//------------------------------// // Epilogue: Bury Them Deep // Story: A Great Endeavor // by Rune Soldier Dan //------------------------------// (Note: Events from the long-ago prologue are referenced here. Thank you for finishing this with me.) “Are you alright, Applejack? We’re almost there.” Applejack grunted, but nodded, pressing forward. This old hill. It had watched over Ponyville since Granny’s day, and never grew an inch. But it seemed to get higher each time she climbed it. The farm mare paused to wipe a hoof across her brow, pushing up a lock of white-blonde hair. It ain’t any higher, girl. You’re just old. She looked forward, seeing the white mare glancing back with worry. Good ol’ Redheart. Retired some ten, twenty years ago, but still a nurse at heart. It was a little embarrassing. Redheart was even older than Applejack, but remained in better shape. All those years spent applebucking had taken their toll, finally wearing down her body to a shadow of its former strength. Couldn’t hardly get out of bed these days without a muscle cramping up on her. She was dang old, and it was no dang fun. Applejack gave a grin at her grey-maned companion and resumed walking. There was nothing to complain about. The soreness came from a life of honest work. The white hairs – as she liked to tell it – came from the kids. She wore them both proudly. They were badges of honor, just like that American medal they gave her, or the old frostbite holes in her ear. They all were a part of who she was. Finally cresting the hill, she noticed Redheart had stopped. The retired nurse wasn’t kidding when she said they were almost there. But…there wasn’t anything here. Just grass. Applejack glanced around, nonplussed. “Well?” Redheart gave a little laugh. “Three steps to the right, and you’d be standing on his head.” Applejack blinked and turned, scowling. Nothing. Her eyes were getting cloudy, but they weren’t blind. No…there. A mound of dirt, barely raised above the ground level. Home to generations of grass and wildflowers. She’d miss it easy if she wasn’t looking for something. How many ponies had climbed up here these past years without knowing what lay beneath their hooves? “No tombstone, or marker or nothing?” Applejack raised an eyebrow. It had taken Redheart this long to part with the secret, but Applejack was still expecting a little more than an unmarked grave. The old nurse smiled, gaze turning to the distance. “I…I don’t think he would want one.” She closed her eyes, trying to remember his face. The photographer. For Equestria, it all started with him. An unknown man from a strange land, carrying his horrible pictures. The one who brought them to war. All ponykind turned on its head overnight, and the one responsible just vanished in the aftermath. Only one pony knew where he went. Now, there were two. Redheart’s voice trembled a little as she went on. “I don’t think…I don’t really think he wanted to be remembered. When they brought him to me, I asked him the questions a nurse is supposed to ask. What was his name? Where was he from? He just waved the questions away, coughing his rattling cough until he lost the strength to even do that. ‘Don’t ask, don’t ask,’ he said.” She swallowed hard. “He didn’t have anything that gave us any clues about him. Nothing that told us his name, or country, or religion. Just a camera. The one little thing that woke us all up.” “And…this.” She passed a weathered, black-and-white photograph to Applejack. The image was worn and faded, but still unmistakably a pony. It looked like a candid picture, its subject gazing away as if unaware. White and a darker color mixed beautifully atop her head. She was an earth pony, looking out with fear and hope. Applejack flipped the picture over. No name or date written on the back. Just two words that brought her heart to her throat. ”You lived.” “Who…?” “Who knows?” Redheart sighed. “A pony with dreams turned to ash. Life cut short. Not even a martyr – just a victim. Murdered without cause. One of them. ALL of them.” She gave the little mound a gentle touch with her hoof. “Anonymous, just like him. He couldn’t leave them to die unknown, so he carried them all here on his back. Maybe leaving his name behind was how he dealt with it. To become a ghost, even though his heart was still beating.” A sad smile. “But maybe it’s simpler than that. Maybe he just didn’t want his name to be hated.” Applejack tilted her head. “Hated?” Redheart tapped the farm mare’s shoulder, then moved a hoof up to touch a ragged orange ear. “Some days I hated him. When I read about the Driel Massacre, or when we took to the front lines and lost so many. I wondered if it was on his hands. Your own pain, too. If it wasn’t for him, you would never have fought, never have suffered from war.” Applejack smiled, her own gaze turning to the mound. “No hard feelings here. He didn’t make us do anything. Just gave us the facts and let us make the choice. We chose to sprint towards the horror, knowing there were folks who needed help. Everything that followed was on us. And I’ll go to my grave knowing that we chose right.” “I hope so,” Redheart said. “I believe so. But who could say it at the time? After all he’d seen, maybe he stopped believing in our better nature. Maybe he thought grey, steel hate was all that was left. That’s why…” She shook her head, tears coming from her eyes. “That’s why I set him here. From up here, he can see all of Ponyville. See the foals play. See us laugh and work together, and help each other when we need to. See us fight without killing, and forgive when the squabble is done.” Applejack reached a hoof over to hug her. Redheart was sobbing now as she spoke. “He showed us that there was hate and pain engulfing the world. There was misery, rage and indifference and death.” “I guess I wanted to show him that Love lived on.” With the last words out, Redheart calmed herself. She sniffed and smiled, her breathing growing normal once more. They stayed up there a while longer, chatting about grandchildren and the planting season. Only when the sun began sinking did they turn to leave. Applejack loitered a moment, looking back to the little mound. Poor guy, she thought to herself. She walked back to him and settled a hoof down on the mound. The grass was sun-warmed and soft. Felt nice. A thoughtful silence. She wanted to say something. But what? Not to thank him – Redheart had a point, talking about the pain she never would have gone through if not for him. Not to yell at him, either. He did what he thought was right. She thought it was right, too. Say goodbye? No. She never met him. Him and countless others that the war killed. He died in Equestria, but it killed him just as surely as ol’ Manny. “Be at peace,” she finally said. The words felt good, so she went on. “You, and all of you down there. Be at peace. I’ll try ‘n do the same.” Nothing else to say. Applejack softly brushed her hoof across the grass, feeling a smile grow on her face. Maybe one more thing. “Next time, I’ll plant some flowers.”