//------------------------------// // A Painful And Necessary Action // Story: A Slave's Freedom // by Soaring //------------------------------// As he walked away from the barn, Mr. Burr thought his hands were wiped clean. Then he remembered what he had told them, his slaves, the ones that mattered, the ones who he conversed with at the barn, at the granary; and he realized that his hands were still bloodied, and he hadn’t said his hymns that morning. He wiped his brow as he let his legs carry him to his next destination, where his brittle curiosity ran wild, to a barracks that he had constructed with the others: using bare hands, hammering nails into boards. The pain that resonated marked his hands with bruises of various sizes.  That pain reminded him of its current construction: a rickety old structure stood before him, fallen into a similar disrepair since certain parts to retain it had become scarce. Farmers around town were in dire need of assistance, but due to the war economy not spurring enough wealth in Ripley, he hadn’t scratched the itch to reimburse funds into repair. He sighed, knowing that his equity was drying up fast, and the bank would be writing an unnerving letter soon, with his name emblazoned on both the envelope and the letter. Black ink would score the page, doubled with dollar amounts not even he could imagine paying. Yet Mr. Burr walked. He walked to see this through. Not for himself, per se. Money drove him purely for his own benefit, that much was true, but his benefit also collected the dues of his slaves, especially those like Dyson, who Mr. Burr wondered if he could just stick Dyson always nearby and not have him wander off due to another guard’s ‘orders’. Mr. Burr’s orders were the ones with merit, not theirs. If they needed to order a slave around, they should consult with him first. After all, it was his slave. Property. A valuable piece of property, one that he had purchased. One that Dyson arbored. One that needed to be protected. One that Mr. Burr wanted to protect too. But why did the ones who he had hired, the ones who strode on horseback with their weapons slung over their shoulders, why did they want to harm his property? They were here to defend it, not threaten it with violence! Mr. Burr sighed as his legs had done the burning. A fence decorated this building, giving it that contrast compared to the leaky-ceiling and somewhat dilapidated structure known as a barn close by. In front of him was an old brown door with a shiny handle to boot. He did not knock, lest to alarm the guards of a slave being unruly. Instead, he kept his cool, took a deep breath to instill himself, and opened it with his hand.  The door creaked open, slowly inching forward.  Walking in, Mr. Burr set his gaze forth. Part of him wanted to check to the right, where the converted private office for which the head guard, Alston (the fool) kept himself locked up after his shift had been done. Mr. Burr knew he did not need to go into that office right away. The man loved to tour around the plantation, so time did not need to be so hurriedly observed. Besides, if Alston was in his office, Mr. Burr would have to confront him and that alone would be messy. After all, Alston would rather cause fanfare than do his job, hence the fool tagline that Mr. Burr believed Alston was owed.  Thankfully, the insult did not cost him any coin. Only quarter, which claimed a bed, a desk, a few other furnishings, which Mr. Burr had gathered for his previous head guard. The quarter was then transferred to Alston, who took it happily with a cockeyed smile. Mr. Burr did not favor this attitude, so he made sure the rest of the guards knew of this, not because he truly valued his efforts and wanted to brag about it, but because Mr. Burr knew it would alienate him from the rest—evil, yes, but collision in conflict was to be desired if the collision involved the undesired. Mr. Burr steered himself through the barracks, walking straight down the corridor and into a large open area, save for some tables and chairs anchored themselves to the rickety floorboards. A much larger table clasped against the wall to his left. On it lay some papers, strewn to direct guards of their shift, and where they sign in and out for their days. Some days Mr. Burr wondered if his guards were honest on those forms, but he could not and would not dare to trifle them… unless it was Alston. That would be of use. He walked over and scoured it. Henry was in. So was John, William, and Ernest. Alston had not borne his name onto the page, mostly because he was ill of will. There was also a smidgeon there that led Mr. Burr’s thoughts rowdy, but it was not something he needed to be privy of. He snorted, his hand grazing the list, before he sighed and turned around. Nothing was out of sorts, which meant the guards did care to some degree of decorum: tables were clean, chairs were pushed in (other than one toward the large table, which was scooted out a bit too far to his liking, but Mr. Burr knew it was a losing battle to a demon that wanted him to spring forward, walk himself to, and then indulge in shoving that pesky chair a little bit further in) and the back living space’s couch was not torn to shreds.  … He stiffened up and left the table alone, much to his shaky hands that told him otherwise.  There was nothing.  Nothing out in the open.  Just pages of the old time shifts, and one of the new.  … So, Mr. Burr tracked back to Alston’s room, the office that irked him on his way in. He picked himself up and, with a few large steps, landed right in front of his door. He knocked this time, just to give Alston a fair chance. When his knocks fell on deaf ears, he did it twice. Even thrice.  No answer. Guess it was necessary now, to barge in, his hand clasping onto the handle he had made, and pushing it forwa— A lock thwarted his movement.  He fell into the door’s embrace, only to emit a ‘oof’ that reacted to the force owned by his shoulder. He stepped back, assessed the damage, made sure to keep himself safe (of course), and then dipped into his pants pocket for his dangling keys he had reserved for this very moment. After fumbling and mumbling to himself, Mr. Burr felt the key he needed, swung it out, smiled happily, and endangered his shoulder once again as he flicked the key in, turned the lock, and— Wrong key. The lock stood proud in defiance. Mr. Burr chuckled into his hand. He could not imagine losing to a door on a lock, but here he was, letting it beat him. Wild too, as his hand searched again his pants pocket. A few more fumbles, some with feeling, he pulled out another key. He held it up, the key flickering in the limelight. Then he shoved it and turned the key. A lock happily voiced its opinion with a resounding click! that freed itself from its own pressure.  Mr. Burr let out a sigh, one he was holding unconsciously. He flicked the door handle and walked in. He took in the room and— He had to withhold his gasp. There was a problem. It was a noticeable one that sat right at the desk that Mr. Burr had crafted for the previous head guard. The desk sat furthest from the door, looking out one of the few windows the barracks had. At its attendance sat the problem. It was Alston, although his head leaned against the desk, fast asleep. If Alston wasn’t such a no-account man, Mr. Burr would have no problem with him. But here he was, slowly tiptoeing his way toward the slumbering guardsman. He stood there, seeing that his desk was not a victim of drool. Instead, papers that were on the desk were neatly cast aside, something that had made Mr. Burr nearly double-take at first. The light made it obvious, though, as it peered through the window and into this very room. What did make Mr. Burr double-take was a lone piece of paper. A note, aside from the stack, closest to Alston’s arm. It was mind-boggling that it was staying on the desk, clinging to life by a sliver of it being held by Alston’s arm. Mr. Burr wanted to grab it. So he did, gently tugging it away from Alston’s possession. He pulled it in the glare of the sun, and read it to himself. He mentally groaned. The notes were garbled, but he did take a couple of notes: Mr. Alston did report that Leo needed to be watched. Another slave by the name of Ishmael was deemed as someone who ‘stayed by Leo’ as of late. Those two points alarmed Mr. Burr. Maybe Dyson and Sable weren’t lying to him. Not that they would, especially of their place and wellbeing… He shook his head, took the note, pocketed it, and hurried to the door. He opened it, letting the door gently click to a close as he walked out.  A clean exit. Alston wouldn’t think of a thing. Walking out the door of the barracks, Mr. Burr grumbled as he held his hands in his pants pockets. He knew what the next step was. All he had to do was watch from his perch. He had two jobs now, assess his property, and assess his guards. This felt… right. Right to him to investigate further. It’s probably what his wife would’ve wanted him to do, to find a solution to an issue that someone like Dyson wanted him to do. He agreed. He agreed as he walked up the steps of his perch. I woke up with a bit of a headache. Last night I kept my watch as promised. Nothing really was worth noting. I had watched Rainbow Dash’s chest rise and fall, while she had her eyes closed, her snores soft. I also had watched around us, seeing nothing but the shadows in the dark. Then I remembered waking her up. She had thanked me for giving her some rest and then had patted me on the back with her good wing. She had said she’d keep watch and wake me up when she was ready, so I had fallen asleep, my last view of her with a tired smile on her face. Now here I was. Waking up while she was fast asleep beside me. I rubbed my head and sighed. Better survey the damage. Who knows what would be out here knocking. However, as I looked around, everything appeared as normal. Our little campsite still looked the same, minus the fire in the pit we created. The remnants of the fire were snuffed out, not even the embers remained. Then, I looked down at myself. I didn’t look like I wasn’t in one piece. My ribs didn’t look so happy though, still bruised as before. I shrugged. Guess nothing was lost so her falling asleep didn’t matter at all. That’s some good news. Getting up, I stood as tall as I could without hurting my ribs, and stretched my arms and legs. Had to be prepped for today’s walk. Even if my ribs were still hurting a bit, I needed to just bite through the pain. Maybe I should try to focus on something else? My stomach growled in response. I checked my pocket, found a couple berries still in there and ate them. The tanginess blessed my mouth and I smiled happily, chewing all the while. We didn’t have much left, so today was going to be another day of berry-finding and looking for other types of food. Rainbow Dash said there were some other things we could look for—I’ll have to ask her when she’s up. Sighing, my mind drifted back to what Luna had said to me: And I hope that when you and I meet for the first time, we shall discuss your place here. Meeting someone of power. It was… worrisome, to say the least. Most men in power were aggressive, but I guess here they were nicer… and not men. I called her caring and kind, and she shrugged it off. Yet she said she was like Rainbow Dash: a pony. It… It worried me because she had seen what I went through. She— When will you let yourself shine? You are no longer restrained by him. She told me this. It bothered me, for some reason. Restrained by him. By his Master alone? Mr. Burr… he wouldn’t have kept me locked up! … Would he? Was that what that concrete hold represented? I gritted my teeth. None of this made sense. None of it at all. I took a deep breath and carried on, turning myself back to Rainbow Dash.  We shall discuss your place here… What was my place here? Was it with her? Was it even supposed to be here? I had to get back to Mississippi! I had to get back to Sable… and to my family. I… She is waiting. But she is not with you nor does she want your pity—she is just waiting for you to move on. I groaned and sat back down next to Rainbow Dash. My leg rubbed up against her back, which made the snoring pony rustle, before mumbling to herself and going right to sleep. I brought myself closer to her face and saw that smile wear true. Good. I hadn’t disturbed her rest, even though I should—she shouldn’t have fallen asleep while she was supposed to be on watch!  But maybe it was okay to let her rest. She deserved it after going through this with me. Besides, she had more worth than me anyway. She was my guide, after all. And I was just a slave. Slave's aren't a thing here in Equestria! Even when she was asleep, she was telling me that I was wrong. And with what Luna said with my place here, maybe things could get better—maybe. Guess I had a decision to make in the future. I looked down at Rainbow Dash again. I was glad that she was around. I hope she’s dreaming happily. Just as I thought that, she stirred. I watched as she yawned rather loudly, before closing her maw. Then, she looked up at me, her eyes wide. “Uhh… how long have you been watching me, Dyson?” “Not too long…”  Her muzzle scrunched up at that as she slid a bit forward on her belly. “You’re lying.” I just shrugged. “If that’s what ya wanna believe.” Her brows furrowed. She pursed her lips before letting out a brief blow. “I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to sleep.” “Then what did ya mean to do?” I could feel my lips tug a bit up as I asked her that. “I…” Her voice trailed off just as soon as she began. “I was gonna wake you up but… but you deserved to rest after all you’ve been through. I—” “A-are you sure?” She tilted her head up at me. “Am I sure?” She stood up and grit her teeth. “Dyson, I’m more than just sure. I just… forgot to keep myself awake. I’ll make it up to you, I promise!” I blinked. She saw me in that way? “Okay…” I was too shocked by what she said, even though she told me before. Why did she see me this way? I blinked. She didn’t pay much mind to my shock. She was too busy looking herself over like I did when I woke up. She looked at her wing and winced.  “Any pain?” She shook her head. “Just a nasty looking bruise is all.” I looked at the wing and gasped. It had healed so wrong at this point—the area that I assume is where she had landed on it had grown puffy and quite yellow. I frowned, knowing that the way we met still was affecting her, but at least it didn’t hurt no more. “At least it ain’t hurtin’ ya no more.” “As long as I don’t move it,” Rainbow Dash replied lamely. She tilted her neck and cracked it, letting out a whinny. She smiled. “Felt that one. Phew!” “You good?” She nodded. “Yeah! Felt something in my neck. Guess I forgot to do my neck stretches.” I rolled my eyes. “So, we needin’ to talk ‘bout anythin’ else?” She snorted. “Not really, but I have to ask you something, Dyson.” “Hmm?” She was playing with her forehooves when she looked up at me, her eyes piercing. “Do you know what you’re going to do when we get out of here?” I tilted my head. “I ain’t sure… am I supposed to think that far ahead?” “No, it was just something I was dreaming abou—” She stopped herself by clasping her hooves over her muzzle, her eyes wide. “You were dreamin’ about me?” She let her hooves fall to her sides. “I didn’t dream about you—” “Oh good—” “—kinda.” I raised a brow at her. “Kinda?” She twiddled her hooves again. “I was worried about you. You remember when you told me you were a slave?” “Yes… and?” “I was worried about that. I didn’t want you to think you were still a slave.” I felt my lips fall short. She was thinking about that too, wasn’t she? “And if I still see myself as one?” “Then I’ll make sure you never think of that again by giving you the best tour of Ponyville ever!” “Tour?” She flapped her good wing toward me. “Duh! Ponies know me for my tours.” “I ain’t sure if I believe ya, Dash.” “You better believe it, buster!” She said, putting a hoof on my chest. Thankfully, she didn’t push it any further. She remembered my ribs, I think. “Once you’re seen by a doctor, that is. Those ribs don’t look good either.” “I’ve had worse…” Her frown glared at me. “I… I know.” She licked her lips and looked away from me. What was she thinking?  “We… should probably get going now. We’re burning daylight.” “Right…” I muttered, watching as she did a little stretch of her legs before she looked back over at me.  “Ready?” “Ready as I’ll ever be.” She smiled and led the way, galloping in front of me, rushing toward the forest ahead of us. I continued to watch her. She was so headstrong, running out there without any further thought. She was also so headstrong that she forgot to check behind her and— She looked behind her as I said that. And she saw me waving at her. “Come on, Dyson!” She shouted, beckoning me with a forehoof. “Stop goofing around, ya slowpoke!” I furrowed my brow and rolled my eyes. Just as feisty as always. “Comin’!” I shouted. With that, I ran to catch up to her. I really hope I make it out of here alive. Otherwise she might tell me I’m going too slow even in death!