Lost at Sea
Chapter 7: Prance
Admiral Biscuit
Her world had shrunk down to food and shelter and not much else, so she didn't see the land right away. Even as she drifted inexorably towards it, she didn't recognize it at first: It might have been a distant mass of clouds, after all.
As she got closer, though, it began to resolve into something different. The lines got sharper and perhaps a little bit more regular, and it became obvious that the waves she saw below her were relentlessly marching towards the shore. What was purple-grey became tan and green.
She got to her hooves and climbed to the very edge of her cloud, like a sailorpony standing on the bow. Off in the distance, she could see shorebirds patrolling the beach and occasionally diving down into the breaking sea.
It wasn't until she clearly saw the trellises and regular rows of a vineyard that she finally concluded that this was indeed actual, inhabited land.
Even so, it took her an hour to finally become willing to abandon her cloud for the last time, before she was absolutely certain that this wasn't some strange mirage or wishful thinking or a hallucination.
Her cloud was nearly over the land, and maybe if the weather patrol had been paying more attention, they would have spotted it and sent somepony to investigate.
Cloud glided down over the beach, and she held her hooves aloft for the longest time before her speed was finally spent and she touched down on a sandy beach.
Her landing was rather awkward, but was it any wonder? She stumbled when her hooves touched solid land for the first time in over five moons, and then she regained her balance and stood proudly at the border between beach and soil.
A few clumsy steps brought her to a cluster of beachgrass, and she stuck her head down and nibbled at the marram, the tender and delectable and salt-free marram grass.
She sniffed at the rich, loamy soil, and then rolled around on her back in pure pleasure, letting the land caress her.
I’m on land! Cloud was sure that being crowned Princess of Equestria wouldn’t feel as good as the feel of the soil shifting under her hooves, or the sweet pure smell of the earth.
It would only be a short flight to a farmhouse, but for now she was content to sniff around at the almost-forgotten plants, to have some smell in her nose that wasn’t salt or seaweed or fish, so she stayed where she was, sampling the land air that was teasing over her nostrils, trying to get a sense of the new land she’d found herself upon.
• • •
Her mind insisted that if she took her hooves off the ground, it might vanish, and she might find herself back on her cloud, so she walked on stumbling hooves, searching for anypony who could tell her where she was. She knew that there must be ponies nearby, because she was following a path through a vineyard.
Her leg muscles protested but she didn’t care. The occasional fall was more proof that the ground was real.
Even though it was rude, she ate a few grapes right off their vines and it was as if she’d never eaten fruit before. If her stomach hadn’t protested, she might have denuded the entire field.
The farmhouse was a trim building with stuccoed walls and a neat thatched roof. The smoke from the chimney was another smell she’d almost forgotten, but it drew her in.
It took a moment, but her knocks were finally answered by a deep blue colt.
His eyes widened, and he turned his head back into the house. “Il y a un poney fou à la porte!” he said, in a language she recognized. She even knew a little bit of Prench.
“J'ai Cloud Climber.”
“C’est un fou?” came another voice from within the house.
“On dirait qu'elle vit dans un fossé, elle a de l'herbe et de la boue dans son pelage et du sel dans sa crinière.”
She heard new, firmer hoofsteps on the hardwood floor, and presently a heavyset russet mare appeared at the door and gave her a critical look. “Je suis Auvergne. J'ai vu du bois flotté plus joli échoué sur la plage. D'où viens-vous?”
Cloud Climber flicked her ears. “A storm, a big storm. Um, vent. Poussé la mer.”
The mare nodded. “Entrez.” Then she turned to the colt. “Ariégeois, elle est mal en point. Va lui préparer un bain.”
Cloud Climber followed her into the house. She could smell stew, and her mouth watered at the thought of cooked food. Instead of being directed to the kitchen, however, she was led into a small sitting-room at the front of the house.
“Assis-toi là. Prends un peu de cognac. Ça va t'aider à te remonter.”
“Bonjour,” Cloud replied.
The couch was firm in a way that clouds weren’t, and as she stretched out, the pressure on her ribs felt strange.
She turned her head and studied her weatherblown tail and stained coat while feeling ashamed at how bad she looked. Maybe I should sneak out through a window and clean myself up some and then try again. But it was too late; her hostess had returned with a ceramic jug held in her mouth.
“Buvez-en. Juste un petit peu.” She gripped it in the crook of a hoof and pulled the cork out with her teeth, then presented the bottle for Cloud to sip.
The warm fire of the liquor had the desired effect, and it was followed by a thick slab of bread covered in butter and blueberry preserves.
Once the mare was satisfied that Cloud wouldn’t collapse from starvation, she led to the bathroom and helped her into the bathtub. The warm water and lavender-scented bath oil was too much for Cloud to take, and she began crying when the mare gently rinsed the salt out of her coat.
The bathwater had to be changed several times as she was washed and groomed by the mare and her son. They did the best that they could with her tangled mane and tail, but some knots were too thick to be removed with a brush, so they carefully cut them out
They fed her a dinner of thick, hearty barley stew and a mille-feuille that practically melted in her mouth before leading her back outside to a sturdy wooden hoof-stand, and the mare began trimming and filing Cloud’s overgrown hooves.
Their house had a spare bedroom which felt small and confining after the openness of the sea and sky, and if she hadn’t been so weak and tired she would have tried to push past her host so she could sleep outside. If there weren’t any clouds, the roof of the house would do.
The feel of diaphanous sheets and a heavy woolen blanket were almost too much for her to bear
She was safe at last.