding, no, he was crying because of the emotions caused by his thoughts. He felt unsettled though, knowing that any who saw him in this state would think he was crying because of the wedding.
There was nothing that could be done about it.
Lifting his head a little higher, Sumac tried to get a better view, and did so just in time to watch as Wormwood and Gloomy kissed one another, sealing the deal so to speak. The kiss didn’t end—no—in fact, it just kept going and going and Sumac turned away, his face still burning and his ears still on fire, but now even more so.
A cheer rose from the crowd and turning his head, Sumac caught sight of Pebble, who was staring at him. He watched her, uncertain of her intent or why she was staring at him in such a way, and then much to his horror, she started getting closer, closer, and then even closer until she was deep inside of his personal space. Freezing in place, he could feel Pebble breathing on him, and he could feel a cloud of butterflies in his stomach, no, not butterflies, there was a swarm of bats in his tummy, he was certain of it, and then something dreadful happened.
Pebble wiped away his tears using the sleeve of her dress and then kissed him on the cheek.