//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: Clover's Good Fortune // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// From the journal of Clover the Clever. The testing goes splendidly. The diseased plants show much improvement after Clayberry’s contact. The other plants remain in the apothecary tower, away from earth ponies. They remain diseased and rotten, and some of them have died. My herb garden blooms, and my fruits and vegetables that I grow are the envy of my unicorn neighbors who can’t seem to be able to grow anything. Clayberry continues to astound me on a daily basis. Her mind, her words, her curiousity, her desire to learn, her ability to spread dirt everywhere she goes. I suppose it cannot be helped. I am getting old. I might not look like it, but I can feel it. My joints are not well anymore, hot, achy, full of fever. I have my affairs in order. Clayberry will have a good life. I think I will be around for a few years more. I would like to see Clayberry married and happy. But I do not think that Starswirl will. He rarely leaves his tower anymore. I miss my friend already. Celestia spends every available hour that she has at his side. Clayberry sat, watching ants do their business. Ants were fascinating. She sat and watched, carefully and quietly, occasionally taking notes in a rough and battered looking notebook with a wooden handled quill suitable for biting down upon, not like the feather quills favoured by unicorns. Clover sat nearby, doing much the same, watching birds. She too, made notes and diagrams of her observations. And she watched Clayberry, on occasion, a smile upon her face. The earth pony filly was a budding naturalist, a gifted artist, and had a keen eye for detail and observation. She could make better sketches with her mouth than many unicorns could make with magic. Clayberry had earned a few coins making illustrations of flowers, plants, and insects. Clover was exceedingly proud of her filly. Clayberry stopped suddenly, dropping her quill, and pushed her notebook aside. She got up, looking around, and then trotted off into the underbrush at the edge of the meadow, off into the woods. “Wait Clayberry!” Clover shouted, hurrying after. “The woods might not be safe!” Clover’s joints popped and crackled as she trotted after Clayberry. Clayberry plunged through the forest, tearing through shrubs and thickets, pushing forward through the thick forest growth. She moved with grace and sure-hoofedness, and Clover wondered at times if it was an earth pony trait or just Clayberry. “Clayberry, what has possessed you to take off like this?” Clover asked, her brow furrowed slightly, struggling to keep up. Her joints ached. Damp weather was coming, and she could feel it. “Funny feeling.” Clayberry said. “Funny feeling?” Clover asked, nearly tripping on some brambles. “Well, keep following it. Maybe something interesting will happen!” Clover never failed to encourage Clayberry and her urges. Clayberry nodded, slowing down for Clover. The two of them pushed ahead, the sun barely touching their shoulders, making their way through the thick undergrowth, through piles of pine needles, pine cones, and the assorted debris of the forest floor. Clayberry tore away a particularly bad patch of brambles with her teeth, scratching and bloodying her lip, so that Clover would have easier passage. Clover planted a gentle kiss on the filly’s head as she passed through the scrub. Birds flew from thickets as they tore through the underbrush. “Getting stronger!” Clayberry said. “I tingle all over. I feel warm and kind of happy.” Clover struggled to write notes down in her notebook as she followed the hurried filly. “Warm and happy.” Clover muttered as her quill scratched away, her notebook held in a faint green glow of magic. Clayberry stopped, her ears drooping for a moment, then perking up, pointing forward. She sniffed, stuck her tongue out, sniffed again, and then took off with a leap, entering a small clearing after pushing through some bushes. She began to circle, kicking the dirt, her tail flicking, her nostrils flaring. “I itch all over!” Clayberry announced. “Like I am covered in ants. Again.” “Follow your instincts, whatever they are!” Clover shouted, her joints creaking as she struggled forward. Clayberry began to dig, scratching through the dirt, tearing up the forest floor with her hooves. She didn’t dig long before she stopped, grabbed a twig in her teeth, and carefully began to remove the soil. She spat out the twig. “I’ve found something.” She said, pointing with her hoof. Clover looked down, into the hole, and saw something brown and black, still mostly buried in the dirt. She carefully lifted it out with her magic, holding it high.”Why, it is a truffle. A big one. A fortune just lying in the dirt.” Clayberry beamed. “What’s a truffle?” Clayberry asked. “Your mark.” Clover said, pointing, noticing something was very different. Clayberry whirled around, trying to see her own backside. Sure enough, there was a brownish black lump that looked an awful lot like the thing that Clover held in her magic. “I have my mark!” Clayberry shouted ecstatically. Clover’s muzzle wrinkled, her face scrunching, her eyes narrowing. She looked thoughtful while the filly continued to chase her tail. She began to scratch something out in her notebook while chewing on her lip slightly. “Wait.” Clayberry said, taking notice. “Whatever I have found isn’t as important as whatever it is that you are thinking.” Clayberry said thoughtfully. “Clever filly.” Clover said. “Do you know what you’ve done?” “No.” Clayberry said, suddenly very serious. “You’ve just used passive magic to find a truffle.” Clover said. “Magic, Clayberry.” Clayberry’s haunches collapsed and she sat down with a plop. “We need to test this before we tell anypony.” Clover said, a faint smile on her lips. “So I need to find more truffles.” Clayberry said, concentrating. “I can do that. If the urge hits me, I will be prepared.” Clover nodded. “Ponies might think your sense of smell is leading you on. We need to prove somehow that this is magic.” “We could plug my nose with something.” Clayberry offered. “That’s a fine idea.” Clover replied. “Truffles are very rare and valuable to the right ponies. You have a fine talent.” Clayberry beamed, basking in her instructor’s praise.