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// Chapter 3 
// Story: Spring Broke 
// by kudzuhaiku 
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Ripple Rusher was not at all as Buttermilk Oddbody remembered her and the young mare standing on the skiff having a break appeared as though she had aged far more than the years that had passed by since seeing her last suggested. Three foals huddled together in a small pen near the rudder, with the oldest being a well-developed yearling and the youngest looking very much like an infant.

“Ripple Rusher, it’s me… Buttermilk.”

Recognition sputtered like a fire igniting wet wood and Ripple Rusher, a pegasus, reached out one wing to rub her chin. Something tugged at Buttermilk’s heart when she looked at the three foals and realised that her foalhood friend was their mother. The crow’s feet around Ripple Rusher’s eyes deepened as her lips pulled back from her teeth in a weary, worn out smile.

“Buttermilk… it’s been forever. How’ve ya been?”

And to this, Buttermilk didn’t know what to say. She squirmed only just a little on the outside, but on the inside she was doing complex mental gymnastics. Three foals, all of which looked a little hungry, a whole lot bored, one beat up looking skiff that had seen better days, and one pegasus whose sides held a gentle swell to them—a sign of recent birth or yet another pregnancy—it was impossible to tell.

“I’ve been fine.” Even as she said the words, Buttermilk winced, as this was just the wrong thing to say to an old friend, but what else could she say? Right now, she wanted to fly away and be gone from this awkward, cringe-inducing moment, but she needed a ride home and maybe, just maybe, Ripple Rusher needed her friend. “University. It’s been stressful. I’m about to graduate and then I guess I’ll be moving onwards to an even more stressful career.”

The young pegasus mother coughed, her ears waggled, and she replied, “I wouldn’t know anything about that, university stuff, but I do know about working and stress.” Ripple Rusher chuckled a bit and looked her old friend up and down. “You never grew up and filled out. You’re still the little gawky filly that I remember.”

Blushing, Buttermilk didn’t know how to respond, so she pushed past it and got to the point. “Think I could get a ride home? I’d be willing to pay a fair fare, at least I hope it would be fair. I don’t know the going rate.”

“I’d be happy to take you home,” Ripple Rusher replied, her head nodding up and down. “I haul whatever I can to make a living, from ponies, to cargo, I carry it all.” The pegasus mare’s chuckles became bawdy laughter. “Most of my customers only have one kind of ride in mind and a mare’s gotta do what a mare’s gotta do to make a living.”

Standing on the dock, Buttermilk had second thoughts. Turning her head, she looked at Copperquick, squinting in the sun, and then she focused on her foalhood friend once more. What terrible fate had she escaped by leaving this place and seeking education? This wasn’t the sort of place that took kindly to the thought of welfare—everypony here was responsible for pulling their own weight somehow and failure to do so would get one shunned. Excuses would be met with derision and sneers of contempt.

There were no valid excuses and Buttermilk began to remember why she had left this place.

“Thanks, Rushy, I’d be happy to catch a ride with you.” The words clung in Buttermilk’s throat like a wooden carrot that refused to be swallowed and she had trouble looking her old friend in the eye. But look her friend in the eye she did, and Buttermilk tried to be as compassionate as possible.

“Who’s your beau?” Ripple Rusher asked and from what Buttermilk could tell, there was a sincere look of interest upon her old friend’s face.

“That is Copperquick. He is very dear to me—”

“Yeah, well, don’t fronk it up, you hear?” Ripple Rusher leaned in and Buttermilk’s eyes began to water from the stench of rye fumes. “He looks like a decent sort… don’t mess that up. I messed up… I gave away the goods because of a promise, and that promise wasn’t kept.” Ripple Rusher’s eyes turned a sidelong glance in the direction of her foals, and then she looked Buttermilk in the eye once more, breathing soured wind.

“After that slip up, he went and done told everypony what we did. What I did. He got to be a stud with bragging rights and I got to be a…” Words trailing off, Ripple Rusher coughed and her expression became one of intense bitterness. “I lost my job as a clerk in the dry goods store because Mrs. Spool didn’t approve. I found a lot of doors slammed in my face. I was stupid though, and didn’t learn, and gave it away again on a promise because I was desperate and needed a daddy, and that didn’t end well at all. I thought it might fix my problem.”

“Rushy, I’m sorry.” Buttermilk was sorry, and she felt a little guilty now about leaving for school.

“Now I have a reputation,” Ripple Rusher said and her words were laced with rye whiskey, regrets, and sorrow. “There’s only one thing that ponies expect from me now and I gotta keep my little ones fed somehow. It’s rough, Buttermilk… I’ve missed having you around… having somepony to talk to. Somepony to sort things out with. Why’d you have to go?” Her eyes narrowed, became unfocused, and her ears sagged down until they came to rest upon the weathered sides of her face.

So I wouldn’t end up like this, Buttermilk thought to herself, and as she did, she winced in pain. She hadn’t said the words, but just having them in her mind was too much. Much to her own shock, surprise, and horror, she found the truth slipping out from between her lips, unbidden. “There were things about myself I had to improve, to make better, and there was no way that I could have done them in this backwater. Let’s be honest, shall we? Mares aren’t expected to be educated here, just compliant. We do what we’re told, we follow the rules, and the best we can hope for, the best we can hope to achieve is to be ‘respected’ for keeping our heads down, working hard, and doing what is expected of us. That’s something I couldn’t live with, Rushy.”

“Well, welcome back to the backwater, Miss Oddbody… everything should be just about the same as when you left it.” Ripple Rusher laughed, a cynical, sardonic laughter that held no joy, the sort of laughter that were tears pretending to be something else and exiting elsewhere. “Hopefully my bad reputation won’t rub off on ya.”





The flat-bottomed boat skimmed over the water and Copperquick quite enjoyed himself, but he worried for Buttermilk, who seemed a bit subdued. She was quiet, a bit morose, and hadn’t said much since departure. What she needed was her tea, no doubt, and then she would be right as rain, she would return to her perky pegasus self.

Ripple Rusher piloted the craft with awe-inspiring skill and speed. She had her front hooves braced against the back of the skiff and it pushed it over the water with seeming ease, steering the craft to avoid collisions while pushing down on the back to raise the front to take on incoming waves and wakes from other vessels. She was good at what she did and he marvelled at her ability. Pegasus ponies made for awesome means of propulsion, an engine that ran on oats rather than coal.

Esmeralda was scared, but quiet. Secure in her carrier, she watched the world go whizzing by, her eyes wide, fearful, and her ears remained pinned down against the back of her head. Copperquick kept one foreleg tight around her to keep her hushed and he tried to take in the multitude of amazing sights all around him. Some of the islands were quite large, large enough to have streets with wagons. It was like some town had been broken up into pieces and could be reassembled like a puzzle. There were department stores now, well-to-do establishments, signs of wealth that would not be too out of place in Canterlot.

Some of the islands seemed to be pony-made, mounds of shaped earth and stone that rose from the water to offer more space for the city to sprawl out. Some islands had vast, sprawling estates upon them with noble manor houses that exuded the quiet dignity of old money. There was traffic in the water now that they were in the town proper, away from the train station, which was now miles behind them.

Arched bridges connected some of the islands, and drawbridges allowed for larger ships to pass. The skies over the water were filled with pegasus ponies and griffons and Copperquick recognised some of the uniforms as those belonging to delivery workers. There was a thriving, bustling city here with a need to communicate, for goods to get from one point to another, and an earth pony such as himself would have a rough go of things doing delivery work here.

Canterlot was a city with an enormous population all crammed into one itty-bitty living space. Tens of thousands lived and worked in the teeny, tiny city atop the mountain, built in a spot where no city should ever be, the most illogical foundation for a city ever conceived. This place, this city, it had spread out as much as possible in all directions. It was no short walk to get from your home to a store, no, to Copperquick’s eyes, it appeared as though leaving your home was an adventure.

He was distracted by Buttermilk’s foreleg slipping around his own and when he looked down at her, he saw that her eyes were glassy with tears. There was something wrong, but what? Emotions about being home? Was she worried about the reunion with her parents? She was shaking, trembling, and her ears were quivering in the strong wind. When she redoubled her grip, Copperquick began to worry and he saw the corners of her mouth tugging about from twitchy face muscles.

When the water became choppy and the skiff began to bounce a bit, Esmeralda let out a few alarmed burbles, but didn’t start crying, much to her father’s relief. A houseboat went chugging by, belching out sooty black smoke from a pair of tarnished copper stacks that glistened green in the salty, moist air.

Feeling for his companion, Copperquick tried to imagine himself in her position. Coming home after all this time away, he would probably be trying to hold back the tears as well. Little Miss Oddbody was an emotional sort, and she wore her fragile heart on her cardigan sleeve for all of the world to see. When the first tears began to fall, he turned away, much to his own shame, fearful that he would suffer the same fate. He missed his parents, he missed his home, and after sniffling for a time, he returned his gaze to Buttermilk, who was now pressed up against him, trying to hold back the sobs that could not be contained.

Salty tears slipped into the salty air and Buttermilk pulled off her oversized square framed glasses with her wing. They were tucked into a pocket on her cardigan and then she buried her face into Copperquick’s side. Esmeralda, perhaps sensing that something was wrong and with her being none too happy about her own situation, she began to blubber. Not shrieking, not screaming, just a quiet, exhausted meltdown that was a clear indicator that she was in dire need of a nap.

The sweet, comforting sounds of a banjo, a guitar, and a fiddle could be heard from a passing boat. He only got to hear a short sample of the rollicking tune—just enough to lift his spirits in a strange place that had both sorrow and joy in almost equal measures—and then the song faded into the cacophony of the world around them as the passing boat gained distance. Had Copperquick been in a more philosophical mood, he might have mused upon the situation and thought that happiness came in small doses, it was precious, and each second should be thoroughly enjoyed.

But all he could think of was the wet, soggy face pressed against his side and the exhausted sobbing of his daughter. From their little pen, Ripple Rusher’s three foals watched in silence, saying nothing, moving very little, and clinging to one another, with the biggest trying to hold the two smaller ones tight against him while staring at Copperquick with wide, wary eyes, a distrustful expression if ever there was one. Had Copperquick a bit more situational awareness, he might have noticed, but he was lost in his own thoughts, distracted by those he held most dear to him.

Hungry—empty even—exhausted from travel, Copperquick wondered what it would mean for him to go home.