//------------------------------// // 39 - Their Security // Story: Bushkeeper // by Odd_Sarge //------------------------------// They met him at the wall. The air was slick with tension. Before the three tribes stood their salvation to an oncoming madness, and behind them sat their united flock. The leaders stood still before the human like ponies awaiting death’s touch. Andrew made no haste to speak or move; he had waited for answers for longer. This was their judgement, and the next words spoken would change the history of ponykind. “Bushkeeper.” The human’s eyes shifted away from Brownie. Mint’s lips twitched. “... Andrew,” she amended. “You came to our people a beacon in a time of great famine.” She bowed low and continued. “You fed us, and we worshipped you in return… and despite our differences, you became one of us. We tried to return your kindness, but found ourselves unable. You aided us in our darkest times, and in response… I betrayed your trust.” Mint stood with shaky hooves, “... the willhorns ask only to see a new sunrise, Bushkeeper.” The cloudy sky trembled with thunder as Storm stepped forward. “Our herd… divided. You made us whole again.” Storm’s eyes brimmed with tears. “My ponies were destined to disappear, weak without unity. You brought us together and formed us stronger. We… I have tried to follow in your hoofsteps, but none may match the glory and grandeur of your inspiration. Our people once found ourselves weakest amongst the earth, but you have taught us that there is more to be praised for amongst those who do not soar.” The old mare smiled softly through the burning sins of past scars. “The cloudmasters ask for unity between earth and sky, Bushkeeper.” Brownie, the silent leader, stood steadfast. “Bushkeeper. You are of the hornless.” The recluse mare shut her eyes and breathed. “But you are also of the willhorns and cloudmasters. You taught us of a life beyond our isolated comprehension, and you have shown us what lay beyond the world of strength and earth. The Greenland prospered under you, but it was not merely through strength, but that of wisdom. I once believed the lands would lay feral without power, but no longer.” Brown opened her eyes and stared deeply into Andrew’s own. “The hornless yearn for the power of mind.” She bowed her head. “The earth is with you, Bushkeeper.” The tribes stood silent once more. Rain began to pour down in earnest, casting the meeting in a shade of doubt. Mint dared not move, for fear of disturbing Andrew’s thoughts. Her fellow leaders did the same, all anticipating what would come of their herds’ desires. The teenager stood there and let the rain have its way, large droplets splattering against his otherworldly gear and soul alike. A hum permeated the air as the Bushkeeper’s staff of red magic sat in its own contemplation. Thunder boomed, and soon the winds began to whip and howl. But all creatures present stood their ground, even as each felt the approach of evil. And then the sound around them dulled. “... Mint.” The unicorn stood with rapt attention and wide eyes as the world around her grew faint. The teenager held his arms outward as his lips curved upward. “I just wanted a hug.” And she would give it to him. Mint leapt into Andrew, but the human did not topple. He held her, his body unmoving and emotionless. In time, Storm alighted upon the Bushkeeper’s back and latched on, tears hidden by the rain. Brown too came forth, her hug wiping the nausea away from Andrew’s breath. In this cocoon, the leaders were one, and the human’s punctured heart was made whole again. From beyond the barrier between worlds, the teenager felt the rest of his soul surge forth. Within him, the flames of passion roared to life, no longer held back as a mere spark. Andrew was human. He was himself. He was the keeper. And from thenceforth came the power of friendship. And with it, hope. “Language barrier or not,” Andrew began as he pulled back, “I want you all with me. What’s done is done… we can’t change the past, but I want to change the future. I know you all want to as well… and I only wish that what you just asked for isn’t just forgiveness, but for a better future.” He smiled. “We’re in this together. I taught you all that working together is the way to progress, haven’t I?” A hearty laugh left Andrew as tears trickled down his cheeks freely. “If you could understand me now… I would tell you that that’s why I’m human… and why you’re all just as human as I am pony.” Equine noises greeted Andrew from within the rain’s cacophony. But he knew they were promises. “Then let’s go. We have a natural order to topple.” A great thunder pounded the earth. A splash of water from a flurry of wings flickered droplets. A faint glimmer from the tops of the crowd emanated brightly. Andrew turned to face the assembled ponies. They stood steadfast before him, the foals peering up with hopeful smiles, and their parents looking onward, prepared for the worst. The Keeper could see it, though, the hope shining from behind each pony’s eyes. And deep down, he knew he could fulfill those hopes, but for once, it wasn’t through destiny, it wasn’t through fate. He had faith. And faith… faith in each other… That, was true power. The gods would know what it meant to live, and it would be through the hands and hooves of mortals. The mortals would nevermore falter. The plan began simply; this was still a new land to them, and it needed to be tamed. Though they had established a foothold under Andrew’s guidance, the new plains to the north of their old forestland home still held great terrors. The ponies were reunited now, so no longer were there roaming pegasi seeking to harm the herd’s ways, but the problem of the spiders and other ravenous beasts remained ever present. Andrew saw it now; they would have to go to war, but for the ponies this meant for an entirely different strategy. His eyes flickered to the soggy fires of the camp. “That’ll work.” The development of a new home would take time, but the ponies and their Keeper could work with that. ’Establishment,’ Andrew thought to himself. ’That’s the way we do it.’ Cobblestones lined the path to a thriving society, and the human knew where they needed to begin; the herd needed to ensure that their homeland would remain a safe haven for their people. These ponies did not have the numbers to hold their own against the horde of the gods’ foul mortals, even with the herds combined. No, this required a new dynamic; the Keeper and his herd could not go this alone. Andrew thought back to the deer, thought to the thundering of hooves across the eastern mountains; they were new families, new alliances, and they could be formed now and strengthened with time. If this was a war against the gods, then they needed an army and like-minded allies. This would be the security of the land. Andrew glided forward, his ponies carefully following him into the warm sanctity of their cave. They remained silent as the Keeper continued to think. They had faith in him. Their patience was unwavering, and as they watched his eyes scan the world beyond their home, they trusted in him. A flock of warm bodies pressed up against the Keeper, each pony doing their hardest to show their trust to the human. Even as Andrew remained silent, the ponies knew he was thankful for their comfort. The assurance of their land’s safety was but one keystone. What the ponies needed most was insurmountable evidence that they could keep their flock well fed and grow both as a people and in number. There would be many things to teach them, and even if he could only do so much, there was always time for them to learn on their own; they would redevelop a society, not one of humanity, but one unique from anything the two species had ever encountered in their worlds. It would rely on the most primitive of societal techniques, ones that Andrew had only the faintest clue of how to teach: planting crops to feed, refining materials to build stronger homes, the creation of a stronger leadership to organize themselves. This would be the security of the home. Even after establishing these fundamental securities, he knew that their fledgling society would easily fall without proper guidance; he had a great trust in Mint, Storm, and Brown’s abilities to lead, but he feared they would not be enough to grow. It struck him; the youngest minds would be the most influential in the creation of new ideas to prevent societal stagnation. The Keeper would have to teach the ponies to the best of his ability of everything he knew, but also record it for them to pass down. It would require the efforts of more than just him, and it all began to root down in his desire to learn the language of the ponies. Once his time came, it would be up to the young to continue his teachings and to develop their own. This would be the security of the knowledge. A great future would await the ponies were their establishments to remain as pillars in their society, but Andrew felt the outline remained incomplete; what kind of tower held only three pillars? And then it struck him. He blinked. A tender warmth had enveloped his lower half. The people around him looked up, and upon his thoughtful gaze, released him and stepped back. The faith in their eyes shimmered once more; each cloudmaster, each willhorn, each hornless. These were ponies, not humans. Society itself was an establishment. These ponies were all individuals working together, and each had their own unique quirks to go with them. If they were truly to be united, they had to understand themselves. That had been the Keeper’s fatal flaw all along; he had viewed the ponies through a single lens, never considering that they themselves might have had their own lenses. Andrew had to approach the ponies as what they were; a people with abilities he had only wisps of information for. Though they had been learning from the human and he in turn learning from them, it would require a much more serious and thorough process if the ponies were to truly create a society where they could live among each other. Even then, that would not be enough; to learn and understand themselves was only one part of the whole. Each pony would have to understand what made them strong, weak, motivated, depressed. The Keeper would learn what his ponies were, and he would help them understand who they were. He would maintain the security of the individual. Outside, the maelstrom continued to wail at the camp. But it was breaking. The ponies were quiet as Andrew stepped out into the rain. Even without his staff, they could still see the way he held himself; tall, imposing, and contemplating. None of the ponies questioned him as he looked up into the dark clouds above, a deep scowl on his face. Immediately, the rain slammed downwards in far greater force, and a great whispering hiss rose up amongst the noise of the agitated storm; the terrible sound was immortal, a song no mortal creature should have had to endure. The Keeper’s eyes flickered in a flash of light as green as the meadows. The whispering hiss died. Pouring rain slipped to a trickle in seconds, for it was no more. As the sky lightened, the ponies emerged into the soggy plain lands to meet the human. They saw that he was smiling now, and as his gaze dropped to meet theirs, they could see it was a warm and loving beam of emotion. His eyes twinkled with a shining green gleam as he spoke. “Fear no gods.” And the sun rose for ponykind.