//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: Finding Inspiration // by bahatumay //------------------------------// Wind Shear looked at the big pile of weeds he'd pulled a few days back and pursed his lips. Having long since decided against eating them, he had decided to just toss them later, but noticed that they'd dried to a light brown in the hot sun. I bet I could burn these, he thought, already mentally making plans for s’mores. So later that evening, he built a fire pit out of rocks, and stacked the weeds. He found a good stick and placed it atop the bag of marshmallows he'd purchased earlier. Then, he flew up, retrieved part of a cloud, compressed it until it was black and thundery, and then gently kicked it over the pit. It had been a small lightning bolt, but the pile of weeds burst into a massive fireball. Instinctively, he flew back; and now he was blinking away black spots a good twenty feet away from a brightly burning fire. He rubbed his face, and realized with mild horror that he no longer had eyelashes. Or the majority of his eyebrows. This was a terrible idea. But he'd started it, and so he resolved to finish it. He prepared his stick and marshmallows and held it as close to the massive flame as he could. This left him with a marshmallow that was on fire. Surprised, he dropped it, and scowled at it burning on the ground. He had not realized they could burn. This was really not going well. As it turns out, fires that burn hot at first burn out fast. By the time he'd put a second marshmallow on his stick, the weeds had burned to almost nothing, and so he ended up holding a stick with a cold marshmallow over tiny, rapidly-dying embers. He frowned. Not quite what he'd expected. As he examined the marshmallow, wondering if it were even worth it, his eyes suddenly focused on something pink in the distance. A familiar pony stood there, eyes narrowed, clearly judging him. “Hi,” he said sheepishly. He looked down, and held one out. “Marshmallow?” “Thought there was a forest fire,” Morning Glory said dryly. “Came to put it out.” “No, just… just me.” He tried to smile disarmingly, but she didn't seem to be buying it. He paused as something occurred to him. “Can you stare out flames?” She chuckled darkly, and the snakes of her mane slithered across each other. “Just animals. I've tried it on trees, but they don't seem to have eyes.” “What about potatoes?” She scowled. “No potatoes.” It was Wind Shear’s turn to smirk. “You've tried, haven't you?” “What can you do?” Morning Glory demanded. “Huh?” The snakes undulated, tongues flicking, apparently not pleased with the smell of smoke, as she continued. “It seems like every time I run into you, you're failing at something. Eating poisonous mushrooms, eating weeds that give ponies gas, unable to even build a simple fire-” “Hey, now,” Wind Shear protested weakly. “Fires are harder than they look.” Morning Glory shook her head disgustedly. “Tell you what. I'm going to go get some wood, build a fire, and roast a couple marshmallows. Your job while I'm gone is to sit there and come up with something you're not a complete loser at.” Wind Shear rolled his eyes as she left. He went back inside, half expecting her to not come back. But only ten minutes later, he caught sight of movement outside and came to watch. She had returned, bringing with her a few small bundles of wood. Standing near the fire pit, she knelt down and built what looked like a little pyramid of the taller sticks, put a small bundle of what looked like wood shavings inside, then built a larger pyramid on top of the first pyramid. Eschewing any lightning, she pulled a black rock out of a pouch, placed it on the ground and held it in place, and scuffed her other horseshoe against it. It spat sparks, which caught the smallest wood shavings on fire; and before long, the little fire was burning merrily. She sat down on the stump Wind Shear had been using as a chair. He opened his mouth to protest, as it was his only chair out here, but quickly decided against it. “Now we wait until it's burned down to embers, and then we roast the marshmallows.” She tapped her hooves together. “How did you do on your end?” “Huh?” “What don't you lose at?” Wind Shear pursed his lips, thinking back to the typewriter stashed haphazardly under his bed, gathering dust. It occurred to him that that list was currently very short, and included eating and sleeping. Actually, maybe he was a little too good at that first one. His ears drooped. How was that for a shot in the self-esteem? She shook her head. “Well, that’s depressing. Ok, simpler question. How did you get your cutie mark?” This one he could answer. “Telling a story in school.” She raised an eyebrow. “Telling a story?” she repeated flatly. “Not just any story,” Wind Shear said, slightly offended at her reaction. “It was a great story.” Even the snakes seemed to disbelieve him. He continued defensively. “It was a story I'd made out of the spelling words. Third grade. We were supposed to use our spelling words in sentences-” “I did go to school,” Morning Glory cut him off, ripping open the chocolate bag. “Uh, right,” Wind Shear said. He imagined a little filly Morning Glory, sitting in a desk in a little schoolhouse and taking a test, her snakes peering at other students’ tests over their shoulders as if trying to help her cheat. He shook his head. “Anyway, it was a story about two ponies, named Peach Pie and Whipped Cream.” Morning Glory raised an eyebrow. “Because we had two foals in our class named Peach Cobbler and Buttercream Frosting.” “Ok.” “And they each had a major crush on each other, and neither was brave enough to do anything about it. So I wrote a story with those names in it, using all the spelling words, about them going on a date. When I was done, everypony was staring, and, well, I had it.” “Decent,” she said, poking at the fire. It had died down a bit. “What happened to them?” Wind Shear bit his lower lip. “They broke up two weeks later,” he admitted. “On the swings. He pushed her off into the dirt. Serious business back then.” “Ha,” she said spitefully. “That’s love for you.” Morning Glory stood and speared a marshmallow on the end of the stick and held it over the embers. “Hey, now,” Wind Shear protested. “Love is great. I think,” he amended. “Love makes you weak,” she said bitterly, turning the marshmallow over. “Love makes you do stupid things. Love makes things make sense that shouldn't make sense. So love can take a long walk off a short pier, and if I ever see Princess Cadence I'll spit in her face.” She pulled the marshmallow out, examined it, and deemed it done. She built a s'more quickly, and opened her mouth wide, wider than a normal pony. She placed it on her tongue, closed her mouth- -and swallowed it whole. She didn't even try to chew it. Wind Shear blinked. That was unexpected. She'd looked mostly pony on that end. But both snakes and chickens swallowed their food, so he guessed it made sense. In some way. She caught him staring. “What?” she demanded as she violently speared another marshmallow on the stick. He shook his head. “Nothing, it's just… that's a really depressing take on things.” She scowled and held it over the fire. “It’s a realistic take,” she said. Wind Shear frowned. This was technically his livelihood she was insulting, retirement aside. “It's not like that, though.” “Says the pony who's never actually been in a real relationship.” Wind Shear blinked. Harsh, but undeniably true. “How did-?” She threw a marshmallow at him, and it bounced off his forehead. “It's not hard to see,” she said, swallowing the marshmallow and throwing the stick into the fire. “You are a colossal idiot.” She jumped off the stump and took off. It wasn't until right before she disappeared from view that he realized she had taken the rest of his marshmallows with her.