//------------------------------//
// Gathering Clouds 
// Story: Caramel's Light 
// by Squeak-anon 
//------------------------------//

	“Caramel! Get your flank up, boy!” Called Grampa Jonagold’s harsh voice from downstairs.
Caramel’s body complained as he rolled over in bed. His everything hurt. It had taken hours to collect all the apples from the soggy ground and the rain, which had turned into a proverbial monsoon, hadn’t helped matters. His joints had settled into a slow steady ache and he hadn’t gotten much sleep. He opened his tired eyes to see that the sun hadn’t risen yet. 
This is going to be fun, he thought morosely. 
“You got five minutes!” 
Caramel flinched in bed, knowing his grandfather meant business. He rolled over onto the floor, lying there for a moment. A small wave of sadness flowed down his spine, his grandfather had been on good terms with him. Admittedly for a small moment, built on lies, but still a moment. It’d been nice. 
“Four Minutes!” 
But now it was over. 
He let out a slow breath, the dust bunnies that had collected around the bed went spinning slowly through the air. 
Nothing to do but face the consequences. 
Caramel righted himself, and trudged out of his room and down the stairs. The clouds from yesterday’s rain lingered in the sky, as a result everything both inside and out looked grey and washed out. Caramel allowed himself a bitter inward laugh. 
Fitting. 
He could hear Toffee working in the kitchen, from the sound of it scrubbing pots. He stole a glance as he walked past, noticing the mountain of kitchenware she had yet to start on. Knowing his Grandfather, he had the feeling she would be doing housework until the very sight of a pot sent her into fits. 
They shared a momentary look of mutual pity as Caramel walked into the dining room to face his grandfather, who was sitting behind an outstretched edition of the Equestria Daily. There was an air of cold in the room. Caramel shivered. 
It was a while before he found his voice. “Yes grandp-” 
“That’s sir,” said the old stallion curtly.
Caramel decided it was safest to nod. 
His grandfather put the paper down sharply, and glared at Caramel. “Do you know why you’re getting such an early start?” 
Caramel shook his head.
“Because, I want you home before midnight. And do you know why you might not get home before then?” 
Caramel shook his head again.
“Because, the cart is filled with new stock, and I don’t want to see hide nor hair of’ya till every single apple is sold. Hear me boy?” 
Caramel opened his mouth, but a glare killed any protest he might have had. 
“Yes sir...” he said simply. His ears pinned themselves to the back of his head as he walked out the door into the early morning air. 
The ground was still soggy from last night’s rain. Caramel’s hooves sunk into the moist earth with every step, making the trek to the barn all the harder. He opened the doors to find the cart, as his grandfather had told him, fully stocked. Every bushel was filled to bursting with all kinds of apples. His Grandfather had understated just how much ‘New Stock’ there was. Caramel could hardly see the cart under the mountain of fruit. It was going to be a feat to get to ponyville without spilling any. 
Caramel hung his head, and set about harnessing himself up to start pulling it. 
It’s going to be a good day Caramel. He thought morosely.
He set his hooves in against the ground, and tried to go forwards, only to end up dragging them through the moist hay that covered the barn floor. He tried again several times to no avail. He strained, and grunted pulling with all his might until he feared his shoulders would fall off. 
Finally Caramel slumped to the ground, defeated. 
I haven’t even started yet, he thought. I haven’t even started and already I’m failing. 
His vision clouded for a moment. There was another wave of sadness, cold and biting. Caramel shivered, laying his cheek against the floor, the hay stuck him uncomfortably, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. 
Useless, he thought. 
The door to the barn opened, Caramel didn’t look up, he figured it was just his grandfather coming to yell at him for taking too long. He closed his eyes and prepared for the tirade. 
There was a creaking sound as the cart behind him got lighter. 
His head swiveled to see the old stallion unloading three bustles of the stock, and setting them in the corner. He did so wordlessly, with a tight lipped unreadable expression. Caramel watched in silence as he unloaded two more, then quietly walked to the door.
Caramel managed to find his mouth.
“You...don’t want to sell those?...” he asked, having thought of nothing else. 
His Grandfather paused in the doorway, the cast a glance over his shoulder. “Need to check for bad apples.” 
There was a pause as the two of them stared at one another. It was a while before Grampa Jonagold finally spoke again. 
“Look boy, I don’t want to kill’ya. Just make it home safe alright?”  With that he turned and walked back to the house. 
Caramel blinked a few times, then got up and attempted to move forwards. Without the extra weight the cart rolled after a bit of a strain. He cast a look towards the retreating form of his Grandfather as the old stallion shut the front door. Then back at the bushels he no longer had to carry. There were still mountains of apples for him to sell, but they’d gone from soul crushing to moderately soul intimidating. 
He stared at them for a moment, before starting the long trek to the ponyville market. 

By the time he got there the sun was peaking over the horizon, a pale yellow dot behind a curtain of clouds. Several thoughts were going through Caramel’s mind, most of them blocked out by the blinding pain in his shoulders. He slumped in the middle of the square, earning a few odd looks from some passers by, though they paid him little mind, with the exception of the occasional pony in fancy dress whose glares he could feel from the other side of town. He tried his best to ignore them, and after a moment of rest on the ground, he set about unloading. 
It was no small task, it reminded him of a game he’d seen some unicorns playing as a foal, where they’d magically removed one wooden block from a tower of them, in hopes it wouldn’t fall over, the main difference being that the cleanup in his case would probably take a lot longer and involve an ambulance in some way.
It was an arduous, slow task, but eventually Caramel managed to empty the cart, finishing when the sun, nearly invisible behind a wall of clouds, was quite a bit higher than when he had started. He let out a sigh, situated himself behind the counter, and tried his hardest not to fall asleep.
He looked blearily out at the ponies who crossed in front of his path. No customers would come, this he was fairly sure of, he’d made that a certainty the previous day. He slumped down by the register, resting his chin on the countertop he let out a long sigh. 
And history repeats itself. 
He was unsure how long he sat there feeling sorry for himself, but the time seemed to stretch on for hours, though every time he looked up at the dingy hidden shape of the sun, it never seemed to move. Though it was autumn the air was muggy and humid. He flicked his ear at an errant bug who had decided it was a good place to land, and refused to give up on the idea. This served as his only distraction until he heard a familiar voice clear its throat to the right of him.
Caramel looked up to see the fancy pony from a few days ago standing their tapping a hoof impatiently. She was wearing a large dress that made him quite certain she was hiding several other ponies underneath it, and perhaps a fruit basket. 
A memory surfaced in his mind.
I’ll take her offer....
He’d thought that, right after telling off all the business she’d sent his way. He took a moment to consider just how paradoxical that was. 
Obviously I am ever the shrewd businesspony, he thought morosely. She’s probably here to tell me what an idiot I am.
He sighed, and turned to face her.
“Um hello...” It suddenly occurred to him that he had never actually asked for her name. His face flushed, and at the back of his mind his inner grandmother chastised him. “You...” he finished lamely. 
“Hello to you as well. I had figured your upbringing never taught you to ask a lady’s name, this is our third meeting and you seem to have yet to do so.” She neglected to mention the fact she’d never asked for his either. He had a feeling it wasn’t of great consequence to her besides. “Quartet, if you must.” 
“Um....yeah...sorry about that...Quartet...” The name stuck to his teeth a bit and it came out sounding a bit more like ‘Quater’ than he’d intended. She didn’t seem to notice, or if she did she didn’t care. “I’m Caramel by the way.” 
Quartet nodded, but barely. “Well, it’s about time we exchanged titles, Carmel.” 
Caramel decided to ignore the fact she mispronounced his name and take the fact she’d said it at all as complement. 
She adjusted her skirt, Caramel unconsciously checked to see if any fruit rolled out.  “Am I to assume this means you will take me up on my offer finally?” 
He blinked. 
She gave him a level stare. “Well? Am I?”
“Y-you still want me too?” 
She raised an eyebrow. “You mean even after you scared away half of my friends with your rather loutish demeanor? Yes. If only because I heard you shoved an apple into Monocle’s big fat mouth and, despite my ladylike disposition, that is hilarious.”
Caramel blinked again.  
“What? He had to go to the dentist to get it removed, all the highest social orders have been laughing about it for weeks.”
Caramel blinked a third time. 
“I’m allowed to laugh every now and again aren’t I!?” She huffed. “I swear, what do you farmponies think we do all day? Sit around and eat crumpets?”
“Yes,” Caramel answered automatically.
Quartet shot him a glare. 
“Um....I mean...among other things.” 
She turned her nose up. “In anycase, you still have not answered my question Carmel. Yes, or no?” 
Caramel paused for a moment. His grandfather would probably frown on this, especially while he was being punished. He cast a glance towards the mountain of apples behind him, then at Quartet, and an idea floated to the surface of his brain. 
Unless I finish my punishment early....
Caramel took a deep breath. “I’ll do it.” 
Quartet’s face broke out into a smile. The first one Caramel had seen that didn’t seem to come from reference in a book of etiquette. “Wonderful! My boutique shall look quite lovel-”
“Under one condition.” 
She paused, smile fading to a more businesslike expression.  
“Condition?” 
He nodded slowly. “My price.” 
Quartet gave him a look. “That is hardly a condition, that is to be expec-”
“I’d like to be paid right now, by you buying every apple I have currently in stock.”


Applejack stared dumbfounded as ponies in workmen's clothes moved bushel after bushel of apples onto the back of a moving cart, signed with a very opulent looping pink script that read Quartet Cuts. Caramel sat next to her, somewhat dumbfounded himself. 
“And...you’re sayin’ that actually worked?...”
“Eyup,” said Caramel.
“You sold, not seventy apples, but seventy bushels of apples, in less than five seconds?’
“Eyup.”
“And she paid you...in bits...right there.”
“Eyup.” Caramel gestured to his saddlebag, which was filled to bursting with small circles of gold. “Turns out there wasn’t any fruit in that dress...just a lot of pockets...”
“What’s that?”
“Um...nothing...” Caramel said quickly. “In return I start work on a large sign for the Quartet Cuts boutique tomorrow morning.”
Applejack bit her bottom lip. “Um...are you sure Jonagold’s gonna let ya’ll do that? Last I heard he was awful mad at ya.”
Caramel paused. “Well...the way I see it he punished me, I got through the punishment and made enough money to keep the farm running for months in the course of a day. He can’t stay mad for too long can he?”
Applejack shrugged. “I dono, he ain’t exactly known to forget quickly. And I don’t think money was ever really the point.”
Caramel lowered his head a bit. “Well...yeah...I know, I shouldn’t have lied...and I won’t, ever again. Apple Honesty right?” He sighed. “I really just wanted him to be proud of me anyway...maybe this’ll impress him...and I won’t even have to lie anymore anyway.”
He felt a hoof on his shoulder and looked up to see Applejack smiling a bit. “Now come on, I have no doubt he’s proud of ya, you didn’t have to sell seven apples for that. If he didn’t love you, and didn’t have any pride in you, he wouldn’t have taken it so hard that you lied to him.”
Caramel felt a bit of guilt begin to gnaw at his stomach a bit. He let out another sigh. 
“I shouldn’t have done it. That was stupid.”
Applejack tapped him on the head. “We can agree there.”
Caramel looked at her for a moment. 
“Hey, calls’em as I sees’em. But at least you meant well.” She smiled again. “What are you gonna do now?” 
Caramel looked up at the sun, it was still fairly high in the sky behind the curtain of clouds. “Well...I’m not expected back at the farm for another few hours...” He looked back at the now empty cart as the last bushel was loaded up. A small smile slowly spreading across his features. “I think I’ll go to the library.”
Applejack smirked. “Ahh, I see, going to see your sweetheart?” 
Caramel’s face flushed. “Um...no!....I mean....yes....if we are...I mean we haven’t really...I...”
Applejack mercifully, shoved him in the general direction of the large tree in the town square. “Well go on get! Geeze, no wonder Toffee likes teasin’ ya so much. You make it too easy.”
Caramel decided it was best to just glare at her and wave. He couldn’t keep up the glare long and a smile snuck its way back onto his face as the library got larger in his field of vision. 
Today’s actually turning out to be a pretty good day. 
As he thought that, the clouds above finally decided to burst, thick heavy raindrops began to pelt him. 
Caramel laughed, he couldn’t help it. That was just his luck. Still, as he started to gallop to the library to get out of the rain, he could think of no better place to take shelter from the coming storm.