For Want of a Nail
For most ponies, spring and fall are the busiest times of the year. Crops need to be planted or harvested, and even if your own crops don’t need attention, somepony else’s do.
Planting and harvest seasons are times of camaraderie, ponies lending each other equipment or getting in harness in somepony else’s field. The first day is always the worst; ponies bump into each other or get harnesses tangled or trip on turns.
So far you’ve done all right. A few bumps here and there, but you’ve managed to stay on your hooves for the entire day.
You reek of mud and sweat and corn. A quick rinse off in the farm pond wasn’t enough to really do the job, but you’re too tired to care.
You had a few snacks with everypony else and then said your goodbyes, already anticipating walking back home alone.
Lavender Fritter also called an early night. She did go down once, and still has some mud caked on her belly and in her tail. She didn’t spend long enough in the pond.
“I’m beat.” She sticks out her tongue.
“Spend too much time lazing about in the summer?”
“I wish. No, Rosemary wasn’t pulling as hard as she usually does and I had to do extra work.”
You frown. It might be true, but most ponies do their best when they’re working the fields. Nopony benefits from slackers. You’ve never seen Rosmary slack off at a task; she jumps into things with all four hooves.
“Don’t blame her, she just got out of the hospital a couple days ago.”
“Really?” Your ears twitch. “I hadn’t heard.”
“Colic,” Lavender says. “That’s what Apple Leaves says anyway.”
“Probably shouldn’t have been in the field.”
“Yeah.” There’s a perception that when there’s work to be done, it should be done, no excuse. You know more than a few ponies who have worked when they shouldn’t—you’ve been guilty of it yourself.
“Would have been short-hooved if she wasn’t.”
Which would have put you behind on Sunglow’s cornfield, and that delay would have spilled over to Spring Snow’s field, and before too long some ponies would be petitioning the pegasi for a pause in the weather so they had more time to harvest.
Meanwhile, ponies whose crops hadn’t matured yet would complain if the rain didn’t come on schedule.
It was a dilemma every year. Sick ponies, injured ponies, broken equipment. You can’t help but notice that Apple Honey has her lanterns lit and her front door open; as you walk by her shop you see her bent over a corn binder, working on the chain.
Lavender noticed, too. “If she doesn’t get that fixed by tomorrow—”
“Yeah.” Every corn binder in Ponyville is currently in constant usage.
“Coming through!”
The two of you step to the side on pure instinct, getting out of the way of a farm wagon piled high with corn, enroute to the train station. It’s followed by a market wagon pulled by a colt, also loaded with corn.
“One more week.” Lavender sighs. “And then we’ll have a little bit of downtime before another cutting in the hayfields.”
“At least corn isn’t itchy.” The two of you stay off the road in case more wagons come by. “Did Cherry Berry and Comet Tail ever get their hay rake fixed?”
“I think so, I think they used it for first cut.”
“Oh yeah.” You remember seeing them out in the field with it.
The two of you arrive at an intersection in town and hesitate. Here’s where you part ways; Lavender’s farm is off to the left, while you’ll keep going straight.
You nuzzle, and then you watch as Lavender turns and starts to walk down the street. Only then do you notice that her gait’s off. Tiredness, or something else?
Probably tiredness. You’re not steady on your hooves, either. But you should say something.
“Lavender?”
She stops and turns her head back.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just . . . I lost a nail.”
“Let me see.”
“It’s fine, I lose them all the time.”
You’re already moving in her direction, and she stands in place until you get up next to her.
“Which hoof?” You can tell by the way she’s walking, but you want to make sure.
“Left hind.” She cocks her leg and you lean down to look.
You were tired, and her hooves were still muddy, but you still should have noticed. She’s lost two nails and her shoe’s loose. Even in the dim lamplight you can see that.
“I don’t have very good hooves,” she says. “Not the first time one’s come loose.”
“You’ll be lucky to still have it in the morning,” you say. “Really ought to stop by Shoeshine’s and have her fix it.”
“It’s late, and she’s been working her tail off getting ready for harvest season,” Lavender protests. “I’m not too worried about it.”
[CHOICE]
>Insist she goes to Shoeshine and gets it fixed now before it’s a big problem (hero)
>Lavender knows her own hooves, it’s none of your business (chaos)
[CHOICE A: Hero]
“You should be,” you tell her. “It’s loose now, you might lose it on the way home, and then what?”
“I’ve worked with a missing shoe before.”
You shake your head. “The way that thing looks, you’re gonna catch your toe on something and rip it the rest of the way out. Come on, we’re not far from Shoeshine’s and I bet she’s still up.”
“She’ll tell me that I need to take it easy for a couple of days.”
You nod. “She might. I bet Nurse Redheart told Rosemary to take it easy for a couple of days, too, and she was out in harness before she was ready. So instead of losing her completely for one or two days, we might have a week where she’s not pulling as well as she could.”
“Everypony knows I’ve got lousy hooves.” Lavender objects.
“All the more reason to see Shoeshine now.” You point a hoof down the road—it’s only a couple of blocks. “Don’t make me drag you down there by your tail.”
“You wouldn't dare.”
She sees the serious expression on your face. “Okay, fine.” She flicks her tail a couple times and then turns and starts to walk in the direction of Shoeshine’s shop, with you following along to make sure she doesn’t change her mind.
A few minutes later, the two of you are in her shop. Lavender’s got a hoof up on the stand, while Shoeshine examines it. She finally reaches a verdict, and grabs her bucket of tools and brings them over. “You came in just in time,” she says. “You’d have lost that shoe before you got home, and odds are it would have torn some of your hoof out with it. Right now, I can fix it easy, and you’ll be ready to work tomorrow—if you’d have lost it . . . with the hooves you’ve got, you’d be out for a full moon.”
[CHOICE B: Chaos]
Everypony’s hooves are different, and you trust that Lavender knows her body better than you. If she says she’ll be fine, she will be—she wouldn’t lie about something like that. Especially not around harvest time, when everypony needs to be at a hundred percent all day long.
“I just thought I’d mention it,” you say. “Have a good night.”
“You, too.”
You watch her till the end of the block, then shake your head and go on your way. Tomorrow’s another busy day, and you need your rest. It’s not worth wasting breath arguing.
•••
“Where’s Lavender Fritter?” You look around the assembled ponies. It’s not like her to be late.
“Lost a shoe,” Rosemary said. “Heard it from Pinkie Pie this morning. Didn’t even make it all the way home last night, poor thing. Had to hobble back to town on three legs—she tore up her hoof pretty good.”
“That stupid, stubborn mule,” you mutter. “I told her to go see Shoeshine.”
“Shoulda dragged her by her tail,” Rosemary said.
“Figured she’d know best.”
“You figured wrong. And now I’ve gotta try and pull this corn binder all by myself.”
“You’re not in any shape to do it,” you remind her. “Lavender told me you just got out of the hospital for colic.”
“Corn isn’t gonna harvest itself,” she mutters and backs up to the corn binder, first to the near side and then she remembers she’s flying solo and shifts over to the center.
You sigh. Another harvest season is underway.