//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: Slate Shard's Lament // Story: Oh Mother, Where Art Thou? // by Locomotion //------------------------------// A huge bang erupted from the side of the mountain, and a deluge of slate tumbled down the cliffs to land on the quarry floor. A few yards away stood a group of rugged-looking ponies, all waiting for the all-clear before making their way over to the face of the cliff; most of them were very scruffy and very dirty, and plenty were riddled with scars from previous mishaps within the quarry. But one pony in particular, a dull orange stallion with a fiery red mane and tail, a tattered grey neckerchief and cloth cap and a Cutie Mark consisting of two crossed pickaxes against a pile of rocks, seemed oblivious to what was going on around him – he simply stared into the heavens, a longingly distant expression in his eyes. “Okay, everypony, it's safe to proceed!” The other ponies immediately headed back to the quarry face, but the stallion remained where he was. He was too distracted even to notice the foreman coming his way. “Come on, Slate Shard, we haven't got all day!” barked the foreman sharply. “How can we load those trucks if you just sit here looking sorry for yourself?!” “Oh – uh...sorry, sir,” apologised the stallion in a weary, gravelly but nevertheless soft voice, and quickly trotted towards the quarry face, a long train of empty slab wagons trailing behind. The foreman glared at him. “Honestly – the ponies I have to work with these days!” he growled. Slate Shard merely hung his head as he pulled the empty trucks into a siding for the other quarry-ponies to load up. It was his job to haul the trucks between the quarry and the cutting sheds, where the slate they obtained would be processed into bricks, tiles and other building materials before being taken along a narrow-gauge railway to Ponyville to be shipped to all corners of Equestria by the big railways. But pulling long rakes of slate trucks can be horribly taxing even for the strongest of ponies, and Slate Shard constantly felt the strain wherever he went. There was never a time when he could leave work without feeling badly worn out by the end of the day, when he could go home and spend time with what little family he had left without exhausting himself even further. That was what made him all the more depressed, for while he sorely needed the money to keep them going, he felt as though all he was getting out of the job was frequent segregation from his own kin – segregation that he never wanted in the first place. All he wanted right now, just like any other day, was some time to bond with the one daughter he had been left with after the loss of his better half. If only he could quit his job and take up an easier, better paid and less stressful one, it would be so much easier on himself and his daughter; but his poor background meant that he didn't have the right qualifications. As he unhitched himself from the trucks and sat down to take a rest, one of the other quarry-ponies came up next to him with a huge off-cut of slate in tow. “Trucks gettin' a bit much for ya, Shard?” “No kidding, Ignatius,” replied Slate Shard unhappily. “I wouldn't wish this kinda burden on nopony.” “I know what ya mean,” drawled Ignatius. “It's bad enough that we 'ave to drag that slate over to them trucks, but draggin' several chunks of slate in one go...ya might as well 'ave been asked to pull the whole mountain from 'ere to Ponyville.” Slate Shard heaved a deep sigh. “It sure feels like I am.” “You'd 'ave thought they'd at least get another pony to help ya, maybe even bring up an engine to do the shuntin' instead.” “Tell that to the foreman!” grumbled Slate Shard. “He never seems to give a darn for anypony or anything other than cutting costs – we're nothing but cheap labour to him. If it had been any different, I'd have been given a pay-rise by now.” Ignatius frowned as he set about loading the slate onto the truck. “You an' me both,” he griped bitterly. “Them quarry owners are all the same – all greed an' no care. It's a wonder they even bother payin' us in the first place!” “And all for nothing but blood, sweat and tears – especially in my case,” lamented Slate Shard, staring into space once again. A few small tears formed in the corner of his eyes as he watched the clouds drift aimlessly through the sky, his mind beginning to drift with them in his sorrow. “If only it could be all sunshine and rainbows and father-daughter time, at least for one day.” “You'll get your chance one day,” Ignatius reassured him. “Besides, I'm sure that little filly of yours is managing okay.” Slate Shard stared at his hooves. “I blooming well hope so.” Back in Ponyville, in a small house near the edge of the town, a certain orange Pegasus filly was slowly, groggily rising from her slumber. Having let her eyes adjust to the morning sunlight, she turned to look at the clock on her bedside table, but sighed heavily in disappointment when she saw that it was almost midday. “Oh, great – I've slept in again, haven't I?” Perhaps it was lucky for Scootaloo that she didn't have school that day, but that did very little to reassure her as she dragged her weary bones out of bed and made her way into the kitchen, hoping that breakfast had already been prepared. It came as an even bigger disappointment, but by no means a surprise, when she found that there wasn't so much as one little crumb left out for her. She couldn't even see a note telling her where to find any food. “Trust that idiot who calls himself my dad to let me starve!” she muttered crossly. “Guess it's gonna have to be the usual for me in that case,” and she made her way out into the backyard, griping under her breath. The backyard used to be a well-kept garden, but in more recent times it had become terribly unkempt and overgrown, a far cry indeed from the small, tidy patches of tulips, roses and other flowers that used to adorn the place. Weeds and grass had long since eliminated these patches, making it look almost as wild as the Everfree Forest; nevertheless, there was more than enough grass to feed an army, which was just as well, Scootaloo considered, as it usually turned out to be the only breakfast food she could find. Her only complaint was that fresh grass usually tasted rather bland, and she often wished she could find a few flowers to go with it. As the disheartened filly sat and grazed over in the far corner of the backyard, she happened to catch a glance of Derpy Doo spending some quality time with her daughter Dinky. They certainly seemed to be enjoying each other's company, she thought, but then that was hardly surprising; behind that characteristic wall-eyed expression, Derpy was a bright mare and a competent mother, and she and Dinky cared for each other a great deal. Scootaloo watched them frolicking in the streets with a soft smile, a few small tears welling up in her eyes as she remembered the good times she had shared with her own mother before that tragic accident parted them forever. Her death had been such a crushing blow to the orange filly that she had been inconsolable for many months afterwards; her mother had loved her very much, and Scootaloo sorely missed being in her warm, comforting embrace, particularly whenever she had been hurt, bullied or plagued by nightmares. Her father, meanwhile, seemed to have changed for the worse after her mother's death. He had been fairly genial by nature, and despite having worked himself rather hard at the quarry most days, he would at least try to spend time with his family – but after her mother had gone, he became rather distant and distracted, and he no longer seemed to have the strength to do anything by the time he returned home, let alone spend any time with his daughter. Indeed there were times when Scootaloo wondered whether he actually realised he even had one; he had never set any time aside to lend a sympathetic ear or a word of advice, and she constantly found herself having to suffer in silence. It was only after meeting Sweetie-Belle one Winter Wrap-Up, and subsequently Apple Bloom at Diamond Tiara's cute-ceañera, that she had begun to feel like anypony else actually cared for her, but even then she still found the subject of her mother far too emotional to talk about it with anypony, even Rumble and Rainbow Dash. After another few minutes of watching Dinky and Derpy playing, Scootaloo decided to head over to Rumble's house and see what he was doing that day – hopefully a bit of time with her coltfriend would cheer her up. With that in mind, she trotted over to her scooter, donned her helmet and cruised out into the street. “...and that's pretty much all I know off-hoof,” finished Soarin gravely. “Ever since her sister's death, Spitfire just lost contact with her niece altogether, so it's anypony's guess what's going on with Scootaloo and Slate Shard.” Rainbow Dash paused, mulling over what she and Soarin had been discussing. Now that she knew a little more about Scootaloo's family, she understood why her number-one fan always seemed to avoid said topic, and she felt deeply sorry for Spitfire too; but what she still couldn't fathom was why the orange Pegasus filly had never even mentioned her father. “Sure sounds like this Slate Shard guy's had it pretty rough after Typhoon's death,” she mused, “but that doesn't excuse the way he seems to be treating his daughter. Scootaloo's already lost one parent – the last thing she needs is the feeling that her father's abandoned her too.” She paused again. “You don't suppose he intended to neglect her the way he has?” “I don't know what to think, Dashie,” admitted Soarin. “Granted, I did get the chance to meet him a few times – and believe me, he sure seemed a nice guy at the time – but that was way before Typhoon died.” Rainbow Dash furrowed her brow, deep in thought. “Then I reckon I need to have a little talk with him,” she decided at last, getting up from her seat. “Whether or not he wants to accept it, no filly or colt should be living as hard a life as Scootaloo seems to be living right now.” Soarin nodded gravely as he too stood up from behind his desk. “In that case, I'm coming with you; that way, Slate Shard will know you're connected to the Wonderbolts and will be more willing to listen,” he said. “But we'd better talk it out with Spitfire first.” “I'll say we should,” agreed Rainbow Dash. “I wouldn't want my soon-to-be hubby getting kicked out just for worrying about my number-one fan,” and she followed Soarin out of his office towards the other side of the building. Spitfire had been busy with paperwork all morning, and was now taking a coffee break before heading out on a tour of inspection. Just as she was taking her first sip, she heard a knock at her office door. “Who is it?” she asked, setting her mug down on the desk. “Commander Soarin Starr and Cadet Rainbow Dash,” came the reply. “There's something we want to discuss with you, Captain.” “Can it wait a while, Soarin? I'm on a pretty tight schedule today.” “Afraid not, Spitty; it's really important.” The amber Pegasus mare sighed and shook her head. As if she didn't have enough to worry about that day! “Alright, Soarin, but make it brief; I can only spare five minutes.” The door slowly swung open, allowing Soarin and Rainbow Dash into the office. Both Pegasi took a seat in front of Spitfire's desk and immediately began to explain; “Well, Spitty, it's like this; Dashie and I are worried that a certain fan filly of hers by the name of Scootaloo may be having trouble with her family.” Spitfire gave Soarin a perplexed and slightly annoyed look. “You came in here just to talk about a few problems with one of Rainbow Dash's fans?!” “Not just any fan,” pointed out Soarin. “Don't you remember who Scootaloo is?” That hit the nail on the head. The annoyance and confusion on Spitfire's face suddenly gave way to a look of utter disbelief. “How did Rainbow Dash find out about my niece?” she exclaimed. “I don't remember saying anything to her about...” “Actually, Spitfire,” volunteered Rainbow Dash, “I'd known that filly since before I enrolled in the Academy; she had always looked up to me like I was her big sister, and I'd been helping her learn how to fly, but she never told me about her family, so I didn't know you two were related until Soarin told me. I'm awful sorry about what happened to your sister, by the way,” she added softly. “You...you didn't...” Spitfire gazed in shock and dismay at Soarin, too distraught to finish the sentence. A few small tears formed in her eyes as the memories of her deceased sister flooded into her mind like water from behind a broken dam. Rainbow Dash found it difficult to keep herself from shedding a tear of her own; she held a great respect for her captain, and to see her so disheartened all of a sudden made her heart bleed. “Spitty, I know this is a sensitive topic for you, and I can understand you may be mad at me, but this is one of your kin we're talking about,” said Soarin gently. “For all we know, Scootaloo's father could have been...” “Soarin, you don't need to blueprint it for me,” interrupted Spitfire, quickly pulling herself together. “Yes, Typhoon's death may have been pretty rough on me, but your concerns about her daughter hardly constitute gross insubordination. You were quite right to worry about Scootaloo and her father, and I'm really grateful for it.” Soarin gave his superior a soft, reassuring smile in reply. “You're welcome, Spitty. Anyway, with your permission, Dashie and I wish to go down to Ponyville and have a word with Slate Shard – see what's really going on with him and Scootaloo.” Spitfire pondered for a few seconds before heaving a deep sigh. “Permission granted, Soarin; but don't be too long down there if you can help it,” she advised. “I can't afford to postpone the air display because our cadets haven't completed their training.” “Understood, Captain,” conceded Soarin, and saluted smartly before turning to head off to Ponyville. But as he and Rainbow Dash left the office, Spitfire quietly turned to face her office window, her head hanging with shame and sorrow as she thought of her ill-fated sister. Typhoon had meant a great deal to the fiery amber mare since foalhood, so naturally she had never truly recovered from said pony's death all those years ago. Worst of all, now that Rainbow Dash and Soarin had voiced their concerns for what Scootaloo seemed to be going through, it seemed to her as though the lives of the family Typhoon had left behind – and indeed the family itself – were falling apart too, like dilapidated old drystone bridges whose keystones had long since been dislodged. Unless Soarin and Rainbow Dash could replace those keystones somehow, she would never be able to forgive herself......