//------------------------------// // 6: The Storm // Story: Wood and Steel // by CodenameOne //------------------------------// That night brought rain, just as Drawbar suspected it would. The steady patter of rain hitting the train and running down the windows of the comfort car in rivulets sent a shudder down Drawbar's back as he sat at the tiny table that served as their dining room. He looked out the window, stewing in his own remorse and introspection, taking sips of his coffee every several seconds. He was two pots in, and still did he sit by the window, idly staring out it into the darkness. He and Axle had returned to the train just after noon, Axle asking if something was wrong and Drawbar merely replying he needed time alone. Axle respected his brother's space and retired to the control cabin for the evening, content to read as he so often did, leaving Drawbar with his thoughts as his only company as he brewed pot after pot of coffee. He was mad. Mad at himself for getting jealous of Willow's brother of all ponies. mad at himself for blowing off Willow's tour when previously he'd been very eager to see how they ran the mill, mad at himself for declining the opportunity to spend more time with Willow and learn more about him, and above all he was mad at himself for getting mad in the first place instead of acting like the stallion he was, trotting up to the mill, and apologizing to Willow and Trimmer. You screwed up, Drawbar, and Willow isn't gonna be too happy he though to himself. That much was true, but the question was to what extent would Willow be upset? It was obvious, at least to Drawbar, that something was growing between them. though born out of Willow's desperation for companionship or an actual bond Drawbar could not say. Would Willow forgive him? Would he even want to talk to him anymore? Did he think he did or said something wrong to upset Drawbar? Drawbar stopped, looking down at his coffee and idly swirling the contents with a spoon, realizing this introspection was doing him no favors. The only way to find out how Willow really felt was to go up and talk to him, but that prospect brought the same doubts as before. There was no guarantee that Willow would even deign to speak to him, and trudging up through the pouring rain only to get the door slammed in his face was no appealing thought. A stallion faces his problems, whatever may get in his way. The voice of Drawbar's father, Fire Box. Wise words, but nothing was ever so simple. Why shouldn't it be? Ya gotta problem, ya take care of it. No excuses, no overthinking. You get it done. More of father's wisdom, but could Drawbar really just trot up there and speak to Willow? You can keep asking yourself, or you can go bucking do it. Your choice. Downing the last of his coffee Drawbar stood up, trotting over to his footlocker and pulling out a raincoat, shrugging it on and pulling the hood over his head. He couldn't--he wouldn't--let the doubt eat away at him. He was going to go talk to Willow. Stepping out into the cold night rain Drawbar hoisted himself up onto the engine and knocked on the door of the control cabin, his brother sliding it open, a concerned expression on his face. "What'dya need, brother?" "I'm going up to the mill to talk to Willow." "When will ya'll be back?" "I don't know. If I'm not back in an hour, come up and find me." With that Drawbar turned and climbed down to the ground below, the gravel grainy and wet, flakes of it and dirt sticking to his hoof as he trotted up the tracks. The raincoat protected him from the worst of it, but it did nothing to shield him from the cold. With a shudder he made his way up to the waystation, following the winding dirt path behind it into the woods and to the base of the hill. He looked up as he trudged up the hill, a bolt of lightning striking far in the distance behind the manor, turning night to day for but an instant and silhouetting the manor, making it look for all the world like a mansion in a horror movie, rain falling off the battlements in little waterfalls. Several lights were on inside, and Drawbar could see the shadow of a pony moving around in one of the rooms. Steeling himself Drawbar ascended the hill, slowly approaching the manor, the ground squelching beneath his hooves, his brown coat even browner with mud as he went. Another lightning strike illuminated the sky once more, and Drawbar took the moment to glance at the mill. It was quiet and dark, empty. Drawbar let out a sight that turned into a shudder as he neared the manor, passing the iron fence ringing it, the old metal already long rusted from rainfalls past. Dirt turned to stone on the approach to the manor's doors, and Drawbar compelled the knot in his stomach to dispense even as it continued to form. He reached up to the knocker on the door and slammed it home once, twice, three times, taking a step back and patiently waiting for somepony to answer. When at last the doors finally parted Limb Trimmer was standing in the threshold. He looked at Drawbar with surprise, then concern. "Drawbar? What in the name of Celestia are you doing here at this hour? And in this weather! You're going to catch a cold" Trimmer said, beckoning Drawbar to come into the house to get out of the rain, prompting the rail buck to shake his head. "I came up here to talk to Willow. To apologize to him... And to you. I walked away earlier because--" Drawbar stopped, considering what he was about to say, and whether he should even say it to begin with. There was no telling how Trimmer would react to the things Drawbar was about to tell him. A stallion does the right thing, consequences be damned. "Trimmer, I walked away earlier because, well... I was jealous. The way you got to hug Willow, say to him 'I love you'... It made me terribly, irrationally jealous. Trimmer, I-- I think I like your brother, and I think your brother likes me, and-- I'm sorry. I'm sorry for acting a right fool" Drawbar confessed. Trimmer nodded knowingly, a sympathetic expression across his face. "Willow was mighty hurt by the way you just left earlier. He was really looking forward to showing you the mill, he told me. He didn't say a word the rest of the day, and he went out earlier. I've been mighty worried about him since he left. I think... I think he would like to talk to you, but I'm afraid I don't know where he is. There aren't that many places he could go to in specific, and if he went into the woods you'll never find him" Trimmer said. Drawbar looked grim, his mouth set into a thin crease of worry. "I've got to try." "You're welcome to look, Drawbar. You've still got time; with this storm the way it is daddy would've stopped in one of the inns along the road. I don't suspect he'll be home before tomorrow night. If you can't find Willow tonight, you'll have all day tomorrow." "Thank you, Trimmer. I promise I'll make this right." "It ain't me you need to apologize to, Drawbar. It's WIllow. But if I know my brother, he'll be glad to see you. Good luck, and may Celestia be with you." Drawbar set off towards the mill first thing, looking to start his search there. It was a likely place for Willow to be in. Drawbar galloped up the steps of the mill, looking around the still saw, the cold furnace, and the end of the mill, all with no Willow in sight. He cantered down the length of the mill, peeking over the edge of the mill and around the log rack. Willow was nowhere to be found, and with the mill clear Drawbar leaped off and back onto the soaking ground, trotting up to the barn where they kept the stored logs ready to ship. It was dry inside, but still as cold as it was outside. Drawbar checked around the carts but there was no sign of Willow. With a sigh he took off across the estate, looking around the entire outside of the manor for any sign of the mill buck, with the same luck as before. With nowhere else to turn Drawbar headed around to the back of the manor, heading for the stone bridge that spanned the river. Drawbar rounded the corner of the iron fence and made a beeline for the bridge, galloping up to it. It was clear, and he raced across it, the sound of his hooves striking stone lost the torrent of the rain and the rushing of the water in the river below. Lightning flashed once more, lighting up the massive field on the other side of the bridge, with no Willow in sight at all. Running out of places to look Drawbar took off for the forest, suspecting that if he was anywhere Willow would be at the spot where the tree fell earlier. The conductor pony's hooves carried him across the field with purpose, the wind at his ears even as the rain fell off them, the hood of the raincoat blown back by his running. Drawbar charged into the woods, the ground only a scant drier as it was shielded by the branches and leaves above. In another half-minute Drawbar was at the spot he'd been in earlier in the day, marked by the stumps of what-was and the tracks of the cart still embedded in the dirt even as the rain slowly softened the ground and erased the tracks. But still no Willow. Hanging his head and relenting Drawbar turned in the direction of the manor and started his trek back, deciding that coming out in the rain was a fool's errand. He'd have to talk to Willow tomorrow, assuming he'd even let him. As he went along his way, Drawbar was struck with a terrible sorrow, weighing on him worse than the rain as it fell off the raincoat. Willow was out there in the pouring rain, and it was Drawbar's fault. As he slowly trotted across the field Drawbar kept his head hung low, his eyes glued to the ground as he went, the rain dripping off his snout. It took him a long time to cross the field, worry and doubt and regret following him the entire way back. Something wonderful had been in his grasp, and he'd chased it away with his own stupid behavior. Drawbar was getting closer to the river, he could hear the roar of the water over the falling rain, and he looked up to see where he was going and where the bridge was. He found it to his left a couple dozen yards away, and turned towards it, his hooves heavy. Lightning flashed once more, and in the brief light Drawbar saw something that made him stop, unsure if he'd actually seen it. The silhouette of a pony, standing on their hindlegs and slumped over the stone railing of the bridge. Drawbar slowly approached, not wanting to startle the pony on the bridge if they were who he thought they were. He neared the bridge, lifting a hoof and planting on the side of the right-hoof railing to steady himself. The pony, an earth buck, was facing away from him and looking down into the river. As he drew closer Drawbar heard a sound over the rain, over the roar of the river, over the squelching of his hooves and the crinkling of the raincoat. He heard crying. He eased up to the mouth of the bridge, silently watching the pony as he sobbed, his forehooves around his head, shielding his face from the rain and the sight of any who might be watching. It was Willow, and Drawbar was both happy and torn to see him, especially in the state he was in. Unsure of what to do Drawbar simply stood where he was, indecision staying his hooves. He wanted to embrace Willow, to assure him everything would be OK, but would it? He was the source of Willow's current anguish, and approaching him could make the matter even worse. "If I know my brother, he'll be happy to see you" Trimmer's words echoed in Drawbar's mind. He didn't doubt Trimmer, but now, with Willow before him on the bridge, Drawbar wasn't so sure, and once more he found himself unsure of what to do. He's upset, cold, wet, and lonely. He doesn't know why you blew him off earlier, and he's been out here for Celestia knows how long. Do you really think he wants to see you? His brother said he'd be happy to see me, and I know he'd like to get out of this downpour. He needs time alone, just like you did. Just let him get it out of his system, and talk to him tomorrow. Tomorrow I may not have the chance. Willow continued to sob on the bridge, his tears lost to the rain, his cries going unheard except by Drawbar. The train pony was more nervous than before, but his mind was made up. He needed to talk to Willow, if for nothing else than to put the mill buck's mind at ease. Taking a tentative step forward onto the bridge Drawbar approached slowly, stopping a respectful distance away, wanting to give the young buck space. "Willow?" "AAHH! WHO'S THERE?!" Willow screamed, startled. He pushed off the railing, forgot he had been standing on his hinds, and flailed for balance. He staggered back, thrown off balance by the sudden push away from the railing, his body struggling to get all four hooves back onto the ground. He hit the other railing unexpectedly, rolled, and tipped forward, going over the edge with a scream, falling to the raging waters below. "WILLOW!" Drawbar raced up to the middle of the bridge and peered over the edge, looking for any sign of Willow. The current was strong, flowing in the direction of the mill. Drawbar switched to the other side of the bridge and desperately looked for any pony-made splashing or sign of Willow moving through the river. There was nothing. "Oh no, no, no!" Drawbar said, galloping off the bridge and down the bank of the river towards the mill, keeping his eyes fixed to the rushing water. He couldn't see Willow anywhere, and had no idea how well he could swim. He doubt it'd help him much anyway, with how strong the water was racing and roaring. He's dead. You killed him. Drawbar ignored the dark thoughts as he cantered to a stop, straining to see anything beyond the occasional white of the churning water. He hadn't seen Willow at all, and he was starting to think he'd gotten stuck back by the bridge somehow, and was drowning there while Drawbar ran away. Alternatively, the current could still be carrying him down the river, and Drawbar was potentially about to lose him that way. Struck again by indecision Drawbar was about to gallop back up to the bridge to double-check when he heard a weak cry. "Help me..." Drawbar paused, his ears turned back, straining to find the source of the voice. He heard it croak out again, and he galloped over to the mill. In the darkness he couldn't tell the river from the mill, and had to rely on his ears to guide him. He slowly eased himself down the riverbank, keeping a hoof pressed against the mill wheel for support. "Help...me. Somepony... Please." "Willow? Willow!" Drawbar shouted, hearing a splash in response. "Dr-- Drawbar? Is that y-you?" "it's me, Willow! I'm here!" Drawbar responded, looking down into the water. There was a disturbance in the current, and he strained to see, opening his eyes as wide as he could to let in the most light. Lightning flashed, and for but a second he could see Willow clinging to the mill wheel, the current battering his grip. He wouldn't last much longer. "Willow, Willow! Grab my hoof, quick!" Drawbar pleaded, reaching down with his left hoof, gripping the wheel with his right. He pressed his left hoof to Willow's, who shakily latched onto Drawbar with both his forehooves. Drawbar pulled, but they were both too wet, and Willow slipped down. "Ah! AH! I'm slipping!" he cried out, his grip tightening. "It's OK, it's OK! I've got you! Let's try again. Try to get your hindlegs against something, like the mill wheel." Drawbar waited for Willow to adjust himself, feeling the buck's movements transferred through his grip onto the older train conductor. Drawbar dug his hindhooves deeper into the soft earth, trying to stay rooted in place. "Are you ready?" he asked. "Y-Yeah." Drawbar pulled hard again, shifting back with his hindlegs, pulling Willow up as he pushed off the wheel. The conductor reached the crux of the riverbank and Willow dug his hindlegs into the ground to push back as Drawbar was pulling up, helping the stronger buck pull him out. With his hindlegs together on even ground Drawbar reached down with both forehooves and dragged Willow up with a mighty jerk, the two of them collapsing back on to the muddy ground, Willow landing on top of Drawbar. They were safe. "Are you OK?" Drawbar whispered, stroking Willow's back to calm him as the younger colt lied on top of him. He was trembling hard, though Drawbar suspected he had a case of the shakes himself. Willow was crying again, utterly shaken. "Thank you... Thank you..." Willow whispered again and again through his sobs, his face to Drawbar's shoulder. "I've got you, you're OK" Drawbar said, letting Willow sob against him as he started calming down, his trembling slowing. They lied together in the mud for some time before Willow's sobs reduced to sniffles, and he pulled away from Drawbar, getting to his hooves and allowing the conductor to do the same. "Thank you..." Willow quietly said again. "I'm sorry, Willow, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for trotting off earlier, I'm sorry for upsetting you, and I'm sorry for getting you nearly killed twice in one day" Drawbar exclaimed, unable to look the younger colt in the eye. To his surprise Willow pulled him into a hug, which he returned with more than a little trepidation. "You didn't nearly get me killed, you saved ma life. Thank you, Drawbar" Willow told him, though Drawbar wasn't very convinced. "What are ya'll doin' out here anyway?" Willow quietly asked. "I... I came out here to look for you. I wanted to apologize, and your brother was concerned. I was acting like an idiot for stupid, immature reasons, and I hurt you. I'm a terrible pony" Drawbar declared, which prompted Willow to pull back from the hug, his hooves on Drawbar's shoulders. "Yer not a terrible pony, Drawbar. Yer a mighty kind and brave stallion. Ya saved ma life for Celestia's sake. Ah consider you a friend, Drawbar." I'd like us to be more than friends Drawbar mused, pushing that thought away. Now was not the time to tell Willow that; he needed comfort. And a warm, dry place. "Let's get you inside, Willow." Together the two of them trotted around to the front of the manor, Drawbar keeping a hoof around Willow to draw him close, trying to share as much warmth as he had with the freezing colt. They came up to the door and Willow pushed it open, finding Trimmer inside on a couch, staring at the doorway. As soon as it opened he got to his hooves, rushing over to help his brother. "Willow! Sweet Celestia, what happened?" Trimmer cried out, taking his brother from Drawbar's grasp and ushering him over to the fireplace, where he had a healthy blaze going. "I'll explain everything. Where's the nearest bathroom, so I can get him a towel?" Drawbar asked, shutting the front door behind him. Trimmer looked up as he sat on the floor with his brother, keeping him very close. He gestured to a blue door on the east side of the entry hall, and Drawbar rushed over to it. The house was extravagant, but there was no time to appreciate its beauty. Pulling a towel off one of the racks in the bathroom Drawbar brought it over to where the mill brothers were, wrapping it around Willow and drying him off with it, leaving it draped around him. "I'll put on some tea, then you can tell me what happened" Trimmer said, taking off for the kitchen. He came back just a few minutes later and settled down, levitating a steaming cup of the tea over to Willow, who took it with shaky hooves, thanking his brother. "Just start at the beginning" he told Drawbar, who took a moment to compose himself before beginning. "When I went out, I started at the mill..." After half an hour Drawbar had recounted the tale and Willow had calmed down and was fully dry and warm, though quite exhausted. The tea had long run out, and though the fire was still crackling it was dying down. "If'n it's alright with the two of you, I'd like t' get t' bed now" Willow wearily said, curled up on the floor with a wool blanket, having dispensed with the towel in favor of something more comfortable. And comforting. "Of course, Willow, I'll get you up to your room. Drawbar, I'd hate for you to go back out into that storm now that you're dry. How's about you stay here for the night? As a courtesy, and as a thank you for saving my brother" Trimmer offered. Drawbar though about it a moment, but he had one concern. "I'd love to, but I left my brother back at the train, and told him I'd be back in an hour. If I'm not back soon, he'll come looking and I'd hate for him to get wet" Drawbar explained. As if on cue there was a heavy knock on the door, and Trimmer was already moving to answer it. Drawbar craned his head back to watch as Trimmer pulled the door open, a very soaked Axle Box standing in the threshold. "Come in, come in" Trimmer said, allowing Axle to pass him. Axle raced over to his brother, who stood and gave him a hug. "Is everythin' alright?" Axle asked, earning a nod from both Drawbar and Trimmer. "Yes. I found Willow, and everything's OK. It was quite the...harrowing ordeal, but everypony's alright. Trimmer's offered me to stay the night here, rather than going back to the train. Trimmer, I'd hate to assume, but--" "Don't even ask, of course Axle can stay the night here as well. I'll have one of the guest rooms prepared shortly, I just need to get Willow up to his room first. Willow, would you like to--" Trimmer stopped when he saw his brother had already dozed off on the floor, curled up with the blanket, the side of his face pressed to the floor and his mouth slightly agape, his barrel rising and falling peacefully with his breaths. Drawbar thought he looked terribly adorable, even in spite of the night's events. "Um, I'll get him up to his room and get yours together. Just wait here you two" Trimmer stated, gently wrapping Willow in the glow of his magic and pulling him into the air, levitating him as he cantered up the grand stairs to the second floor, turning left through a set of doors and out of sight. Axle turned to face his brother, who looked spent and exhausted. "Brother, what happened?" Drawbar nodded wearily, his eyes transfixed on the floor, lost in thought. "I'll tell you in the morning, Axle, for now..." Drawbar trailed off, his head slowly lowering to the floor. his eyes closing, his breath slowing as he dozed off. Axle looked at his brother in concern, but decided to let the matter rest. For now, all he could do was let Drawbar sleep, and hope that in the morning all would be explained. And hope that everything would be alright.