//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: Opening Celestia's Heart // by Knight of Cerebus //------------------------------// "Now then. Got the whippersnappers out of our manes. Mind if I say a piece?" Granny settled her chin against her hooves, watching Celestia evenly. "You may feel free to speak whatever you wish around me." Celestia was attempting not to seem rigid. She snuck a glance up at her drooping ear and frowned. She really did need to do something about that. "Ye want to be my friend, and I'm mighty flattered, but I'm a mare of facts and the facts are not workin' in our favour. It's been a long time since this old mare's been up to the sorts of things Applejack gets up to with Twilight and her little friends. I'm creaky, I'm achy, days seem shorter and shorter all the time. An' of course I'm ornery whenever somethin' don't sit right with me, no matter who ya are." Celestia laughed at that last bit. "That part I am very much familiar with." "An' I'm gonna hold it against ya that it took as much as it did to convince ya to really talk with me. Ain't no two ways about it. I lived a full life, had a full family you coulda known. But you passed that by. We coulda shared that together, Majesty. An' only now you wanna try sharin' anythin' at all? I won't say it don't hurt just for yer sake." "And I will try my best to make up what I can." Celestia sighed. "Be the friend I should have been so very many years ago." Granny leaned forward in her chair. "What I'm sayin' is it won't be easy. These are just the facts of the way it is now. Some days I won't be in health to see ya, and yer gonna have ta live with that. Sometimes the farm is gonna be too busy on account o' we don't have half the family helpin' no more, and yer gonna have ta live with that." Granny looked melancholy a moment. "Wish I coulda introduced you to my husband. My children. All that's over the hill now. I'm not long till I join 'em. Ya picked a mighty fine time for all this, Celestia. We missed all the golden days, and now I'm just a tired old pony waitin' to pass on the torch." "I understand." Celestia shut her eyes. "More than you know, I do." "Why'd you always come to visit me in person when we was snaggin' land anywho? Ya coulda just signed our papers and been done with us." Granny sighed. She knew the answer coming, but it was not one she wanted. "I may not have done my best extending a hoof of friendship to your family, but..." Celestia voice dropped to a whisper. "I wished to. Believe me, I did." Granny nodded along, her face wrinkled with memories that could have been. Celestia picked up a fragile smile. "But we aren't over that hill yet, are we?" "Well..." Granny considered. The two elders sat in silence. The only motion in the room was the slow drifting of dust kicked from the gnarled floorboards, dazzling sunlight making the ancient grains of wood seem brilliant and beautiful. Granny Smith broke the silence at last. "Twilight ever tell you 'bout the time Apple Bloom got herself stuck in a taffy machine?" Celestia looked up at this. "I don't believe so, no..." "Well, I was on my way to the center of town, when what do I see but a giant walking sheet of candy with three little pairs of eyes stickin' out of it. It wandered this way, then that. Then this way, then that." Granny Smith demonstrated the living candy wad's wobbling movements with a swaying of her hoof. "'Ventually it almost sucked the poor mailmare in, so I ended up roundin' up that crazy baking pony and she ate the whole thing in one gulp. Fished out three little fillies afterwards, the lot of 'em quivering like they'd seen a cockatrice in the hen house. One of 'em piped up and said they didn't get their cutie marks in bein' eaten neither!" Celestia cracked a smile. That did sound like Pinkie Pie. "At least they weren't capable of setting you on fire." Celestia added. "You'd be surprised." Granny feigned a haunted look. "The little folks can be a right terror, they can." "Let us not forget the big ones. One of Twilight's friends once tried to kidnap my pheonix under the belief I was a negligent bird owner. It took us the better part of the afternoon to find her, and Philomena seems to have rather enjoyed toying with the would-be birdsitter a bit too much. I sometimes find her hiding in the wings or mane of a very flustered pegasus with a yellow coat or a pink mane when she's feeling mischievous." Celestia gave a long-suffering sigh. "I haven't managed to make her understand that not every pegasus with a similar colour scheme is secretly Fluttershy in disguise. At least I seem to have disabused her of the idea of Fluttershy being able to change genders." Granny chuckled. "And that ain't even gettin' into the half of it. Whatever else this time may be, it's darn near the zaniest my life's ever been." Celestia's smile grew more comfortable. "I confess I have not been immune to the eccentricities of the era. Recently it's come to my attention that the position of royal chef has a high turnover rate." "Eh? Why's that?" "They inevitably begin to feel slighted by the royal baker. It's no secret I have a sweet tooth, and I may have a...habit...of sneaking in desserts before their meals. It bruises their egos more than their careers, but the knowledge that their efforts will inevitably be trumped by another's frustrates any dedicated professional." Celestia blushed, a shy grin on her face. "And I may do the sneaking more often than is socially acceptable. " "My, ain't you a rebel?" Granny rolled her eyes. "I ever tell you 'bout the time I bet the farm to a couple 'o con artists what wanted to use some fancy magic machine to make apple ciders?" "You did not!" "Darn tootin' I did! Applejack was lookin' ready to jump me the whole way through the bet--till Twilight did some fancy paperwork and suddenly we was joined by all her friends. Didn't think that filly had it in her to con a con artist, but there we go." Celestia paused. "I don't believe I've ever heard this story." "Not one AJ likes to tell often, on account of she don't fancy those two boys in the showboaters much and they tried pullin' the wool over my eyes a couple times since. But we won in the end, and Applejack's been good 'bout keepin' those two troublemakers off our property ever since." Granny sighed. "Darn proud of her, too." "And what exactly was it Twilight did to con the two ponies in question?" Celestia raised an eyebrow. "Twilight's better known for getting tricked into letting Spike stay up till midnight more than pulling her own fast ones over in Canterlot." "Well, she asked those two if'n she and her friends could count as honorary family fer the contest. Waited till those two had a big enough lead that it seemed impossible for us to come back, so they waved her off and she got a little contract out. Got 'em to sign just in time to pull us all ahead." Granny snickered. "The looks on the faces of those two snakes in pony suits was worth every drop o' cider." "She would use paperwork." Celestia gave a long-suffering sigh. "Some days I end up getting letters requesting more. I honestly believe she considers bureaucracy fun! How she does it I will never know." "You sayin' ya don't like yer job?" Granny's eyes widened a little at the thought. "There was a time when my job was not signing papers and placing stamps on proposals. I remember times when I was able to go out on adventures like Twilight and her friends, times when Luna and I were simply community heads more than icons of worship." Celestia looked out at the sunlit window. "But no, I do not dislike my job." She turned her head and looked back at Granny with a smile, her face framed in sunlight. "Rather, I love it. Seeing my little ponies thrive and blossom under the government I run is worth every sacrifice. I take pride in the country we have established, and in the work I have put into making it that way." "But ya miss the good ol' days when that didn't mean sittin' around in a stuffy office all day." Granny considered. "Even the most rewarding of work comes with trade-offs. While those days of excitement and adventure were more to my own personality, more ponies suffered under those same conditions than they do in this present day. And that will always be more important to me than a good thrill ever was." Celestia turned back to face Granny fully. "Still, you are not wrong that I miss the simpler days sometimes, when I let nostalgia take me." "Heh. Sometimes I still wish I was a youngin' fightin' with timberwolves fer a place to plant my first little appleseeds. 'Course it's easy to say that knowin' it all turned out fer the best in the end. But it was nice bein' the start of somethin' new, not the last of somethin' old." Granny sighed. "You know, Missie..." Celestia began. "Huh?" Granny blinked a few times. "Sorry, was losin' myself a little." Celestia nodded. "I appreciate the sentiment. I was going to say that it isn't too late to reclaim that feeling, though it may seem that case." She looked out to see if Applejack and Twilight were still there. It did not seem they were. "Even when you have lost everything, when you are exhausted and feeble and filled with pain, it is not impossible to start anew." Granny seemed unconvinced. But Celestia knew the mare needed this. Beneath that hardened shell was still the core of a stubborn and steadfast pony, full of life and mischief. She needed to pull that back out. "I said I understood more than you know, and I meant that." Celestia felt her wings tense against her side. This was not a pleasant subject, or one she brought up lightly. But for a friend as old as Missie, especially a friend she had failed, she would brave the memories. She would crack that brittle shell of elegance and show the fire that hid underneath. "I still remember quite well the first year of my monarchy." She forced out the last word like it was a lungful of ash. "Learning to control the moon, relocating the capital from the ruins of our old one, doubling my workload to accommodate the recent loss." She decided that 'living with the guilt' was best left unsaid. "I woke up exhausted every morning, having not done enough and with still more to be added the moment I left my bed. For four weeks I had to use magic to help myself breathe, owing to a wound to the chest I'd suffered in combat. By the sixth month of leveraging two astral bodies I suffered from magic exhaustion, and even my most basic levitation suffered awful tremors and periodic failures. "I tell you this not to depress you or to take from your current state, and I would appreciate your honesty if I have stepped out of line. I tell you of my prison to explain the means of my escape." Her eyes lit with memories. "Something miraculous happened not long after the seventh month. I found a pair of phoenixes outside my palace worrying over an egg. I had had a meeting in the morning. I cannot remember all the details. Something about winter months with the...yaks? Griffons? I was exhausted. But the sound of anxious parents drew me from my chambers. I found a cracked egg between the pair. I do not know to this day why they chose me, or how their egg had been cracked. But I knew I could supply it with a warmth not even phoenixes could. "For three more months I served as an equine incubator, the magical bond I shared with the sun allowing me to help the parents keep the fragile infant alive. I would heat the egg when one of the phoenixes came to visit. Ponies complained that it was disrupting evening court, which at that point was held in a chamber overlooking the gardens for space reasons. I told them that it was part of a therapy to keep my magical strength up. That was the last I heard of the issue. The parents watched the whole way through. They knew their egg needed saving. What they did not know was that their egg was saving me. It felt like I was truly accomplishing something, instead of simply floundering in the aftermath of a loss. At first it was small--I read some books on diets and medicines that would allow me to replenish my strained magic supply--and then it grew larger. I began sleeping better. I started exercising again. As the phoenix neared hatching, I began to prepare little presents for the parents. Bits of fabric from Luna's old pillows. Golden bobbles leftover from chandeliers that had been destroyed by her magic. "Eventually the phoenix hatched. A tiny, naked little skeleton of a creature, shivering against the feather coatings of her parents. She was beautiful despite it all. My darling Philomena." Celestia's eyes shined with radiant tears, the memory glowing like the sun itself within her. "I helped them feed her. Supplied water for her from the streams. She grew up before my eyes into a lifelong companion, developed a penchant for mischief and a fondness for exploration that I loved to cultivate. It saved me, Missie. I could not save my sister, protect Equestria from her inevitable return or bring back the beautiful country we'd ruled together. But I could save one little phoenix. Watch her grow into something splendid. And that was enough." "Princess!" Twilight called from outside. Celestia wiped her eyes and turned towards the window. "Something strange is happening to Applejack and I's Cutie Marks! You might want to take a look." Celestia gave Granny an encouraging look, then stepped outside to investigate with a 'pardon me. I just want to make sure it isn't dangerous'. "Coming!" She called out, opening the door. Granny considered everything Celestia had said. She considered what her world consisted of at the moment. Most of the farm duties were left to the grandchildren. Quiet work indoors was most of her life now. Sewing and woodwork and reading to Applebloom. What was it she had lost? And where had it come from, to have gone before? What had that spark been? She closed her eyes and sifted through the days of her long life, searching. Between the days of her stuffy farmhouse childhood and her stuffy farmhouse old age came memories of a rewarding life. Adventure. Out in the woods, exploring ravines and climbing fallen trees away from the safety of a humble orchard and a cozy furnace with some colt her parents had hated. A dashing smile and a wink that was just for her. A dance for two that wove between oaks and under fallen pines and across fields of brambles, shared with dragonflies and bluebirds and set in the wildest part of Equestria. Choice boulders, shimmering streams and rare flowers their flirtation. The tangles of branches their refuge. Bells and vows and a bond that would last two lifetimes. Drive. A far-flung dream of the greatest orchard in the nation, built on the edge of the most dangerous woods on the continent. Fire and fang clashing in the night. A war for space with snarling beasts that stalked the darkness and could crush a pony between their claws or their teeth, fought with torches, wits and pitchforks against giant claws and saber teeth. By day, a different kind of battle waged between field and forest, her and her family's will against the Everfree's. Axes and hoes taming roots and trunks, vines and creepers claiming sheds, floors and ceilings as quickly as they'd been able to put them up. Mania. A house in chaos. Long hours of the night haunted by crying, brief hours of the day ghosted by peace and joy and a quiet, fierce pride. Fearful spells of sickness that claimed to snatch the fragile life she'd given so much for from her at any time. A tiny pony she'd brought into the world all at the heart of it, growing bigger and more alive with every passing day. Growing. A farm, a village and a family taking root all at once. Long hours in the sun, long hours with her son. Growing together, meeting new friends who added to their little orchard and the community it had started. Days spent with saplings covered in brilliant pink blossoms that bore no fruit. A farm became a neighbourhood, a field became an orchard and a colt became a stallion. Apples trees yielded fruit, contracts with the locals yielded profit and a marriage yielded grandchildren. By the end of it a town surrounded a estate surrounded a family. Then it had grown different. Lost something. Somehow the focus had shifted, and even in the days before she'd lost them all, one by one, something had fallen away. What did they share, those better days of old? Part of something new, she'd said. But wasn't her sewing and knitting 'something new'? She'd never done that before at one point and it still somehow rung hollow when she compared it to what she once had. It wasn't just a search for something new, then. Those days been about things worth more than spare blankets. She snorted at the thought of even comparing. Applebloom liked her rug designs, sure, but it wasn't the world's ending if she made an ugly one. But more than that. There was no great celebration over a pattern that worked. No great sorrow at the absence of a new set of curtains. Bring a rug into this world and ponies would politely wipe their hooves on it. Bring a child, a farm, a community and a family into this world... Now that was worth doing. Celestia re-entered in time to see Granny's wrinkled, tired face overtaken by Missie's hard look of determination. "Applejack and Twilight have a matter regarding magic and the Elements of Harmony to attend to. They say they will remain in touch, but may be gone for a few days." Missie nodded. "You reckon yer good fer a walk?" ／人◕ ‿‿ ◕人＼ Whitetail Woods was a bit of a jog for the two older ponies, but Celestia had long legs and eternal youth on her side, and Missie had that shine in her eyes that told any who bothered to look that she was on a warpath. The only thing that even began to slow her down was her hip, which she'd accommodated as best she could. A saddlebag on the opposite side helped shift weight off her back leg, and she made sure to shift her weight as she walked to avoid straining the arthritic joint unduly. Celestia did not spend time guessing at where they were going or why, instead enjoying the chance to stroll beside an old friend across Ponyville's beautiful countryside. She sucked in a breath through her nose, letting the scents of the dirt pathway they were strolling along overwhelm her senses. While the gardens of Canterlot were lush and exotic, they were also closely monitored, strictly controlled and tamed for the benefit of their viewing public. It had been ages since Celestia had taken in the proper smell of fresh earth. She savoured it like it was the smell of baked goods pulled straight from the oven. There were no Neighponese Hornets or Atlas Moths among the insects of Ponyville's outskirts, but the honeybees and cabbage moths that danced and darted between the flowers were not carefully contained within magical fields designed to keep them from leaving the tropical environment of the gardens. There were no Bird of Paradise Flowers or Angel's Trumpets shoved proudly in her face, but the lavenders and the daisies around the pathway grew wherever and however they wanted, giving her gentle reminders of her favourite pony and brightening her day. Missie broke into a light, chipper whistle and tilted her head to watch the clouds. Celestia followed her gaze, enjoying a blue sky free to show its wide expanse of infinite potential without the shadows of the Canterlot skyline constricting it. Celestia picked up the tune. She didn't whistle particularly well, but a certain alicorn she knew insisted she was the best singer she had ever heard, and so she broke into a quiet hum to help carry the tune further. She did not know the song, but the melody was pleasant and the chorus seemed to beg for a background. The opening to Whitetail Woods was far more pleasant than the maw of thorns and tangled branches that served as an entrance to the Everfree. Birds fluttered through the trees. Squirrels bounced across the pathway in a twitchy, panicked gait that reminded her of an alicorn she knew who insisted she was the best singer she had ever heard. Missie seemed to be taking all this in very differently from herself. To Celestia this was time off to relax and explore the kingdom she so loved. To Missie this seemed to be the first step in some great journey. She cast her gaze from tree to tree, occasionally raising a hoof (never on the side with the bad hip) to compare alongside the trees. Her keen and fiery eyes darted from one set of branches to the other, ears twitching and swiveling at each and every sound. Celestia wished to ask what the project Missie had set for herself was, but the intensity of the other pony's focus suggested that disruptions would be unwelcome. So she held her tongue and enjoyed the gentle spring breeze against her coat. They began their way towards the forest's center, past collections of cherry, fir, maple and mulberry trees. Celestia's presence drew the occasional stare from ponies who were enjoying the scenic walk for themselves. Celestia tried not pay them heed, instead focusing on Missie and making sure she was in good condition to continue. Her steps had turned more into limps than into strides, but she still had that determined look on her face. Granny hobbled more than stepped off the path and made her ponderous way towards what looked to be a particularly dense patch of trees. Celestia did not understand the intent, but still followed her nonetheless. Granny continued to limp, now stumbling and fighting her way across the uneven ground in a battle that looked soon to be lost. Celestia pursed her lips. What to do? Missie could seriously injure herself before admitting what was wrong, but disrespecting her free agency and dignity would undermine any newfound goodwill or optimism they had been building towards. She had to support Missie in a way that was close without being forceful. She had to provide the leg Missie needed. But that level of trust and openness? And so soon? Could she really be so earnest with a pony she'd wronged for so many years? Would her attempt at compassion not seem hypocritical and condescending in light of her past attitudes? She ran a hoof along her peytral, feeling the gentle slope of the gems that had embedded themselves there. The feeling of the dull, ancient Element of Magic and the newborn, brilliant Element of Generosity both fed into her resolve. Under hoof lay the best evidence she could ask for that harmony could triumph across boundaries she'd thought impassable before, proof that maybe ponies were worth trusting in again. Proof that Missie wasn't the only tired old mare who could start a new life for herself. She made her decision Celestia fell behind so that she could reposition herself. She slid up next to Missie, making sure she was walking adjacent to her aged companion's bad hip and that her step matched with Missie's own. She pulled one wing up and leaned back, signalling her intention without forcing it upon the hobbling elder. Missie did not notice at first, focused on her journey towards the clearing as she was. But eventually her march crawled to a hault, pain and arthirits crippling her attemps to keep moving forward. She searched for Celestia, her memories of similar expeditions with Applejack or Big Mac leaving her expecting a lecture about straining herself and a joyless return escort to that dismally safe farmhouse on the healthier pony's back. What she saw instead was a friend offering her a helping hoof. She closed her eyes and breathed out. In that moment, she wasn't a tired old mare held together by her grandchildren. She wasn't a bag of aching joints waiting for age to finally catch up with her. She was twenty-three years old and had tripped on a stone on her way down a valley in the Everfree. Her mane was a mess, her lips were caked with mud and her body was bruised by the rocks that had jabbed into her on the way down. And a pony in a stetson with a berry red coat was offering her his hoof, barely holding back a laugh at the state she was in. But it was okay. Because she was going to get up again. She took both of the hooves, present and past, and back in the modern day she leaned herself against Celestia. The limping seemed to grow fainter. Missie closed her eyes, her jaunty whistle returning, and Celestia caught the faintest of flickers of orange light filling her peripheral vision. She could feel the tug against her peytral. But she would think on that later. For now she was thinking on the feeling of an old friend walking by her side. Eventually they reached Missie's goal. A stand of towering oak trees surrounded them, gathered like worshipers around a single large rock that had deposited itself in the middle of the forest. The two of them curled up upon it, and Missie opened her eyes, the fire returning. Out of her satchel she pulled a tattered journal and a tape measure. She eyeballed the trees, their roots, the ground around them and the rock she was sitting on. She began to scribble furiously, muttering about tubers and soil condition. Celestia did not pry. Instead, she focused on the simple joy of her own sun against her coat. It was rare she got to enjoy her own handiwork. She inspected her hooves, which she noted with some satisfaction were dusted a light brown by the pathway's dirt. Wouldn't that be cause for alarm among the nobility? She chuckled to herself. "'Bout time I told ya what I've got cookin' in this stubborn ol' head o' mine, eh?" Missie cut her off from her thoughts, closing the book for a moment. "I was rather curious." Celestia surveyed the forest, wondering what Missie saw that she did not. "I imagined you were interested in exploring, but I'm still not entirely sure to what end. Another branch of Sweet Apple Acres?" Missie shook her head. "Think there's enough orchards goin' 'round Equestria at this point. Matter o' fact, I think we've come a little too far in that direction, if'n you catch my meanin'. Ponies gettin' a little too enthusiastic with their axes these days." She surveyed the treetops, focusing on a robin with a set of branches in its mouth. It settled upon a collection of twigs and mud that formed an even bowl shape and set to work weaving the branches into the makeshift basket. The little bird twisted the sticks into a buffer against any weight that might be placed on the side of the future nest, finishing its job with a tug of its beak. Satisfied with its work, the little bird flapped its wings with enthusiasm and warbled its triumph to any females who might be watching. Missie continued. "I don' regret what me an' my husband did to the Everfree. Was a right terror when we first came across it, filled with all that fancy dark magic and unnatural critters like them timberwolves. But it weren't the only forest in Equestria and these days it seems like everypony wants to take an axe to any group o' trees they can git their hooves on. Now I don't mind when that's fer feedin' a community like Misses Carrot Top here in Ponyville or my nephew down in Appleloosa, but I'd rather nip this cuttin'-frenzy in the bud than see them forests what made my fillyhood get chopped down so snakeoil ponies like those boys in showboaters can make a quick buck on a half-baked farm." She slid down from the rock gingerly, making her way towards the trees. "So I want ta see if I can find some way to make them stuffy ponies in Canterlot what tend to have the power ta change things care about the trees here in little ol' Ponyville." Celestia smiled, soaking in the warmth of the sunbeams cutting through the clearing. "A very admirable goal. I have also noticed that in our haste to industrialize we have sometimes neglected the natural world around us, and had been hoping a movement to preserve our natural heritage might begin for some time." "Well, that should make it right easy then! 'Tween you and me we shouldn't take half a day to git a couple bills passed keepin' forests like this up fer ponies to go adventurin' in forever!" Missie pulled out her tape measure and began wrapping it around the trunks and the roots of the trees in question. "I am afraid it's not that simple." Celestia gave a chuckle. "I cannot give my official backing to such an upheaval of the status quo without momentum behind the movement. If I were to let my personal feelings on the matter override my respect for the wishes of other ponies I would be seen to be overbearing and selfish, and that would breed contempt for and resistance toward my government in the private sector where there is currently cooperation and harmony. Furthermore, as you are a personal friend, I myself would have a direct conflict of interest were I to rule on the matter. I would have to defer your request to my ministers and allow them to decide, and if I were to endorse you, it would have to be in private, away from the press." "'Sounds to me like that's a fancy way of sayin' yer scared of what other ponies will think of ya stickin' up fer a friend." "In this case it is not simply nerves, Missie." Celestia emphasized her point by slipping off the rock and trotting over to the other pony. "You would not let a friend grow illegal substances on your farm, would you? As a pony, I will continue to try my best to be more open and supportive to you and the others I consider my friends. As a career mare, I would not allow even Twilight to demolish a noble's villa to make room for a public library, even if that would be more beneficial to ponies in the long run. It would be an abuse of another's rights and my power. Using my authority to stomp out legal business operations I felt were a detriment to our community would be much the same. No, the change must be pushed for legally, and by my fellow ponies as much as by myself." "So yer sayin' that it'd be getting us both in trouble if'n you were to pitch in?" Celestia shook her head. "Not entirely. I cannot use my reputation or my administrative powers to help your case. That does not mean I cannot help you at all. I am happy to assist you in making your measurements and compiling your arguments, things a friend would do for another friend. I simply cannot let that trickle into my job." "Why didn't ya just say so?" Celestia thought the better of reminding Missie she had already tried. "Here, hold this." Missie thrust the notebook at her. "I'm gonna call out some numbers and I want ya to write 'em all down. Y'see that list in the corner?" True to her word, there were indeed numbers in the corner "Each row has a number, and each number is a tree. When I call out a number, it'll be fer the tree I'm facin'. Ya can also see I got three columns with labels on all of 'em. I'll tell ya which numbers go where by callin' out the column name 'fore I call out the number. Ya get all that?" Celestia gave a nod. Missie began to shout measurements, and Celestia dutifully scribbled down each of them. In the moments in between they carried a conversation on the purpose of their task. "My husband, rest his soul, pioneered this business when we'd just bought the Everfree properties. Twenty-eight! Said that the size o' the trees'd tell us how big our own apple orchard'd be. That it'd tell us the type o' soil we were dealin' with and what all was in the forests around here. He was right as rain, so this all outta tell me how well these here trees are growin' an' if the soil's any good fer them. Seventy-seven!" Missie moved on to the next tree, stretching the tape measure out to take note of the span between it and its closest neighbour. They kept going like that for a while, with Missie calling out numbers in between explaining how she'd used conditions in the Everfree to her advantage when growing her orchard. Eventually there was a pause, Missie muttering something under her breath and then widening her eyes. Missie smacked a hoof to her forehead. "Consarnit! Forgot to divide by type o' tree again. Conifers is mighty different from deciduous in how they grow, but I can't ever seem to remember puttin' it down no matter how old I get! Every single time, I swear, since the day I was born." She continued to mutter to herself, with the words "Now we'll have ta start from square one!" making it to Celestia's ears intact. "Perhaps we might indicate type of tree with an icon? Like a circle for deciduous or a triangle for conifers?" Missie blinked. "Why not just make a little doodle of 'em?" Celestia blushed at this. "I was...never particularly good at drawing..." This earned a chuckle, and a slap against her withers. "Lands' sakes, pony! I ain't expectin' Picassoats from ya!" Celestia thought the better of pointing out Picassoats' style was abstract and that it'd be useless as a diagnostic tool for trees anyway. "I can do my best." She concluded. Missie went back to the measuring. "What made you choose this as a new beginning, anyway?" Celestia stuck out her tongue, noting with some frustration that she could not even make the stems connect to the center of the triangles effectively. Missie put a hoof to her lips. "Thinkin' about worthy causes, I s'pose. What all ya said about yer bird helped me ta pick. She was somethin' fragile and lively that nopony was protectin' and ya just felt like ya had to swoop in. Forests are like that these days. The big woods filled with dangerous critters and dangerous magic aren't much present anywhere but the frontiers, and that just leaves the side of the woods what made me want to explore the Everfree in the first place. Delicate spots full o' life that have wonders ponies ain't botherin' to explore what with all the processin' and packagin' they wanna do before they even know what they have." "Hmm. And what sort of wonders do forests hold that you could market to a growing economy?" "Yer startin' to sound like Filthy. That ain't the point." Missie pulled out the tape and measured another root. "Seventeen!" Celestia frowned at her pitiful attempts at doodling a deciduous tree's circular boughs, but wrote down the number regardless. "Perhaps not to you and I, but in swaying the ponies of industry practical applications will be key." "Well then, take zap apples as an instance." Missie wrapped the tape measure around a trunk and peered at the number. "Fifty-nine! Only appear for the one day a year, but they make jam what can revitalize a pony's magic and help heal bones and muscles when they're injured. Use it sometimes when Big Mac sprains himself workin' the fields, if'n the season is right. And that's just one example." Celestia smiled, her pencil working furiously while she listened. "One might also argue that once secrets like those have been uncovered, the forest will have lost its merit and can be replaced with farms instead." "What kinda crazy pony would argue that?!" Missie looked at Celestia like she had declared the sun might be more useful if it was tied down and harvested for sunlight. "The kind of crazy pony that your petition will have to stand against." "Well if'n that's how little thought they're puttin' into it my point is good as proved. We let the Everfree stand alongside our orchard for a consarn reason! Still findin' new ways to put it to good use to this day!" Missie stretched the tape between two trunks. She narrowed her eyes, then smiled. "One hundred and sixty four!" Celestia floated the pencil up to the table to fill in a number, then returned to writing. "And even if'n we weren't, forests are always changin'. Ya can't schedule 'em like an office or a factory. Entirely new resources might be there one year dependin' on what manages to grow and what doesn't. Now we can help this some by managin' the weather and the seasons like we do and tryin' to help what we'd like to see more o' to grow, but we can't make it run like fancy clockwork." Missie paused, leaning down to measure the roots of another of her target trees. "Twenty-one!" Then she stood back up. "Ya gotta trust ponies what know the forest to do their jobs and let the trees have room to grow naturally." "But in that case wouldn't it be more efficient to replace them with something more consistent?" "Ya been listenin' to any o' what I been sayin'? What these woods produce ain't replaceable to begin with. Zecora's been out in the Everfree makin' medicines from plants what only grow in the shade o' trees. Fluttershy's been helpin' us to raise bat colonies what eat fruit in the Everfree and fertilize the soil on Sweet Apple such that we tripled our harvest this season. Ponies starvin' and gettin' sick on account o' some city folks tryin' ta tell us how to do our jobs ain't just insultin', it's outright dangerous! If'n ya want ta chop down all of yer trees ta make room fer processing plants ya might as well tear down a bunch a banks and plantations while yer at it for all the good it'd do ya." "Of course, if we use only the Everfree as an example, we run the risk of marginalizing the other woods." Celestia continued to scribble. "Sixty-four!" Missie turned back to face her. "That's what we're here in Whitetail fer. To make sure we kin find some things in these here groves what'll make ponies see this is true o' forests all across Equestria, not just the Everfree." Missie measured out the gap between the last of the oak trees arranged around the boulder. "Two hundred and thirteen!" The farmer let the tape measure snap back into place with a 'click' and turned to face Celestia. "But the good news on that is that I already got a couple o' ideas fer what to do with Whitetail here." "From the measurements?" "Aye, an the tree types, even if'n I keep forgettin' to take a look at that on account o' I'm plum stupid sometimes." Missie waved Celestia over, and the alicorn dutifully rose and walked over to the cluster of roots Missie was standing over. Missie pointed to the trees, specifically singling out the leaves and their knobbed, rounded branching patterns. "What we got here are some healthy oak trees here in the deep woods. They're growin' apart properly and they're a healthy size and shape fer their age. The little groves ponies walk along around the path help protect these trees, which grow only where there's shade to keep away the fast-growers they compete with. The rocky soil o' the clearing combined with the presence o' the oaks and the climate o' Ponyville all means one thing--these trees'd be fine truffle-producin' trees. The little pods'd be helpin' to fix the nutrients fer the trees and that'd help 'em to grow." "Truffles?" Celestia blinked. "In Ponyville?" "Aye, and not in the Everfree, neither. Soil there is infused with magic what inspires strangler plants and sunlight competition like nopony's business. But these here trees are growin' in rocky soil that prevents that kinda cutthroat scramblin' for sunlight, lettin' 'em sit and grow natural truffle groves what'd make the folks in Canterlot have a field day. And that ain't all. I saw mulberries in the thinner parts on the way in. Next time I come around here I'm plannin' on takin' a look, but if we cultivate 'em right we might be able to get materials fer Misses Rarity that'd bump up her Boutique's outfits mighty fine fer half the cost she'll be payin' right now." "How so?" Celestia continued to write, her attention more focused at Rarity's mention and ideas already forming in her head. "With the right environment the mulberries'll be housin' silkworms. We kin farm the silkworms on our own turf, but we'll need 'em to grow in the Whitetail itself if'n we want a sustainable bunch of them on account o' Sweet Apple Acres don't have the right soil type for mulberry trees. So we'll need to look after them trees and the worms they's feedin', but if we can, Ponyville could start producin' silk what would rival the kinds they got in Manehattan, and Rarity wouldn't have ta import it, neither." "Provided that these mulberry trees actually can support silkworms." "Right." Missie nodded, waving a hoof. "Gettin' ahead of myself. But the point is there's potential here what nopony's tapped before and reasons ta keep this and other forests protected from the likes o' fancy ponies from Manehattan and Las Pegasus what think they know best fer everypony in the towns they've been clearin'. And once we assemble a good case fer it we can actually get to lobbyin' them ta stop! If'n only I could think how to say it right for them noble-types in Canterlot." "You already have." Celestia flipped through the pages in the notebook, a playful smile forming. "But if you ever need a reference, I believe I took down most of what you were saying." She gave a wink. "You did tell me to take notes." "Eh, wha' now?" Missie blinked, a bit of Granny's quiet confusion slipping back into her features. And then she realized Celestia's ploy. Hadn't she said she was on Missie's side? So what had been all that nonsense she'd been spouting? "Ya tricked me! Them arguments ya raised weren't none o' what ya really thought, you just wanted ta hear me yammerin' about what I'd tell them ponies in Canterlot so ya could get it all on paper!" "Guilty as charged." Celestia chuckled. "I may have enjoyed myself at your expense a little, too. Your passion is very," she paused, making a point to search for the right word, "admirable." Missie continued her glare for a moment, but upon seeing Celestia give a playful toss of her head, it turned into a snort, then a chuckle when Celestia raised an exaggerated eyebrow, and then at last a full laugh when Celestia leaned in to inspect her further. "Serves me right fer talkin' to ya like you was one of them snooty noble types!" "You did say you wished me to be more expressive." Celestia shrugged her wings, fanning through the notebook until it was properly closed and then slotting her pencil neatly between the pages. She levitated it back to Missie with a proud nod of her head. "One thing most will learn quickly is that Philomena is not the only one with a penchant for mischief." "So all o' that roundabout about yer job and the other ponies and whatnot was just gettin' me comfortable enough with fightin' my point that ye could take it down for me?" "Not entirely. Everything I told you was the truth, and all of the arguments I raised will be brought to bear against you. But yes, I did have the ulterior motive of structuring your arguments, and of course I was always interested in seeing you succeed in making them." "An' you were plannin' to tell me all this when?" "Exactly when I told you." Celestia stretched out her wings, taking in a breath of the fresh forest air and smiling up at the beautiful blue sky. "Nothing I said was untrue. I cannot help you directly, but yes, I absolutely can and will help you with your arguments and try to support what you do. I took the notes you asked and gave the advice I promised, and called attention to what I was doing exactly when it needed calling attention to." She blushed a little. "Unorthodox as my methods were." Missie only laughed harder at this. "Gotta watch this one with her words, I do. Yer a clever pony, Majesty. And I'll be thankin' ya fer yer help when I get back to the farm ta start tallyin' up all of them arguments ya helped me figure through." Missie put the notebook back and turned towards the clearing's opening. "And speaking of, I believe that it's about noontime. I believe it's time for my briefing on the yak delegates, therefore, and I will have to hurry." "Don't suppose ya have the time ta walk me back ta the farm?" And for the first time since they'd left for the Whitetail, Missie seemed uncertain. "I don't wanna end up tuckered out on the side o' the road..." "Of course." Celestia said, stretching her wings out to offer Missie a place by her side as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I can send a letter explaining I may be delayed." Missie returned to her side with a newfound surge of vigor, her steps locking in beside Celestia's at a pace that would have seemed alien to those who knew her only as Granny Smith. All the way back they talked about past adventures and new adventures, about histories of orchards and palaces and about losses and triumphs across their long, strangely intertwining lives. They talked of bills and forests and of argicultural revolutions married in harmony with industrial ones, and of the future Missie would strive towards in their time apart. And as they talked, neither one of them took notice of the tiny glowing orange seed of Honesty that proudly grew from a tiny gemstone and fruited into a magnificent fixture upon Celestia's neck.