Laurence's View
We get out of the forest from the south, near the tree stump around which the Council of the Weirdos usually convenes. The last patrol of the day finally completed, Alex and I trudge on toward the buildings, our shadows long and dark under the fiery light of the setting sun. After exchanging a wordless nod when we arrive in front of the house, the stallion resumes his slow walk in the direction of the barn, while I just sit on the porch. A relieved sigh escapes my lips, as I stretch my aching limbs...
Our tedious treks through the woods are certainly taking their toll, both physically and mentally, though Alex doesn't seem to tire as quickly as I do. To be honest, I don't know how useful the whole endeavor really is – we haven't spotted any trace of intruders since the two photographers. The persons they claimed to have seen are still unidentified, in spite of the blurry pictures they gave to Clem. Maybe these mysterious stragglers were actually just looking for mushrooms, even if I can't quite bring myself to believe it.
We're also still in the dark when it comes to the 'blight', unfortunately. Neither the Vallières nor Clem had ever seen something like this before, or heard about other nearby farms being so afflicted... Clem sent soil samples to be tested, but she won't have the results until a couple more days.
At least our patrols reassure everybody in the meantime, if only a little. It doesn't prevent the ponies from jumping at each other's throats, sure, but it can't make it worse either. Seriously, I've heard that some of them are starting to allege that other ponies could be responsible! How would that even work?
Their pretend 'pony community' is revealed for the illusion it really is, in the end – the first true challenge, and it all crumbles to nothing... From what I gathered, it seems that this tribal system emerged on its own, without taking time to think it through, so that's not so surprising – and it was probably not helped by the irrational behaviors of some ponies, the green cockatoo being a prime example. I know that Vi and Fenchone are aware of the problems, but I think Fenchone just doesn't want to admit to her own faults. As for Vi, she tries to act as a neutral party, but clearly she's not seen as such, being the 'unicorn leader'...
Ugh, this is all becoming so ridiculous..! I'm happy to have had the good sense of staying away from their petty politics!
*sigh*
Our only ray of light in this whole mess should, ironically enough, appear once the sun is firmly below the horizon.
I'll admit, I didn't believe Amber at first... Not until her 'bat-pony' revealed herself. The petite mare's skittish as a stray cat though, and I'm still not sure if she'll really show up like we agreed to. Despite her perplexing behavior, this Pippin isn't clueless after all – she knows how 'regular' ponies treat those who stray from the herd, even if it's just by looking a little different...
Let's hope that she will feel welcome tonight, and—
I blink, as a long, thin, yellowish filament drifts down to land on top of my nose, carrying with it the faintest smell of dusty apples.
Looking up, I'm greeted by a pony's face staring at me upside-down from the roof's eaves, her wild blond mane cascading over most of her features – though the reddish slit eyes are unmistakable.
Okay Laurence, try to sound friendly: “Uh, good evening..?”
“Good evening..!”, the strange mare whispers loudly.
“I, uh... Thank you for coming Pippin, would you... Would you mind getting down, please? The angry pony isn't around.”
She lets herself slip from the eaves. My first instinct is to try to catch her, but before I'm even back on my feet she has deployed her large bat-like wings, twisting through the air and landing just in front of me like it's the most natural thing: “That's good, thank you!”, she smiles widely.
I must admit, even after meeting her once, Pippin's looks are still arresting. Her sea-green coat and blond mane are pretty run-of-the-mill when it comes to ponies, but these eyes, these wings, and these adorable little tufts of hair at the tip of her large ears... Of course I quickly avert my gaze when I realize I'm gawking, but as my eye wanders toward her hooves, it stops on a rectangular pillow she's holding with a foreleg. Some kind of comfort object, perhaps?
Anyway, back to business: “So, Pippin, now we'll get inside, if that's all right with you. We're sitting in the living room, there will be three ponies, including two foals, and maybe two humans.”
Her smile vanishes, and her ears swivel back, but she still gives me a tense nod. I'll go with that...
I open the front door with a wing and get us inside discreetly. From the entrance we can hear that the Council's already in session: “I really don't know how you can drink this stuff!”, complains Mesembrine, the little stripped filly.
“I assure you, this is only plain verbena tea, right from the store shelf.”, Jeannette Vallières tries to reassure her.
“Well it smells funny, not how it's supposed to..!”
“Well don't drink it!”, interjects Dusky.
“And I won't!”
I can't help but roll my eye at this childish squabble as I cross the entrance and enter the living room. Jeannette is sitting on her couch, and Dusky, Mesembrine, and Olivier the mule stallion are on the carpet – I guess Ivan wasn't interested in the end. Like expected a teapot and mugs are laid on the table, while the television provides some background noise. The TV antenna has finally been replaced this morning, but most adult ponies don't seem to care much – maybe because they're still frustrated they had to stay confined in the barn while the repairman was working?
My musings are interrupted by an excitable pegasus colt all but swooping down on me: “Hey Laurence! How was the patrol?”
“Boring as usual, which is not a bad thing.”, I shrug, sidestepping just a little to make clear to Dusky that I'm not in the mood for direct physical contact right now.
“Has our special guest not arrived yet?”, the old woman asks after taking a sip from her mug.
Uh? I know Pippin's pretty short as far as ponies go, but still! Glancing behind me, I—
...
There's no pony.
... Really, Pippin..?
Let's see, I'd probably have noticed if she had tried to go back outside, so...
Walking back slightly, I turn right to take a look at the darkened kitchen. At first I don't spot anything amiss, but then a brief twinkle catches my eye, and I glance upward... to find a nervous Pippin, huddling precariously on top of the range hood, the faint light of the living room reflected in her widened pupils.
Better get her down from there before she breaks something...
I approach one step at a time: “Hey Pippin, it's okay... I'm here, they won't hurt you. Could you please come here?”
With obvious reluctance the mare complies, gliding silently down to the floor, and she then shuffles toward me, ears drawn back and folded wings rubbing at her sides, still clutching her pillow like it's a life preserver. God she acts as if I were leading her to the gallows! Is this how I look when I want to avoid stressful situations? No wonder it irks people...
But anyway! More negative emotions won't do us any good right now. “Thank you, Pippin. I know it's—”
“It's so frustrating..!”, she suddenly hisses, growing even more restless. “Shouldn't be so afraid of so little! It's illogical!”
“I understand, believe me...”, I say softly, sitting down on the tiles. “You have to remember that you're not entering alone, we enter together, okay?” Once she has calmed down a little and has given me a tentative nod, I go on: “Then we will introduce you together, and we will sit together, you'll never be just on your own. Do you feel you can do it?”
“Of course I can do it, I know I can do it!”, she grumbles. “But there's so many things, it's impossible to be sure it's right..!”
I take an instant to decode what she could mean by that. The easiest way's probably to listen to my own anxieties and work from there: “I'll show you, then. Just stay by my side, act how I act. You're sure to get it right this way, there won't be any other possibilities. We leave the kitchen, go through the entrance, enter the living room, we greet the whole group in one go, and we sit on the carpet. Mrs. Vallières may ask you if you want something to drink, you are free to answer 'no'. How does that sound?”
“That... It sounds like an appropriate course of action.”, she answers with a nervous smile, though it falters quickly. “I'm so sorry I'm such a mess...”
“It's all right. I know how it feels like, and it's not your fault, Pippin.”
Judging by her frown, I don't think she agrees with my last statement. All the same, when I get up and move toward the entrance, she follows after me... Until she freezes, at seeing Dusky's face peeking from the living room.
I interpose myself between her and that set of curious eyes, giving the colt a good stern look: “Shoo! Go back to your place!”
He flees with a giggle, the little trickster..!
“Sorry about that...”, I whisper to the anxious mare behind me.
“It's okay, I... I can do it!”, she asserts with a cute little stomp and scrunched up features, stepping forward to stand at my side.
With an inner sigh of relief, I lead us into the living room. Like I expected, conversations die down immediately and we become the focus of attention – I have to act quickly in case Pippin's overcome by more anxious urges: “All right people, this is Pippinstrelle, she'll attend this Council session with us. Please be kind to her, including not staring directly at her like that, it's really stressful. Thank you.”
A little curt maybe, but the results speak for themselves – the two adults respectfully shift their focus solely on me, and the two foals put some effort in not gawking too overtly. Guiding Pippin to sit next to me around the table, I then point at each of the Council members, official or otherwise, in turn from left to right: “So here you have Mesembrine, Olivier, Jeannette, and Dusky. They're all happy to meet you I'm sure.”
“We are!”, Dusky chimes in from my blindspot, while Olivier and Mesembrine nod, though Jeannette is looking oddly at the pillow Pippin's holding.
Once the bat-mare notices the human's interest, she surprises us all by handing over the pillow to Jeannette... And only now do I notice that it's actually identical to the two already laying on the couch.
“Ah, I was wondering where this one had disappeared...”, the old woman mutters as she reclaims her stolen property.
Even though Jeannette's words didn't strike me as especially reproachful, Pippin's sweating bullets: “I... I'm so very sorry madam, but the joists are so hard, and it looked so soft, and... And when I was here for the storm, I... I'm sorry!”
“Don't worry my dear, it's okay.”, Jeannette replies kindly. “You obviously took good care of it, but I would prefer that you ask first next time.”
So she snatched it during the storm... To think that we had already crossed paths that night, and I just didn't notice! As Pippin admitted yesterday, it was her who had opened the front door to get out of the rain, and she eavesdropped on my whole conversation with Amber, from her hiding place atop the living room's tall cabinet. I'll admit, I'm still a bit peeved about that...
“I... It won't happen again madam, I swear, I swear!”, Pippin keeps gabbling, straining to maintain constant eye contact with Jeannette. Her rhythmic wingrubs are also growing almost frantic, the spur-like thumbs digging into her shoulders. She's going to hurt herself at this rate!
Could it... Could it actually be a form of stimming..?
Redirecting her attention can only do her good right now anyway: “Pippin, if I may ask, why are you doing this with your wings?”
She looks at her own limbs with no small amount of trepidation: “I– I don't know! They do it on their own, I swear!”
“That's just a neutral remark, don't worry, but do you know what stimming is?” At her curious head tilt, I elaborate: “It's a kind of self-stimulation, with repetitive movements, pretty much like what you're doing right now – using your wings to rub at your sides. I gather it's not something you did before your change, huh?”
As suspected, Pippin shakes her head 'no'.
“It's okay, I do it too.”, I smile as I demonstrate my own 'clawing' against the carpet. “It can be good when you're anxious, but still, be careful not to hurt yourself. Oh, and while I'm at it, you don't have to force yourself so hard to look people in the eyes if it gets too difficult.”
“But... It's just the polite thing to do, it's what you're supposed to do!”, she argues.
“Sure, but for people like us it can be more trouble than it's worth. Just observe how, since you've been talking to me, and I've not been looking back at you in the eyes, your wingrubs have gotten noticeably milder...”
Okay, it's only a little milder, considering how the present situation's still quite anxiogenic, but Pippin seems to notice it too, if this is truly realization I see dawning on her face. The poor mare must've been neurotypical before turning pony, she just doesn't know how to deal with this yet...
While Jeannette is pouring some herbal tea for us, my attention's caught by Mesembrine, who is raising her hoof like a good schoolfilly. Once we're all looking at her, she turns to Pippin to ask her her question: “Did you learn your pony name from the mirror, too?”
“Mirror?”, Pippin echoes, her right ear twitching. “No mirror, no, why? The new name came with the body, with the dreams. You have the dreams too, with... With Discord, right?”
Even the simple evocation of that bastard's name is enough for her wingrubs to come back with a vengeance. Olivier and Mesembrine both shudder, and the acrid shame assails me again, just thinking back to... To...
“So Pippin!”, I exclaim, desperate for a change in topic. “How long have you been in Coursac, really?”
The mare looks at me oddly: “I told you.”
She did? Dammit! “Uh, well could you tell us again, for the group, please?”
“Oh of course! I arrived Tuesday the twelfth of this month, at approximately three in the morning, give or take an hour.”, Pippin is kind enough to answer.
“The twelfth?”, Olivier repeats, though he seems to have a hard time believing it. “You mean that you've been here for almost two and a half weeks?”
“Yes.”, the bat-mare answers bluntly after drinking from her mug, smacking her lips.
“But where have you been all this time?”, Jeannette questions. “You weren't staying in the forest, were you?”
“Oh I did that, at first, yes. But it's bright and noisy during the day, so I moved to the barn. There's lots of dark little hideyholes, it's better. Well, when ponies don't break the roof, that is.”, Pippin explains matter-of-factly. No wonder she couldn't resist snatching a pillow when she had the opportunity...
“I still don't understand why you didn't join the other ponies,” the old woman laments, “there's space for all of you here!”
Pippin shrugs. “I thought I would do it tomorrow.”
The others don't quite catch what she means by that, I think. “And you told that to yourself every day, huh..?”
“Yes. It was frustrating. But then I saw you.”, she adds, pointing with a wing at Olivier and Mesembrine.
The filly blinks, bewildered. “Did we... scare you..?”
She now points her wing backward, toward the wall. Though behind this wall is the kitchen, and behind that the garage, and then the barn... “They did.”
As was my impression, she's well aware of how the outsiders are treated here... And I'm not surprised that, this time, my fellow councilmembers seem to quickly understand what she's talking about.
Pippin's clearly growing more comfortable the more she talks, so we keep on providing her with new questions to answer. That's how we learn that she found Coursac after spotting the minibus that brought Dusky and some others here – she flew all night long after them, in the hope of finding a 'pony place', as she puts it. After having already collected bits and pieces of information concerning her nocturnality, how she dealt with her change, and other details of her peculiar anatomy, Mesembrine broaches an important subject: “But Pippin, what did you eat all this time? I don't think you can find enough to feed a pony in the forest...”
“There is far more resources to be found in a forest than most people realize.”, Pippin affirms. “Here though I also took things from the gardens. I make sure the plants are happy, so that's fair.”, she nods sagely.
“Wait...”, Olivier breathes, before jerking back as if understanding had slapped him in the face: “Pippinstrelle, you are the sleepgardener!?”
“Ah, Amber the finder pony said the same thing, yes.”
“What is a 'sleep-gardener' supposed to be, exactly..?”, asks Jeannette.
Olivier gives her a quick rundown of the lore surrounding the formerly mysterious figure, before turning back to the mare: “But how? And why?”
“It's important to help in a community.”, she states. “I could do that, so I did. I used to teach permaculture in our ecovillage, then it got more difficult when my hands went away, and then... Well it was good to feel useful again.”
“Even if other ponies just took your work for granted..?”
“It's easier. Everybody's happy.”
Well I can certainly understand her perspective... “You wouldn't have been comfortable with dealing directly with ponies, and yet you still tried to help as much as you could, from the sidelines...”
“That is an accurate statement.”, she agrees after pondering my words.
I hear Dusky shifting on my right: “Is that what your cutie mark's about, making the plants 'happy'?”
Glancing briefly at Pippin's thigh, I'm not sure an apple slice shaped like a crescent moon is especially relevant to agriculture. The mare herself looks more confused than anything, she probably doesn't even know what a 'cutie mark' is supposed to be...
“Cutie mark or not, you could save the farm!”, Mesembrine calls excitedly, clapping her little hooves together. “If you're a teacher, you must know how to deal with all the plants dying!”
“I... I have ways,” Pippin confirms, a bit put off by the filly's sudden enthusiasm, “but not sure yet. Will have to try new things, first one failed.”
“Do they really deserve your efforts..?”, comes a little raspy voice from my right. We all turn toward Dusky, who doesn't seem to realize just how cold he sounded right now. “What? It's a legitimate question!”, he argues, his voice back to its usual childish tones.
Strange as it was, it still got Pippin thinking. “I... No, they don't deserve.”, she frowns. “Never something for nothing, not just one, can't! But tell, teach, show, that is right, that is good, that I can! Save alone no, but I can help! And if I can, I must!”, the mare nods decisively, though her anxieties soon catch up with her: “Though there's the other angry pony... He hunts me, he won't let me help!”
“And that'd be the real issue with this kind of plan here...”, Olivier adds grimly. “Getting these ponies to listen to who is, if you will, the weirdest of the Weirdos.”
“I'm sure Annie would at least hear you out, for something so important.”, Jeannette proposes.
The stallion chuckles humorlessly. “Really? Our dear Fenchone is letting herself be carried away more and more by that gangrenous system; she's little more than another cog in the machine by now. The gardens and fields aren't that important to them anyway, they won't go hungry just because of that.”
“But it's a symbol!”, Mesembrine contests. “It's the combined work of everybody, it's the community itself! Everything got so much worse after it happened... Just like Pippin said, if we can do something to help, then we should!”
“True... But I think that, whatever we can do, it'd still be akin to putting a band-aid over an open wound. The current crisis is but a symptom of that fundamentally adversarial system that started to drive us apart, well before the first yellowed leave. I've friends in each tribe, but it has become impossible to see them in the open, or even for them to see each other, so great is the fear of being shunned by their own caste... So, really, what could a bunch of outcasts do, against that three-headed hydra..?”
I'm afraid that, as melodramatic as he sounded, Olivier made a good point – like I noticed myself, the ponies are so far gone in their little tribal game that it's a distinct possibility they wouldn't listen to reason. Especially if it's coming from us...
What if it came from someone else, then? Would Fenchone or Vi be willing to, like, 'sponsor' us? Or would that be seen as colluding with one side, to the exclusion of the other two..? Maybe I could have the two mares agree to carry this together, but then, the green cockatoo would certainly make a fuss anyway...
I wish I could just let them deal with it on their own and go back to my boring patrols, but I suspect that Pippin would shy away from any plan that doesn't include me. Even now, as Olivier, Jeannette and Mesembrine keep arguing, the petite mare is huddling close to me, as if I were her appointed protector – which is actually the case, at least in her mind. And she's the linchpin of any plan to 'save' the farm...
*sigh*
I guess protecting ponies includes protecting them from their own stupidity...
“All right people, enough wrangling for now.” I call for order, tapping a nail on the table and trying to chase my own doubts away. “I agree with Olivier, if we want to get anything worthwhile done here we have our work cut out for us, but Mesembrine's right too – even if we can't solve the real issue, we can still try to improve things, and with any luck, ponies will get a little more open-minded after that – toward us, and toward each other. Pippin's knowledge is instrumental for this, so we have to make sure she's listened to and is not bothered by any misguided idiot. Jeannette, support from you and Ivan would be an asset – it's your farm, after all. For my part I can try to talk with Violette and Fenchone, they usually pay attention to what I say and they could help smooth things out. Are we all in agreement so far?”
Like I hoped, each person around the table nods in assent – even Pippin, despite redoubled wingrubs. I don't think I'd be able – or even willing, if I'm honest – to do much without their approval...
“Perfect. Let's make plans for tomorrow then – we'll help these stupid ponies, whether they want it or not!”
Sweetchard's View
My eyes open to the darkened barn. Ponies are still sleeping and snoring all around me, and I smell and feel Crispy's soft withers under my neck...
But I'm sure I've heard something.
Slowly, I turn my ears this way and that, trying to catch whatever that was... but nada, it's gone. Maybe it was just a random critter scurrying around, or somepony shifting in their sleep.
... Or maybe it was that darn sleepgardener!
They've been laying low these past three days, avoiding me, refusing to lend us any help, and probably laughing at our efforts to save our crops and vegetables..! But I knew it was only a question of time before they tried to get back to their schemes!
At first I gave them the benefit of the doubt, told myself that maybe they had nothing to do with the blight, that just like us they only tried to save the plants... But then they did nothing! Even the plants we thought they had saved, they let them waste away, as if just to prove how little they really cared!
As if they just wanted to rub it in my face, while I was slaving away uselessly, and everypony was sniggering behind my back..!
Little by little I move my hooves under my body, and I get myself up carefully to not disturb Crispy, even though the urge to rush after the mysterious sound is strong. Once I'm finally standing I inspect our surroundings, from the main doors to the unicorns' side and the nest of the pegasi, but still nothing... Where the heck did they go?
I've looked for that bogus 'gardener' every chance I got, and yet they still elude me, it's like they're a freakin' ghost... At first the others were willing to assist, but we haven't found the barest hint of who the jerk could be, so they've mostly given up by now. Even Fenchone's starting to doubt me, I know... And all the while, the other tribes keep on laughing, of course! I've began to wonder if some of them could actually be in cahoots with the sleepgardener... That'd explain why we can't find them, and the unicorns and pegasi would just be too happy to see us fail!
But I won't give up so easily... I'll show them!
Slinking between cushions and the other sleeping earth ponies, I—
Wait, what's this?
I head for the suspicious flicker of light coming from the low table, on one side of the barn. It almost looks like... Oh yes, it's a phone! Somepony must've forgotten it here, could it even be—
Wait, it's MY phone!! What the heck is this darn thing doing here!?
The screen's flashing bright from the incoming call, and I'm relieved that it's at least in silent mode, but didn't I switch it off last time!? My blood runs cold when I get close enough to see the caller ID – it's Karim!
Why's my brother even calling me at this hour!?
W– whatever!! I, I can't, I have to get rid of this thing!!
I snatch up the phone with my mouth and hurry towards the doors, the fear of waking everypony up the only thing stopping me from going at a full gallop. I exit into the night chill, my eyes roving around desperately as if a solution would magically spring from the ground, but of course there's only me and the flashing phone between my lips! I'm trampling in place, breath ragged, teeth grinding against the cursed device, and—
“Sarah?”
My whole body seizes up at hearing the faint voice of my baby brother.
“Hello? Sarah? Can you hear me?”
Please no..!
“Hey, answer me! I know you're here!”
No no no no no..! This can't be happening! This can't be happening!! Darn sensitive touchscreen!!
“Sarah, I got your message, so now answer me damn it! We're all getting worried!”
I– I must get this thing as far away from me as possible!!
My hooves carry me almost of their own accord around the barn, in direction of the forest; if I throw it far enough away, I... I...
“Sarah!”
... I need to get this darn thing away from me!!
Careening wildly over the dewy grass, the dark woods are growing nearer by the second. But will I be able to throw it far enough? This is the way to the latrines here, what if somepony finds it, and asks questions!?
My peripheral vision catches the glint of metal on my left. Glancing over, I see it's the well and its water pump.
“If you just found her phone, please just tell us where! We won't tell anyone, I promise!”
The well's the answer!!
“We just want to know what happened to her!”
Yes, it'll stay down there and never come out again!
I'm over there in a heartbeat, the concrete cover sliding off a lot more easily than I expected, revealing the pitch-black abyss under it. However in my hurry the phone slips from my dry lips; it falls on the grass screen up, flashing again.
For an instant, the phone displays that picture of Karim from when he was still a lanky teenager, standing next to me on a beach.
I remember that day...
We had just beaten two snooty preppy guys at a game of volleyball. At the end I'd gotten a good faceful of ball, probably as some sort of petty vengeance. I didn't care, we had won after all, but Karim insisted on checking my bloody nose. He was reacting so out of proportion, I joked by calling him 'Dr. Mokrani'. That's when he told me he really wanted to become a doctor someday. I told him he better try to improve his grades if that was really his dream. And he did improve after that, just not enough for med school. He's still happy working as a nurse, though. He tried and he tried, and even if he's not living his former dream, he got close enough.
I love this picture.
That's why it's the one showing up each time we call each other.
My baby bro... I was so proud of you... I still am.
“Please..! If you know where my sister is, tell me!”
...
What am I doing!?
I... I can't throw my baby bro into a well..!
My vision gets blurry as I fall to the ground and scramble for the phone, my darn hooves feeling so clumsy right now!
“I beg y—”
“Karim! I'm– I..!”
But the phone has gone dark. There's no more sounds now, apart from my own sobs.
It must've finally ran out of power...
Cradling the inert device against my chest, I find myself assailed by thoughts of Karim, of Farid and Sofiane, of Mom and Dad. Their voice, their smiling faces, the good meals shared together as a family, and so many things big and small... Gosh I feel awful, to have tried so stupidly to forget them, to have acted as if they just didn't exist anymore..! They've been looking for me, they must be worried sick after I all but disappeared from the face of the Earth, and what did I do..?
What could I do!? I... I couldn't just go to them looking like this, or calling them sounding like this! I couldn't tell them it was all over, and disappoint them again! But...
But I can't keep on trying to forget them like this!
I can't keep on hurting them! They don't deserve it!
Maybe I could write an email? Sure they may try to call me anyway, but at least I could reassure them! I'm so afraid of how they'd react, what's going to happen if they come looking for me, but... But I've been enough of a horrible daughter, or son, or whatever – I must do something!
Gosh I miss you all so mu—
“Sweety..?”
I almost jump out of my skin at Crispy's whisper, springing to my hooves and spinning around to face her: “Crispy!? What are you doing here?”
She's standing just at the corner of the barn, a forehoof raised as if unsure if she should come closer. My first instinct to try to hide my phone, which I've left down on the grass, but... But what would be the point now, really..?
“I... What's happening? Are you all right?”, she asks, moving towards me. Even with only the moonlight to illuminate her face, the concern in her eyes is plain to see.
My heart's a whirlwind of emotions right now, between the nightmare of these past few days, and what just happened with Karim, and... And I think I've had enough of acting like a strong confident stallion tonight. If I can't confide in her, then in who, really..?
“It's...”, I begin, but the words fail to come.
Eh... After trying so hard to bottle this all up, a large part of me is still so reluctant to let it out. It'd be so easy to just shut up, keep on acting like everything's fine, like I'm happy with how things are... But I have to tell her. I have to stop hiding it all...
*sigh*
“My brother's been trying to reach me, and...”
“... And you're not sure what to do, right?”, she answers knowingly, barely a body-length in front of me now.
I nod, my gaze falling back on that darn phone. “I've let them all down...”
“Sweety, I know we... Well, I understand that thinking back to these humans may be hard for you, but remember that they're behind us...” She nuzzles at my neck, and I relish the contact, but she uses the opportunity to swipe the phone away from us. “It's not you anymore, and you know it... So leave the past in the past. You're just feeling down because of everything with the crops, but we will find a solution soon, I promise, and everything will be back to normal after that!”
“It's not just that, Crispy...”, I mutter sadly, looking down at my phone. “We didn't think we needed to hold on to who we were, that maybe we could only be Sweetchard and Crispy, but... It's not because we wish to forget that it ceases to exist. Now that I take just a gosh darn second to think things through, I... I'm not sure I can continue like this! And I'm afraid it goes even deeper than that...”
“But you can!”, she tries to comfort me. “That's what we've been doing until now, and that's all we need! Being together, you and me, is the only thing we need!”
“I can't do that to Karim, or Mom and Dad... Even Sofiane and Farid deserve to at least know I'm still alive... They're both idiots, but they're still my brothers..! I can't keep acting as if they didn't exist, as if our bond didn't mean anything... It's not fair to them.”
Maybe she'll understand how I feel, now? I know that the way she parted with her human family was very different, but still...
I look up, and to my surprise, Crispy's kind expression has vanished. Her brow's now creased by a slight frown, her mouth's drawn in a taut line, and her eyes are unreadable.
Did I say something I shouldn't have?
“Crispy..?”
“Oh it's nothing, sorry!”, she blurts out, her lips switching far too quickly into a smile, a fake one.
What is she... Oh! Stupid me..! She must be thinking about her own family, of course! “It's okay honeybunch, you know you can tell me anything, right?”
“That was just a random, ridiculous thought, don't worry!”, she claims, but I'm not fooled. It can't be so random and ridiculous if it affects her like this...
“Well... I'm beginning to think that keeping things locked up inside isn't that great after all, you know..?”
Her hollow smile falters, letting the genuine worry show through. It's my turn to nuzzle her tenderly, the both of us finding some much needed solace in the closeness, and yet she still feels so tense...
“I, er... It's just that... You're going to laugh!”, she begins, giggling self-consciously. “It's, well, I never imagined you could've been Maghrebi before! See, I told you it was ridiculous!”
... What?
She goes on, oblivious to my confusion: “You're Sweetchard after all, a pony, it's completely irrelevant now, it just surprised me! Like I said, it's better to just let sleeping dogs lie, to leave all this human stuff behind, and—”
“Crispy, what the heck?”, I interrupt her.
She blinks, startled by my bluntness. “I... What do you mean?”
“Well first off, why would that even surprise you? And no, that's not irrelevant either, that's who I am!” Is she really serious? And why does she look so alarmed all of a sudden?
“No Sweety, that's just what you were!”, she insists, backing away. “You're not like that anymore!”
“Like 'that'..? Seriously, do you... Do you have a problem with this?”
“I... Sweety, it's very late, or very early, I'm tired, we should just go back to bed, we're both stressed out, and—”
“No, Crispy! There's clearly something, I can see it plainly!” I try to get closer to her, but she draws back further away. “I can even smell it... Why are you afraid?”
She struggles to find her words, still staying well out of reach: “It's just that... Sweetchard, you have to understand that I... I've been raised with certain values, so I... I mean, certain preconceptions and the like, and...”, she sputters, at a loss for words.
I finally realize that she's trying to find a way to say this without sounding awfully offensive, and she just can't... “And now you know I'm just a dirty Arab, right?”, I spell out for her, jaw tense and ears drawing back.
“Don't say it like that..!”, she hisses, though I can't tell if she's reacting to the words themselves, or the simple fact I said them out loud... “You're just Sweetchard now, you don't need these old labels!”
Well here's my answer... I'll admit, it's easy to forget where she came from, what kind of person she may've been before, but her father should've been a clue. Just like how she reacted in Toulouse, too. I wish I didn't have to see her for who she really is, but again, that's probably my own darn fault for wanting some freaking honesty between us...
Oh, and the kicker..? She looks outraged that I am feeling offended!
“Stop looking at me like that, Chard!”, she almost growls. “You can't expect me to just forget a lifetime of living in this country!”
“Oh really? What happened to 'forget the past'..?”, I scoff at her attempts to evade any blame for her own beliefs.
“Would you just please stop acting like such a smart aleck!?”
“Or what? Seriously Crispy, I thought you weren't like your father and those Brigade bastards! But clearly, like with, heck, everything in my life as of late, I've been keeping my head in the sand, right!?”
“I can't just act like I'm a blank slate because it'd be convenient for you!”, she protests as if I were the one at fault.
Of course I can't help but chuckle at her latest 'argument'... “Isn't that what you want from me, being a blank slate for you..? I'm Algerian so I should just shut up, 'cause we wouldn't have Arab ponies, huh, that's it?”
“You're not 'Algerian',” she sneers, saying it like it's a dirty word, “you're French like everybody else, that's all that should matter!”
“Oh but clearly I'm still not as 'French' as you are, because I'm not a good proper whitey...”
“That's not what I said!”
“So if my brothers had been called Jules or Pierre, or if our surname had been Dupont or Benoît, you wouldn't have any problem, right? And yet, I'm still the same Sweetchard, who was the same Sarah Mokrani. The same me you smooched and cuddled with without a second thought 'til now...”
“Will you stop!?”, she snarls with a furious stomp.
“And what if I don't want to stop..? What if I decide to embrace who I was, huh? What then, 'honeybunch'?”
“Don't try to play games with me, Sweetchard! You need me!”
“Do I, now..?”, I ask haughtily, trying to look sure of myself even if I know she's more right than I'd wish for her to be.
“You're behaving like a complete jerk, in case you didn't notice!”, she shoots back. “If it weren't for me you'd have already bit somebody's head off for the most trivial thing! You're a freaking time bomb, always a hair's breadth away from exploding!”
“And I thought I could rely on you!”, I retort just as angrily. “But what happens when I need a shoulder to cry on? When I need help? You look at me like I'm a filthy stranger! 'You and me side by side, there's no more need to hide'... You remember our song? What happened to that, huh!?”
“That stupid song was a mistake! We didn't even know each other, we were both alone and afraid!”
“And you just needed me to get you out from under the heel of your madman of a father, right..?”
“No!”, she snaps. “I could have left at any time! It's you who started following me like a lost puppy, desperate for a willing partner to play the pony!”
“'Play'!? I am a pony!”
“Then stop trying to hold on to all this crap!! Just be Sweetchard and nothing else! Why do you want to be so difficult all of a sudden!?”
“You're such a freakin' hypocrite..! I've always did my best to be here for you, to support you even when you were plain wrong, I hoped that after what you did in Toulouse you'd get your act together, that our love would be enough to make things right, but—”
“I don't love you, you dumb clod!!”, she seethes, her fury being the only thing holding the other emotions at bay, only letting pass the tears pearling from the corners of her eyes. “What did you think!? That it'd be 'love at first sight'!? Don't take your dreams for realities, colt!”
Her bitter rant is more painful than I'd care to admit... Do I really love her or, like she's arguing, was it just all pretend from the beginning..? Yes it happened so fast, but...
But clearly I was mistaken...
“I'm sad for the real Chard and Crispy, you know...”, I muse aloud to better hide my feelings. “They really ended up in two fucked up human beings. If only Crispy had rubbed off a little more on you, but you're still—”
“Ah!”, she exclaims scornfully. “You think you'd be better off with the original!? You've no idea who she was! It's a darn relief that I'm nothing like her!”
“Don't even try to sully that poor mare, that won't—”
“I saved you!!”, she almost yells, pointing at her own chest with a hoof. “For all the odious slander you can spew about me, I still saved you!!”
What..? What is she even talking about!?
“Don't play coy, Chard!”, Crispy calls with a wicked smirk. “You know what she did! But I guess that's just you – you can't face the hard truths even if your life depended on it! You're a selfish coward who always reacts with violence when he feels threatened! Ah, in the end I shouldn't be surprised you're a fucking Arab, it's all over you!”
I... I won't even grace that pitiful rant with an answer!!
We keep glaring at each other, chests heaving, tails swishing angrily, necks lowered and ears flattened like either one of us could attack the other at any moment. Blood's boiling hot in my veins, but I don't want to do something I'd regret... And I certainly won't give her the satisfaction of lashing out first..!
“I've had enough of this farce.”, I finally spit, turning my back on her to leave.
She doesn't say anything.
I keep on walking, slowly, until I've rounded the other corner of the barn.
Still nothing.
...
Well good fucking riddance!!
My walk turns into a trot as I go past the barn and the great oak tree, and then quickly shifts to a gallop as I cross the barren fields, leaving that liar of a mare and my tears far behind.
I don't know where I'm going.
I don't care.
I just want to get away from here.
Laurence's View
Pippin stares at the mug of hot coffee levitating toward her, completely mesmerized by the display of reality-bending magic while still managing to look like she could fall asleep at any moment. Once Amber has laid it down on the table, the curious mare begins to inspect the mug from every angle, as if she were expecting some sort of trick or illusion. Only after tapping the ceramic repeatedly with a hooftip and actually licking it does she seem satisfied by her examination. “Fascinating..!”, she whispers drowsily, before pouring copious amount of sugar into her beverage and taking her first careful sip.
I hope that the caffeine will keep her sufficiently alert for what we have planned this morning... She wasn't kidding when she said she had turned fully nocturnal.
Looking at the other ponies around the kitchen table, a ragtag bunch of misfits if ever there was one, I'm satisfied to see that Olivier, Mesembrine, and Dusky look ready to go as soon as Pippin's done, and Amber has also managed to escape her mother long enough to lend us a much appreciated hoof. Of course we're all still a little nervous at the idea of defying the great pony collective, so to speak, but we agreed last night that we had to try something, now that Pippin's willing to be recognized for her talents.
The bat-mare treated us to a crash course in permaculture, something she's clearly passionate about to the point of rambling – and she can ramble a lot. Most of her ideas aren't readily achievable for us, for reasons of time and supplies, but she has a good simple, effective plan for today. If all goes well, this should serve as further proof of her abilities and knowledge for everybody. Then, once we're sure the blight can be taken care of, we will buy replacement plants and seeds according to her advice.
It'll certainly not solve all our issues, but at the very least it should allow us to restart things on a more functional basis, and spur them in the right direction. This could be unduly optimistic, but maybe it'll also inspire others, enough for them to get their act together...
One can always dream, huh..?
The kitchen is dead silent as we're waiting for Pippin to finish her coffee. I'm trying to read the latest update of a fanfic, both to kill time and soothe my nerves, but my focus strays far too easily away from my phone. The rest of my team isn't faring any better as our 'grand performance' is drawing uncomfortably near, especially for the two senior councilmembers. Until now they both made a habit of being invisible, after all... I hope that, through this plan of ours, we will be able to relieve them of that infuriating status of 'second-class ponies' once and for all.
I glance at Pippin, watching her waggle the mug between her hooves for the umpteenth time. How long does it take to drink a little coffee..?
Suspicious, I slide off my chair. She notices me inching to her side, and chooses this very instant to lift the mug back to her lips as if taking a sip.
It'd work better if she at least pretended to swallow something...
And yet she still holds the pose for a while, chancing quick looks in my direction now and then to see if I'm gone. Well, no luck missy!
“Sorry...”, she mumbles guiltily, putting her empty mug back on the table at last.
I answer with my gentlest stern look. I know from experience that avoidance behaviors are, of course, difficult to avoid... And I also know how much of an effort this is for her. Last night she was extremely reluctant at the idea of going out during the day, and it wasn't because she's nocturnal. Beyond feeling anxious, it was almost as if she were fearing for her life... However, when we fetched her at dawn, she was clearly a lot less afraid – still obviously nervous, sure, but it showed just how strong her resolve could be!
Well then... “All right, it's time.”, I declare, five pairs of ears focusing on me. “We keep to our plan. Ponies may begin to mill around at this hour, don't pay attention to them. If they try to bother you, don't react if possible – they'll have to deal with me. Okay?” They all nod, some more enthusiastically than others, and we head outside through the front door with our gear.
The morning air is cool, without much wind, and the sky's slightly overcast... Which proves to be our very first hurdle of the day:
“It's bright..!”, Pippin whines, using her wings as makeshift umbrellas. I suspect this is less her eyes hurting and more her clear preference for the dark talking, but it still bothers her – we hadn't even opened the blinds of the kitchen's windows, at her insistence.
Fortunately, Olivier has our solution in hoof. “We'll have to thank Jeannette again for her foresight...”, he muses as he tries to put the large bucket hat with hastily-made earholes on Pippin's head. 'Tries' is appropriate though, because it's not easy to fit a hat properly over that wild mane with just one hoof, and Pippin doesn't feel like helping...
Amber comes to our rescue: “May I?”
Pippin nods, and soon she giggles as red magic brushes her mane back and fits her ears neatly into the hat's holes. I think she looks utterly ridiculous with this thing hiding half of her face, but she seems to like it, and it provides some much-needed shade for her eyes. And all right, it's somewhat cute, too.
I can only hope that all our problems will be solved as easily today...
“So, where should we start?”, I ask the hatted mare as our little troupe stands in front of the sprawling garden grounds.
“Worst spots first, here.”, she points with a wing to what is to me a random patch of dead or dying plants. It's a sad sight, compared to how it looked when we first arrived... Once there, Pippin doesn't waste any time before showing exactly where she wants to take her samples, Olivier digging for her with a spade to form little mounds of soil in different places – away from any plants, next to some, next to others... We trust Pippin to know what she's doing, and we stand ready to help for anything else.
Our second hurdle finds us soon enough, sooner than I'd have wanted. Ponies are starting to trickle out of the barn, probably on their way to their breakfast, and the spot Pippin selected is plainly visible from the doors... So, predictably, we catch the attention of a little group of earth ponies, who start gawking at us and whispering among themselves.
Pippin's ears prove how sensitive they are despite her sleepiness, as she notices these busybodies right away. She quickly moves to ensure that I'm between her and the ponies, even if they're quite distant and don't act threatening. This kind of situation was to be expected, of course – it's in large part because we want an audience that we're working during the day. It's also why I had a quick word with Vi and Fenchone last night, asking them to let us try our things in peace. They agreed to stay away for now and discourage interlopers, even though Fenchone was quite dubious of what good we could accomplish by ourselves.
“It's okay, don't mind them.”, I tell Pippin. “I'm sure they're just jealous you're a better farmer than any of them.”
The mare shies away though, her wings rubbing at her sides, and when I turn back to the ponies I see that Bilberry is walking warily toward us. Olivier immediately moves to stand next to Pippin, probably anticipating trouble, but I'd be surprised if it came from Bilberry of all ponies – especially with how hesitant she looks right now.
“Hey Laurence, I... Is she who I think she is..?”, the young blue mare asks me from a respectable distance, nodding in Pippin's general direction.
“Probably, yes.”, I answer non-noncommittally, gauging her reaction.
She takes an instant to process the information. “Then... Can I help? Things are... Things aren't as they should be. I haven't acted as I should have.”, she admits, downcast. “So, uh, if I can help change things...”
I'm pleased to hear that – this is exactly the kind of response we want to evoke! Bilberry did good before, in Toulouse then more recently when we had to deal with the photographers, and I feel better having her at our side. We also have one individual from each tribe now, including the 'weird' ones, which should lessen the potential accusations of favoritism or whatever other nonsense. Though we'll see how this plays out in practice – the other earth ponies are already looking at Bilberry with as much antipathy as for the rest of us...
Olivier visibly relaxes at the young mare's words: “All help is appreciated.”, he smiles at her.
“Thanks...”, she breathes in relief, still far from being at ease. “So... What are we doing, exactly?”
“We're only assisting the actual expert here.”, I tell her, gesturing at the bat-mare who has gone back to her work, one ear still turned toward us. “Pippin noticed that some of the plants with deep root systems, like older tomatoes, carrots and chard, aren't as much affected by the blight as the others. So, she theorized that only the uppermost layers of soil are contaminated. That's why her first action, when she noticed, was to move some of the more at-risk plants elsewhere.”
“Yeah, that's what Chard had us do too.”, she nods. “But it didn't work...”
“Indeed, yet it did work at first, according to her. So we're trying to find out why.”
We wait for Pippin to be done with the first part of the plan, which doesn't take too long: “No particles or organisms, even under sunlight. No apparent differential.”, she states after carefully examining her little mounds of soil. “Can try the sieves now.”
That's the cue for Mesembrine and Dusky, who bring to Pippin the bucket, colander, and sieves of increasingly thinner meshes that Jeannette lent us.
“Sieves? Whatever for?”, Bilberry questions.
“To find out if there's any suspicious material we just couldn't see in the ground.”, Olivier explains. “It's far from optimal, but it's still something as we wait for the official lab results. Maybe it could even wash the blight away, depending of what it's made of.”
“This is just a small-scale test, of course.”, I add. To be honest that's the part of the plan I'm the less sure about.
“I see. I guess we need lots of water for that, right?”
“Yes...”, Pippin confirms with a yawn.
“Okay then, I'll go fetch a can and some well water!”, Bilberry says, clearly eager to contribute in some way.
But Mesembrine doesn't let her, rushing to block the young mare's way: “Don't! The well water's icky, you should take it from the rain barrel!”
“'Icky'?”, Bilberry repeats, confused. “Yeah, sure, we're not supposed to drink it, but it's fine for crops, don't worry.”
The filly still shakes her head. “That's the best way I have to describe it; it's icky, and it stinks...”
“Uh, I took a shower last evening, and it smelled perfectly fine to—”
“I want both!”, Pippin interjects almost forcefully, surprising us all with her sudden alertness.
“She has her reasons.”, I back her up, even if it's only as a matter of principle – we have to believe she's really the expert she seems to be, the whole operation would be meaningless otherwise. “I stay with her, please do as she asks.”
After a moment of quite understandable hesitation, the others organize themselves quickly: Amber and Bilberry go for the well, and Olivier and Mesembrine for the rain barrel behind the house. I still hope Pippin's strange request isn't completely far-fetched, that wouldn't do us any good...
While the others are busy doing this, more ponies are slowly gathering outside the barn. I stand ready if the cockatoo or Sweetchard try something, but for now the stallion hasn't showed up, and like Dusky said most pegasi are still asleep this early in the morning. That's certainly all right with me – these two are the only real dangers to our plans. Ponies are happy to just watch us from afar for now, and I want to keep it that way.
It takes less than five minutes for my team to be back with the watering cans, and they put them in front of Pippin. The mare crouches down to be closer to Mesembrine's level: “Can you smell for me?”
A bit taken aback, the filly gives a tentative nod. “Uh, of course, yeah...” Directed to the first can, the one with the rain water, she gives it a brief sniff: “Slightly metallic maybe, but nothing special...”
From the others' expressions, I don't think they expected much more than that. What exactly is Pippin playing at here..?
Undeterred by our rising reservations, the mare then points at the well water can, and Mesembrine repeats the curious test – though with a starkly different result this time: “Yeah this one stinks..!”, she cringes with overt disgust.
Bilberry clearly has a hard time believing it, and sniffs at the can herself: “Smells like perfectly normal water to me, as in there's no smell at all...”
“There is an icky smell!”, the filly argues with total confidence.
Olivier gives it a go himself, inhaling from both cans. “I'm afraid I don't notice any difference...”, he frowns. “But I will say that Chloé's – I mean, Mesembrine's nose, is really sensitive, so, who knows...”
Hmm... Could the filly really perceive things we cannot..?
Pippin seems to have no doubts on the question, as she now leads Mesembrine toward the soil we extracted earlier. “This?”, she asks bluntly, hoof pointing at one of the little mounds.
Mesembrine blinks, unsure, but still follows the mare's instructions. She moves her muzzle close to the soil, and... “It's... It's icky, too!”, she blurts out in shock. “Not as strong, but it is!”
Pippin then turns to us, pointing one wing at the can of well water, and the other at the little pile of contaminated soil: “Same.”, she asserts with an air of finality.
... Wait, but if that's true...
“You mean that it has also affected the water table!?”, Olivier gasps, giving voice to my fear.
“No.”, Pippin shakes her head.
“She's right – if the blight could penetrate as deep as the water table, deep-rooted plants wouldn't fare better than the others anyway. That's somewhat reassuring, but then...”, I ponder out loud, before it hits me: “It's in the water in the first place..!”
Bilberry's face turns ashen as she comes to the same realization. “You mean... We kept watering our plants with poisoned water!?”
Pippin only nods.
“That's why moving them didn't have any effect! We were still giving them the same water!”
Another nod.
“So it wasn't just our fault..!”, the young mare breathes, some small measure of relief found amid her dismay.
Olivier then asks the next logical question: “What the heck did they do to our well!?”
“Let's find out...”, I tell my team, and as one we start walking toward the back of the barn, a pack of curious ponies on our trail.
Rounding the corner, we arrive in front of that damn well. From here nothing seems amiss, but that's to be expected – it would've been noticed days ago if it were that obvious. Getting closer, first off I note that the round plate of concrete that acts as a cover is kept half open. I'd guess it's because the pump's pipe has to go through the opening somehow, but the pipe's not that wide, half that space would be sufficient. And that cover doesn't look too heavy in the first place, it shouldn't take too much effort to have it fully removed – something we can test right now.
With Olivier's help the cover is easily put away, revealing the dark depths underneath. The water level is too far below to see anything like this, but fortunately, we may have a couple alternatives...
“Could you shine some light down there, Amber?”
The young unicorn gathers magic around her horn and leans over the rim, bathing the hole in red. But even like this there's barely any reflection on the water down below, it's just too dark. I know Amber won't be able to keep on like this for long either, but with the help of an unparalleled specialist of low-light conditions..?
“Pippin? Could you take a look too, please?”
With a quick nod the mare scales the rim and thrusts her head down, so eagerly that for a moment I'm afraid she's actually going to topple over! Her grip is strong though, with both her hooves and her wing thumbs, but, uh, I stay ready to seize her by the tail, just in case...
“There's something.”, she says almost instantly, her high-pitched voice echoing oddly in the confines of the well.
“What kind of 'something'?”
“Plastic. Under water.”
“Isn't it just the pump shaft?”, Olivier asks.
“No.”, comes the immediate reply.
The stallion and I look at each other. Even though I have trouble analyzing the precise emotions displayed on his equine face, I'm sure he's thinking the same thing as I am. Just what did they throw down that well..?
I turn back to Amber: “Do you think you could grab it?”
She gives us a determined nod. “I'll try!”
We all wait with bated breath as the young unicorn strains herself, and though the distant sounds of sloshing water are promising, I'm quickly getting worried at the beads of sweat forming under her blazing horn, and the way she's gritting her teeth..! “Amber?”
“I– I can feel it,” she pants, “there's at least two, like barrels or something, but it's... It's so heavy..!”
“All right Amber, stop.”, I order her firmly. “If they're barrels they must be full of water, and you're going to drain yourself at this rate.”
She follows my command, backing off from the well and ceasing her channeling, though she doesn't hide her frustration. I can understand the feeling, but it's clearly not a one-unicorn job, and beyond the concerns for her well-being, we may still need her magic for other tasks. Maybe we could take a more mundane route instead, like hooks and ropes?
“We need help...”, Olivier mutters, and I guess he has an idea of where to find it, as he turns toward the crowd of curious ponies gathered at a respectable distance from us. His focus lands on that lanky unicorn stallion, the one I saw at the beginning of my first Council session: “Hey Nat, could you help us, please?”
The unicorn flinches visibly at being singled out, the other ponies recoiling away from him like he suddenly got the flu – unless they're just afraid of being accosted in turn. It's a pretty disparaging display, and the poor guy looks even more uncomfortable, almost ready to bolt. This time, it's all too easy to read the feeling of disappointment on Olivier's face...
My eye is caught by a brief flash of gold, toward the back of the crowd. It's Violette, and from the way she's looking at me, using her magic was probably to get my intention. She nods subtly, eyebrow arched, and I understand she's asking for my permission to intervene – to reassure the unicorn or come to our help herself, I'm not sure. Vi's one the strongest unicorns on the farm when it comes to magic, but she's also their figurehead... And I'm still really unsure of how the ponies at large would react, if only one of their leaders involved herself directly with us – Fenchone made clear she would neither hinder nor openly support our plan until she could see the results.
That point becomes moot, however, because after a weak stomp and a quick readjusting of his glasses, the unicorn stallion decides to step toward us! It's certainly not very enthusiastic, but it's enough to make Olivier and I smile again – ponies are starting to think for themselves again!
The stallion's almost here when a green pegasus mare swoops down on us, alighting between our group and the startled unicorn!
Dammit, it's that cursed cockatoo..! It was going too well!!
She glares at us, and especially at me of course: “What do you think you're doing..?”, she questions in an ice-cold voice.
It's so very tempting to reply with a 'none of your business', but that wouldn't help us much right now... Other pegasi are hovering around, watching closely, and I can't run the risk of antagonizing them all by proxy. “We're just trying to deal with the blight problem, same as everyone else.”, I answer diplomatically.
“So that's why you recruited the weirdos..?”, she scoffs, haughty as can be. “Probably filled their heads with empty promises, to have them do your dirty work! And one of our own foals, too! Come here right now Dusky, this 'human' is nothing but trouble!”
The little colt walks from behind me, but stops at my side, sitting on his haunches: “No.”
I refrain a smirk at seeing the green mare's eyes bulging and her wings ruffling – guess this wasn't what you wanted to hear, huh? At least her anger's directed at me rather than Dusky: “So it begins – pegasi turned against each other! You may deceive the more gullible of us, but we're not blind to your ploys!”
“And what are my 'ploys', exactly..?”, I ask, eyebrow raised.
“Do you really think this pathetic attempt will make up for the disastrous way you 'protected' us!?”, she rants, avoiding my question and turning to the crowd of ponies instead: “Look around you, look at what she's responsible for! This all happened on her watch! This so-called 'hero' is nothing but a fraud, just like our self-appointed 'leaders'! We trusted them, put our fate into their hooves, but they've proven just how incompetent they are, and now they're even stopping us from doing what needs to be done!”
“That's enough, Keensight!”, Fenchone interrupts, the earth mare pushing her way through the crowd to confront the green cockatoo directly: “I'm tired of you and your endless spite!”, she barks with naked anger. “I've been patient but you can't help yourself, you always have to cause trouble! This is MY farm, and if you don't shut the buck up I'll make darn sure you'll end up back in the cell you should never have been let out of!!”
I'm far from being the only one stunned by Fenchone's vehemence, as relatable as it is, yet Keensight isn't fazed in the slightest: “So this is your answer to having your authority challenged, exile!? But I won't be silenced! Not when your irresponsible behavior directly affects the lives of so many ponies!”
Now it's Vi's turn to enter the fray, even if her serious expression doesn't do much to hide her nervousness: “Please, you are both way out of line!”, she chides the other two leaders. “We should be able to speak our grievances like reasonable ponies, not through a shouting match. The only thing we're doing right now is sowing even more dissent!”
“Stay out of this, unicorn!”, Fenchone snaps. “I've listened to you and it didn't change anything! This featherbrain has gone too far, and this time I will put her in her place!”
My heart skips a beat as I see Fenchone charging at Keensight, who doesn't even try to fly away! Instinctively I dash forward, interposing myself before the earth pony can collide with the pegasus, barely managing to stay on my feet and avoid being trampled as I grapple Fenchone, and force her to stop!
“Get hold of yourself,” I hiss at her enraged face, “she's playing you like a damn fiddle..!”
“Don't lecture me, you coward!!”, she snarls, biting at my neck! I stagger away from Fenchone, appalled by both her words and actions, and she's now bearing down on me: “You were supposed to take her place, you'd have been perfect! But no, you had to go hide in your bucking forest, you had to leave us to deal with her, with the problem you caused!”
Vi immediately comes to my rescue: “That's unfair, Fenchone! She's already doing everything she can for our community, and—”
“Well that's not enough!! Do you think I had the choice to hide from my responsibilities!?”
“Then maybe you shouldn't have decided to invite ponies to your farm!”, Vi argues back.
“You think I had a choice!?”
I... I reel from the disaster unfolding in front of me, Vi and Fenchone keeping on yelling at each other, and the ponies around us looking just as horrified as I am..! But that's when I spot Keensight, and her smug smile.
“See..?”, she tells the crowd, shaking her head as if she were honestly disappointed. “This is the true face of the ponies you thought you could trust... This is how they lead, through threats and violence..! This”, she repeats, gesturing all around us, “is what they brought!”
There's something in the air, something vaguely familiar, as the green pegasus begins to strut in front of a strangely captive audience...
“All of us here, from our homes driven,
Heard the promise, of this safe haven...
To live in peace,
With food and a roof!
Who would have thought,
It would be a spoof!”, she... sings.
Ah. So that's was it was...
“Big talk, vain vows, it's all been for naught!
Hope and trust, just look at what they brought!”, Keensight goes on dramatically, clearly having the time of her life.
I would laugh, if the ponies weren't listening with such rapt attention... Even Fenchone and Vi have stopped arguing.
“I laid broken, with much to relearn,
Here my new chance, after this bad turn!
A brief respite,
My simple desire!
But here I am,
Still stuck in this mire!”
“Big talk, vain vows, it's all been for naught!
Hope and trust, just look at what they brought!”
“Together, no more, we must refuse!
All their faults, we shall never excuse!”, she snarls, pointing at Fenchone, Vi, and myself.
Her first target is of course the earth mare, hovering right in her face:
“Our 'gracious' host, neither wings nor horn,
Any fairness, she's always forsworn!
For all problems,
Her answer's a huff!
Tell me, don't you just have had enough!?”, she concludes, haranguing the ponies, and several unicorns and pegasi shout in approval.
Fenchone doesn't look happy at all to be accused like this, of course, but emboldened by Keensight, the malcontents couldn't care less for the earth mare's glare.
Still on a roll, the pegasus then turns to Vi:
“And now this mare, who thinks us uncouth,
High and mighty, so far from the truth!
Vaunts her magic,
But can't make a puff!
Tell me, don't you just have had enough!?”
Again some ponies echo the sentiment – though nowhere near as many as for Fenchone. However, Vi is clearly more affected, her outrage at being so disparaged not being enough to mask the pain of ponies actually booing her so shamelessly.
I'm not surprised to be Keensight's next victim:
“Last but not least, our would-be savior,
Rightly banished, for her behavior!
All she deserves,
For being so gruff!
Tell me, don't you just have had enough!?”
'Gruff'..? Just stop fluttering left and right, stupid cockatoo, and you'll see how 'gruff' I can be..!
But of course, she just goes on:
“Their tyranny, I will overthrow!
Just like this curse, I refuse to bow!
Always struggling,
But never undone!
It's no holds barred,
Up until I've won!”
Wait...
Why does it feel like I've heard that before..?
“So now hear me, everyone of you,
And together, we will start anew!”
But not from her...
“Forget these shrews,
And follow—”
“You're like me..!”, I blurt out, eye wide, and pretty much as if my voice had been a record needle scratch, Keensight's song comes to a brutal halt, every single pony, cockatoo included, staring at me.
“... What?”, she breathes, aghast.
Being suddenly under such intense scrutiny is daunting, but I can't allow myself to falter now – so I focus exclusively on Keensight, and act as if it were just the two of us:
“So it's all a question of control, isn't it..?”, I ask the green mare as she tries to rein in her shock.
“I– I've no idea what you're talking about, you madmare!”, she screeches, all but confirming my hunch.
“You're willing to do anything, as long as it gives you this feeling of being in control...”, I go on, moving closer to her as she backs away, not allowing her to escape. “I know, because it's the same for me – when you decide on something and keep to it, even if it's illogical, or if it hurts you, even if you don't like it, it still gives you some measure of control over your life... So, tell me, is it because I don't refrain from speaking my mind that you hate me so much? Because I dare say out loud what you're screaming in your own skull?”
“I'm not like you!”, she contests, trying to push me away, but I'm taller, and stronger.
“Anger, and violence...”, I muse, recalling our very first conversation. “You don't like being a pony. You don't think you're better off, or that it's a gift. You feel like you've been cursed. That it has robbed you of everything...”
“No!”
“Come on... You just sang about it in front of everyone, in case you didn't notice.”
Only now does she seem to remember we're standing in the middle of a crowd. “She's lying!”, she starts yelling at the assembled ponies. “She's– she's just projecting her own issues!”
“Maybe.”, I shrug. “But I don't think so. Actually, I'm pretty sure that almost every single pony on this farm is still feeling some grief about that curse. How it robbed us of our lives, our families, our identities, our bodies... I'm just the most extreme case. And what did 'playing pony' do for you, anyway? You talk so often of 'our community', but it doesn't exist! We're all in the same boat, and yet you're all sniping at each other because you didn't end up as the same kind of pony, even when these 'other ponies' were your friends before coming here... So, was it really worth it, Keen..?”
Her only answer is to fall to her haunches, wings limp, the fight completely drained out of her. I was right... And yet, I can't say I'm especially happy about it...
Keensight is still clamming up in her defeat, but her fellow ponies were listening, too. Though I can't quite catch all the various mutterings around us, I have a pretty good idea of what they must be talking about...
Rejoining my team, I find them mopier than expected. I guess our original plan did kind of fall through... But at least Keensight's little game was a good opportunity to remind these ponies of how stupid they're all acting! Glancing back at the crowd, I see that the tribe-based groups have splintered, but the discussions have died down, most ponies looking deep in thought, and sad, and despondent...
Uh...
Well, all least they're thinking for themselves now, so, uh, I shouldn't feel bad for them... I mean, it had to happen sooner or later!
Right..?
The wooden door of the shower shed is pushed open, and Pippin sticks her head out of her improvised hideout: “No more yelling?”
“No, no more yelling...”, I answer with a sigh.
Where are we supposed to go from here, exactly..?