//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: Hearts of Hay // by bahatumay //------------------------------// Pound and Pumpkin were surrounded by cupcake wrappers and wax paper, feasting on their baked spoils. Pumpkin roll, cupcakes of various flavors, puffed rice treats, slices of pie, cookies; bits of frosting, sprinkles, and cake crumbs flew everywhere. Nothing was safe from the twins’ ravenous sweet teeth. But Cornsilk was holding her own right along with them. She’d been hesitant to try anything at first, but once she tried one of the cookies, it was like a firework of flavor had gone off in her mind. She dove in head first and everything on the table was fair game. Her favorite seemed to be the caramel corn, but she was willing to try everything Pound or Pumpkin suggested.  Apple Bloom was fairly certain she’d even eaten some of the paper wrappings, though that might not have been intentional. She must not have had much in the way of sweets back home. She mentally resolved to skew any candy trades in her favor. The band ended their song, and Mayor Mare stepped up to the microphone. “Thank you, everypony, and welcome to the Nightmare Night festival!” she started. Pumpkin knew this one. “Ooh! It’s almost time for the story! Come on, I want a good seat!” she said, bouncing in place and making her spider legs shake. She and Pound went running, and Apple Bloom gamely went along, and Cornsilk followed, but not before grabbing another sugar cookie for the trip. “Zecora tells a scary story every year,” Apple Bloom explained as they walked. “She used to tell the story of Nightmare Night, but ever since Princess Luna returned, she's been finding other spooky stories to tell.” “Princess Luna?” “You know, the Mare in the Moon?” Cornsilk’s ears pricked. “Ooh,” she said, intrigued. “Crystal Eyes said there used to be a Mare in the Moon, but one night, she vanished, and the Moon stayed up through the next day looking for her. I think the Moon found her again, because the sun came back up.” “Sounds romantic,” Apple Bloom said as Pound stuck his tongue out in exaggerated disgust. “Well, I don’t think anything’s impossible with enough love,” Cornsilk said firmly.  “I could believe that,” Pound offered. “I love candy, and now I’m eating it. Doesn’t get much better than that.”  Pumpkin giggled. After thanking everypony who had made this night possible, Mayor Mare continued, “Please, give a warm welcome to Ponyville’s famed storyteller, Zecora!” Zecora stepped into the light to excited stomps. Cornsilk gasped. “What happened to her?” she whispered, horrified. “Did she get burned?” “No,” Apple Bloom said kindly, remembering the last time she’d been around ponies unfamiliar with zebras. “She’s a zebra. Her coat naturally looks like that.” “Oh. Why?” Cornsilk asked. Apple Bloom opened her mouth to answer, and then closed it. In all their time together, she’s never actually asked why her coat looked like that. “I’m not quite sure,” she admitted.  “Shh!” Pumpkin hissed. “She’s starting!” Zecora lifted a foreleg and began, her voice low and mysterious. “Search any farm, and your search will yield / a scarecrow standing in the field.” She tossed a hoofful of powder on the ground, and green mist arose, forming the image of a scarecrow supported in a cornfield. “But where do these crop defenders go, when they come untied and the winds do blow?” she continued. Apple Bloom glanced over and saw the young filly staring, seemingly enthralled by the story. She smiled and turned back to Zecora. “Sometimes scarecrows blow away in the wind, / and our paths will never cross again.” She blew on the construct, and the scarecrow tumbled away, as if blown by the wind, and the scene faded. With a little smile, she threw another hoofful of powder, and a new scene unfolded. “But the wild magic of Everfree / can bring these rags to life, you see.”  Now surrounded by the forest, the scarecrow straightened up and began to shuffle like a zombie pony, causing the crowd to gasp. “And so a beast of sticks and hay / wanders the earth, or so they say. // Like the ponies who made them, they love to grow / and they always surely hate the crows.” “Yeah, I hate crows,” Cornsilk added angrily under her breath, sounding like she was speaking through gritted teeth. “They eat everything.” Apple Bloom smirked. Spoken like a true farmer. “But a living scarecrow has work to do / very much like me and you. // So what, then, must they do to their fields / to ensure a bounteous and fulfilling yield?” She held up the powder and blew, forming an earth pony. “Oh, the terrifying thrill / a living pony will fit the bill! // And a second goal for these strawmares: / Vengeance against those who abandoned them there!” In the green mist, living scarecrows set the pony up on a stand and tied him in place. Apple Bloom glanced over at Cornsilk, excited to see how she was taking this, but her mouth was turned down. She must have been scared. She scooted slightly closer. “So if you find in the forest a small cleared spot, / you may have found a scarecrow’s plot. // Leave that place and turn your tail, / for they will chase you without fail. // They will not stop, they will not yield / until you are the one standing in their fields!” She laughed dramatically and threw one final hoofful of powder at the ground, and an enormous scarecrow leaped seemingly out of the air and opened its stitched mouth wide, seemingly ready to swallow up a living pony. Pumpkin shrieked as the scarecrow landed with its mouth around her, but it exploded harmlessly into green dust. With a maniacal cackle, Zecora stepped backwards and faded into the shadows. The story now over, the music started up again, and the party resumed.  Cornsilk sat there, seemingly frozen in place. Apple Bloom gently nudged her, again taken aback at how light she seemed to be. “Are you ok?” “I don’t… know,” she answered, her voice low and uncertain. “I don't think that's how it happens at all.” “Yeah, me neither,” Apple Bloom agreed. “‘Course, I don't believe in scarecrow ponies, either. Not really. But sometimes it's fun to be scared, you know?” “I didn’t like it,” Cornsilk said softly. “And I didn’t think it was very fun.” Apple Bloom pursed her lips. She wasn’t having a good time, and Pinkie wouldn’t have approved of that. “Don’t worry,” she said brightly. “There’s still plenty of more activities to do tonight, and a lot more food. This party’s just getting started.” A sharp whistle split the air. “Hey, listen up!” shouted what looked like a small sphinx standing on a cloud. Apple Bloom squinted. “Is that Rainbow Dash?” she asked. It was. Rainbow Dash pointed. “There’s a big storm front moving in from the Everfree Forest! Came out of nowhere! We’re going to try to contain it, but there’s gonna be a lot of lightning! Party’s over! Everypony needs to go for cover, now!” Apple Bloom huffed. Her and her big mouth.  Cornsilk’s ears pinned. “I gotta get home,” she said quickly. “I’ll walk you back,” Apple Bloom offered. “No, it’s ok, I know the way back,” she said, quickly backing up. “I can’t just let a filly wander around the Everfree Forest,” Apple Bloom laughed lightly. “I’m coming with you.” “It’s fine. Really.” Apple Bloom narrowed her eyes. She’d been in the Everfree Forest enough times to know that while an alert foal could make it through during the day, it became a whole different beast at night. “I know, but I’ll come along, anyway.” She must have been getting good at her ‘grown-up’ voice, because Cornsilk’s ears drooped, and she didn’t attempt to argue further. She hurried the foals along until their house was in sight. “Alright, Sugarcube Corner is right there. Run home, go straight inside.” Something else occurred to her. “And don’t touch any of my candy until I get back.” “We won’t,” they chorused innocently.  For some reason, this did not fill Apple Bloom with confidence. She narrowed her eyes. “Pinkie Promise,” she ordered. Pound and Pumpkin nervously looked at each other. That ominous peal of thunder was probably just from the incoming storm, right? Either way, they quickly said the words and made the motions in sync.  Apple Bloom gave them a satisfied nod, and they took off running. She turned to Cornsilk, who clearly hadn’t understood a word of that. “Now, let’s get you home.” Apple Bloom was no stranger to the Everfree Forest, but Cornsilk led her down paths she hadn’t known were there. Thankfully, they seemed to be heading away from the storm’s direct path, but still, she was a speedy filly. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think she was actually trying to lose her in the forest.  Finally, Cornsilk slowed to a stop and turned to face her. “Ok. Here’s good,” she said, taking a small step back and clearly hoping that this would be the end of it. “Thanks for walking me back.” Apple Bloom slowly spun around, looking for any signs of pony habitation, or even another pony; but there was nothing here. “There’s nothing here,” she said. “I’m not abandoning a filly in the middle of the Everfree Forest,” she finished with a light chuckle, only to realize that while she’d been looking around, Cornsilk had disappeared into the forest. She scowled. “Not cool,” she hissed, scuffing a hoof irritably. She could have accepted this, but she felt a sense of responsibility for this strange filly, even though she’d only met her tonight. She raised her ears, trying to hear anything. “If this is a joke, it's not real funny,” she called warningly. All she heard was the sounds of the forest at night. “Oh, I’m going to regret this,” she grumbled, but she headed deeper into the forest in search of her.   Apple Bloom walked through the forest as quietly as she could, both to not disturb any animals and to see if she could hear Cornsilk. She couldn’t have gone far. The Everfree Forest was too dense for full-on running. Not that she’d know this from personal experience, of course. After crossing over fallen logs, patches of mushrooms, animal paths, and avoiding a nasty patch of poison joke, she came to the conclusion that she was lost.  Not ideal.  But calling out for Cornsilk might get her some attention she didn’t want, and while Fluttershy could talk down a manticore, she wasn’t so sure she was up to that. Especially after all the pies she’d eaten tonight.  And then she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. She neared cautiously.  It was a little village. She could see buildings all in a row, small, rough hewn, and made of wood.  Relieved, Apple Bloom made to step forward. This must have been where Cornsilk lived. Once she’d verified that she’d made it back safely, she could take shelter from that coming storm here. But before she stepped out of the woods, something made her pause. It was Nightmare Night, sure; but why was everypony dressed as a scarecrow? Was there some kind of village theme going on? Because, seriously, they were everywhere. It looked like every single pony was dressed as a scarecrow. The colt playing with marbles, the two mares chatting on the corner, even the old pony sitting on a rocking chair in front of what must have been the local general store. All scarecrows, and each was wearing a hat. And some of these ponies were getting really into it. One mare was even carrying a lifeless, stuffed scarecrow filly on her back as she trotted down the street.  Apple Bloom smiled wryly. She would look out of place if she came out now. A rodeo pony surrounded by scarecrows. Her hat didn’t even look anything like theirs. Two colts ran by, wearing costumes nearly identical to Cornsilk’s but with different colored bandanas, laughing as they did, seemingly having no trouble at all breathing through the burlap.  And then the one in front got his hind leg caught in one of the bars in front of the store. He didn’t notice, but he did notice when he kept moving and it remained stuck, and it tore off. The burlap covering collapsed, sending hay flying. Apple Bloom’s heart stopped.  Not a costume. Not a costume. Not a costume! He stumbled and caught himself with his three remaining legs, and let out a low groan, not nearly as concerned as Apple Bloom would think, considering hay was spilling out of the hole in his flank. “Aw, not again,” he said dejectedly.  “Hey, Mom?” the second one called.  One of the mares chatting looked over and understood instantly. She came over and pulled a sewing kit out of her saddle bag, like a first aid kit. “My little hat, you must be more careful. You’re going to be more patches than burlap at this rate,” she sighed.  “It was just my leg,” the colt defended himself, but he stood still as she stuffed the hay back in and sewed his leg back on. He wasn’t in pain, just annoyed, like this was just a trip to the farrier instead of what should have been intensive surgery.  It seemed that this was a common procedure, because she was soon finished. “That should do it,” she said. “What of your neck stitches, are they loose?” she asked, like a mother making sure her foal’s face was clean.   “Mom, I’m fine,” he protested, pushing her hooves away.  Apple Bloom took a few shaky steps backwards. Zecora’s story came flashing to the front of her mind, and while she knew her story had likely been exaggerated for the sake of Nightmare Night, she couldn’t shake the thought of being strung up in a field somewhere. After all, there had to be some basis in fact to the story.  Especially because there were actual living scarecrows here! Could she sneak away? Had she been seen? She didn’t think so. She could back away, quietly, and no one would know she was here, she could make it back to Ponyville, and noscarecrow would be the wiser. She shuffled backwards deeper into the forest.  And then a rag that tasted very much like hay was stuffed in her mouth.