//------------------------------//
// Guess Who's Coming to Fodder 
// Story: The Sour Grapes Chronicles 
// by The Incredible Werekitty 
//------------------------------//

	Grapes mumbled something, absently kicking off the comforter, and turned back over to sleep some more. Then this nagging little thought started to trickle into her brain. Why was it so… warm? She sat up, bleary-eyed, noticing that she was somewhat sweaty. A quick check of her temperature let her know she didn’t have a fever, so she got up, put on her glasses, and looked out her bedroom window. Much to Grapes’ surprise there was a lot of brown, and green, a field of freshly-planted grapevines stood in the sunniest part of the vineyard. Grapes went downstairs to see what the hay was going on. Spring usually wasn’t… well… on TIME! 

Grapes trotted around her yard, noticing that her plan for the Wrap-Up had been followed almost to the letter. The occasional improvements, probably implemented by Queenie, on the original plan were easily spotted. She just wasn’t expecting for winter to have been wrapped up so quickly. Usually the Ponyville crew was, at least, a day late. It was hard to admit it but she was strangely… disappointed. Now she had very little to complain about the organization and timeliness of Winter Wrap-up. 

“Great. There goes my usual spring-time gripe. What am I supposed to complain about, now?” Grapes grouched.

“Welp. Y’all could just keep on pointin’ out ponies’ flaws in general,” came a familiar drawl from behind her. Turning about she saw Applejack standing next to one of the sheds with smirk. “Ah remember hearing the other night from you that one of yer farmhooves was feelin’ awfully sick so I figured Ah should check up on ya. How y’all doin’, cuz?”

“Earshot caught Cloppox, and it turned out bad, because he hadn’t had his shots,” Grapes said. “But he’s much better now. I’ve caught up on my sleep and Spring’s on time for the first time in years.”

“Yeah. Funny thing there. We had a whole heap of trouble this year ‘cause Twilight was fittin’ in like a square peg in a round hole. Nothin’ seemed to be doin’ her any good, and she weren’t doin’ any good in anything in turn. Next thing we know she takes the reins and gets this whole herd of cats goin’ in the same direction. Guess she picked SOMETHIN’ up from the Princess,” Applejack explained with a shrug.

“So… Twilight’s obsession with organization got Spring sprung on time?” Grapes asked. “How ‘bout that? Good thing I put in my custom weather order, when I decided to actually grow Sun’s Spring Glory grapes this year.”

“Ain’t those the ones that make you cuss like a one-eyed carpenter? Thought you said it’d take the devil himself to make you grow them again.”

“I know, I know, but I’m down to my last couple of barrels, and I do, actually, have ponies who… well… pony up the bits for that stuff. Also, it helped out Seedy Soil, because he got them in by mistake,” Grapes explained. “How anypony could confuse Morning Glories with Sun’s Spring Glory is beyond me.”

“Well don’t be too confused about it, Sugarcube. Ah know the feelin’ when Ah went to buy broccoli seeds from Seedy he said they were out and the price of the next batch would go up because of scarcity… Scarcity… sounds like a relative of Rarity, don’t it?” 

“Snips and Snails decided to corner the market on broccoli. Now if only they’d do the same for alfalfa… And yeah, kind of, but don’t let her hear you say so,” Grapes quipped. “So… why are you thinking about Rarity, all of the sudden? Talking about the broccoli shortage, and your mind wanders to a certain marshmallow white unicorn when you mention a word that means something similar to her name...” 

“Oh, now don’t you start none of that, missy,” AJ began, in a warning tone. “Not when ah came bearin’ gifts for yer sick foal.”

Grapes held up her hooves in a mollifying gesture. “Okay okay. I’m sure Earshot will appreciate them. Need any help getting them inside?”

“Naw. It ain’t that big,” she said giving Grapes a small narrow sealed jar. “Ah remember the little guy talkin’ about how his folks always liked chewing on things, so ah figured Winona could share some of her rawhide chewies and biscuits. Heck, if’n he likes them we might wind up with somethin’ we could trade with his folks for when they get out of… well, their caves.”

“Hm. I think he’ll enjoy having something to gnaw on,” Grapes observed looking at the chewies. “Thanks, Applejack.”

“Hope the li’l fellar’s feeling better. Ah cain’t help but noticed that Crabby and Zecora left earlier. Must’ve been serious to have both of them there at once.”

“He’s feeling much better, thanks. And yeah, it was pretty serious. Pre-immunization cloppox is no joke,” Grapes observed. “Anyway, looking forward to the Gala? That’s soon, now that the season’s turned.”

“Sure as sugar. Granted Ah ain’t much for all the sissified, frou-frou, waltzin’ to long-maned music that Rarity likes but Ah figure that’ll make what Ah bring stand out with it’s simple down-home charm. But enough about that,” Applejack said dismissively. “Ah wanted to apologise for Applebloom and her friends botherin’ you the way they did the other day. Rarity is fit to be tied for their uniforms.”

“They had good intentions,” Grapes said with a nod. “And Earshot’s enjoying the record they brought over. So that’s a good thing. I know the road to Tartarus is paved with good intentions, but they genuinely meant well, so I can’t hold it against them, really.”

“And let’s not forget that at least THIS time, their efforts didn’t exactly end in disaster. Well, not disastrous as most of their other tries. Like their infamous Cutiemark Crusader Hooficure Experts event? Ah hear they still haven’t gotten the glitter off of the mayor’s office ceiling.”

“... Oh good heavens…” Grapes uttered, rubbing her forehead. “I’m glad I headed that off before they actually attempted any patient care.”

“Ah’m jest glad you won’t be seein’ them showin up on yer doorstep claimin’ to be Cutiemark Crusader Morticians. That’d be the last thing you’d need.” 

“No kidding,” Grapes sighed. “Anyway, thanks for stopping by, AJ… Er… You remember Dusty?”

“Dusty? Oh yeah. The fellar from Canterlot who likes hittin’ the slopes. Right? You mentioned him gettin’ into an accident at that big wintertime shindig. What about him?”

“He’s coming here to recuperate. Not sure if Earshot will be able to hear him, but keep an eye out for him, would you? If you notice him before we do, give him a lift to the vineyard. It wouldn’t be good for him to be walking on a broken leg,” Grapes said with a sigh.

“Right. Don’t you worry none. I’ll spread the word to keep an eye out. We ain’t about to let yer kin go galloping over hill and dale on a broken leg. That wouldn’t be neighborly.”

“Just don’t tell Queenie… She’s… less than friendly to Dusty, right now, okay?” Grapes said. “We’re going to try and keep their interaction as minimal as possible.”

“As long as she don’t ask Ah won’t tell. You know how avoidin’ truth makes mah skin itch.” 

“Same here. Just… Trying to prevent friction, before she’s calmed down a bit,” Grapes said with a sigh. “She knows I’ve got a cousin coming to recuperate. She just doesn’t know he also happens to be a certain unicorn who’s famous for being able to quote fly unquote that she encountered at a certain ill-fated winter sports competition. And what’s worse… Poor Dusty’s utterly smitten with her.”

Applejack let out a low whistle followed by a good-natured chuckle. 

“Boy sets his sights high, don’t he? Gal has a lot to offer. Land, good looks, good manners… even when she’s had a snootfull. Did she tell ya that Mac carted her here from the station? Said she was the most ‘pleasant’ drunk he ever had to do that with.”

“She was funny, when she got to the Bunkhouse, too. One of the first things she did was make sure Earshot knew that her behavior wasn’t appropriate,” Grapes said, chuckling. “Anyway, with Earshot kind of down for now, we haven’t got a way to hear him when he gets here. So I appreciate your keeping an eye out.”

“Welp.. Ah’ve been scoutin’ out a new location for the apple stand for spring. Maybe ah should set up around the train station. You know.. to catch the new arrivals as they come lookin’ fer work.”

“Why would you want to move?” Grapes asked, looking innocent.

“Oh, now don’t you start that, y’hear? It’s jest if you don’t try a few new things now and again you’ll never know if’n there’s somethin’ a little better. Also Rarity has asked me to move for a while… Filly says mah treats are too temptin’ and she’s gained a few pounds. Ah don’t see the fuss, really,” Applejack replied. Grapes just grinned.

“Too tempting, hm? Interesting,” she observed, grin still in place. “I do wonder what she’s being tempted by… I do admit your fritters are fantastic. And your pies, and apple jam… And the apple brown betty… Uh. Yeah. I can understand why she’d want you to move. Also… If she has to walk farther for the treat, it’ll get worked off.”

“Ah’ll admit havin’ Rare as a constant customer is nice but she DID ask nicely, and it ain’t a BAD request neither. So Ah figure, why not?”

“Okay. Just hope you get some good hooves out of it. Unfortunately there don’t seem to be other rogue storm teams you could enlist,” Grapes said teasingly.

“That’s a pity. If Ah had a barnfull of ponies like the ones you got Ah’d be livin’ like a queen,” she paused a moment then laughed. “And be bored as a two-bah-four.”

“Well thanks for stopping by, AJ. I’m sure you’ve got your scouting to do. I’m going to give these to Earshot, and see what all everypony’s done, so far,” Grapes said, looking back over the vineyard. “I’m still in awe at how one unicorn’s obsession with organization could get something done that… is practically traditionally late. I mean the lateness is practically a tradition.”

“Well, Ah get a feelin’ that Twilight is one of them obsessive-compulsive types… take that from an expert on the thing. Still, she kicked up a whole mess of trouble tryin’ to find a place to fit in. Durn fool used magic with her plow.. on MAH farm! You know how serious Ah am about doin’ it all proper. Ah mean, usin’ Unicorn Magic on mah farm durin’ Winter Wrap-up! Can you imagine what the all the other ponies would say?”

“Well I’m pretty sure Twilight didn’t mean to put you in a spot like that.” Grapes observed. “She doesn’t have the same strength as an Earth Pony or even the experience in knowing how best to throw her own weight around, like yours truly.”

“It’s a good thing Big Macintosh didn’t see her. It was HIS plow she was using… oh! No wonder she had to use magic to move it! It was adjusted for HIM, not a little unicorn mare! Anyway, Ah’m glad he didn’t see the ruckus she caused, otherwise he might have given her an even BIGGER earful than Ah did, Celestia’s student or not. He was kinda fumin’ when he came back, Ah wonder if someone managed to tell him after all. Good thing she ran off when she did…”

“Heh. It takes a lot to get Mac to say more than two words,” Grapes observed, with a grin. “I’ll see you later, Cuz. I’ve got to check on everything. It looks like they followed my plan, but I’d better check.”

“Catch y’all later. and don’t you fret. Ah’ll keep an eye open fer your other cousin.”

“Thanks, AJ,” Grapes said, waving, then she went and checked over the fields, making sure everything was as she would set it up herself. She had planned everything out, carefully, to maximise efficiency, and make sure that everything drained well, and did not cause problems with the ground water. And it looked like some improvements had been made there as well. She wasn’t about to complain, though.

She did note somepony else was as restless as her. More than once she saw a pair of ears poking above the windowsill in Earshot’s room. As exhausting as his ordeal had been like any foal his age he probably wanted to be outside playing, or maybe working… she got the feeling that for him they were pretty much interchangeable. A lot of things she took for granted was pretty new to him. 

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A couple of days later, a great gleaming cherry-red carriage pulled by a gray and black Unicorn stallion and a gray and black Earth Pony mare, came down the front driveway, its gold filigree gleaming in the noonday sun. Sour Grapes was uncertain who this could be, not many ponies she knew could afford a ride like that. It certainly wasn’t her grandmother’s style to “slum” in a place like Ponyville, and her uncle Cabochon was more of the “less is more” camp for carriages. The carriage pulled up in front of her home and it took her a moment to recognise the coat-of-arms on the side. In fact, she had seen it on the scarves that the Storm Riders wore. Upon a gold shield was a dark brown pegasus riding a storm cloud that was shooting lightning. Apparently an official, a high-ranking official, had come to check on the Storm Riders. Grapes sighed, and prepared herself for the animosity that’s normal for Canterlot Nobility.

Moments after it came to a stop,the unicorn in the front unhitched himself and quickly moved to the side door where he flipped down a short set of stairs before opening the door. The smoked-glass windows had prevented Grapes from seeing inside before but she was impressed by the plush green velvet seats within, then a long leg appeared from the shadows, then another. She emerged as if rising up from a dark pool, a lean mare of an indeterminate but still well-preserved age, with a smalt-coloured body and a gorgeous mane of cattleya-coloured hair that somehow seemed to suit her. She wore a stylish white traveling cloak and bonnet which seemed to almost burn in the sunlight as she descended the short flight of stairs to the gravel road. Her dark eyes calmly surveyed the landscape before she turned to Grapes where she gave a shallow bow.

“Good afternoon. May I make the leap of logic here and come to the conclusion I am addressing Miss Sour Grapes of the Grapevine Hills Vineyard and Winery?” Her bonnet flickered with a light gray shimmer, rising from her head and moving over to the pony next to her who immediately put it into an appropriate hat box, and revealing the elegant upcurved horn upon her brow. 

This caused Grapes to raise an eyebrow. Honestly, she had been expecting a pegasus, and the last thing she expected was that “bow of equals”.

“That is a most excellent, logical, and correct deduction on your part, ma’am,” Grapes observed, with a small bow of her own. “And I presume that you would be Lady Weathervaine?”

“Ah, just as quick as my Storm-Riders said. Yes. Yes I am Lady Weathervain. I cannot begin to say how wonderful it is to finally meet the pony who has kept my Storm-Riders out of trouble for an entire year,” the older mare said with a pleasant smile before she brought up one hoof to gently but firmly turn Sour Grapes’ head from side to side. “Here, let’s have a look at you then.”

“Oh… kay…” Grapes said, obviously taken aback. This was not what she was expecting at all, to be honest. She seemed quite friendly, even… well… grandmotherly in a fashion she’d never received from Pave Diamond. Unfortunately she never met her Grandmother Grapes, she having gone on to the Great Green Fields, leaving the ornery Grandpa Grapes behind.

Eyes as dark as obsidian scrutinised her, as if she were a piece of fine art. Then Lady Weathervain smiled in a curiously “amused” manner.

“Ah there it is. Definitely of the Diamond family heritage. It’s all in the eyes-to-nose region. Sturdy features one could put in a portrait, not to mention I see IN those eyes that diamond-hard will that borders on stubbornness that comes with the bloodline. Just like the stubbornness Pave Diamond has… how is old Diamond-face doing these days? I haven’t had the time to attend the same balls as her.. or rather I should say I can hardly be BOTHERED to attend any of the balls she attends. As far as I’m concerned she has no balls worth speaking of.” 

“I wouldn’t know, ma’am, I haven’t seen her since I was sixteen, and stomping out of the Grand Galloping Gala, after being insulted the whole night… And… I could make a very inappropriate joke, here, but I’m sure Earshot is listening, and he’s way too young to hear such, just yet,” Grapes quipped.

For a moment, Grapes was uncertain what manner of reaction she may get from this woman, who was no doubt well-connected and accustomed to finer things. In fact for a heartbeat because of the way Weathervain was looking at her, she worried her comment might have gone a step too far… then the mare threw her head back and laughed, long, loud and with total abandon. 

“OH! Oh Well done, Grapes. Well done, you picked up my straight line right away and used it while showing restraint for the sake of young Earshot. You are turning out to be everything I have been told.”

“He can hear stars, ma’am, and has probably heard worse in Ponyville, since he can hear Pinkie Pie telling a joke at Sugarcube Corner, but the less I have to use ‘standard answer number one’ the less I have to explain when he comes of age,” Grapes replied with a slight smirk. “I’m sure he’s been keeping a record of everything that has to be explained when he’s older… So yeah… ‘The Talk’ may end up being dry and scholarly, especially if I’m the one doing it, but he’ll get the facts straight, and won’t have to take a cold shower, after.”

“Scholarly may be the best way to go for the initial talk. When I married my dear husband Freight Broker, may he rest in peace, I was quite the trophy wife. The ‘right’ finishing schools, the ‘right’ charm classes and the ‘right’… Answer Number One Classes.“

Grapes raised an eyebrow at that particular bit of information. Of course Weathervain saw her eyebrow and matched it with one of her own.

“I come from a long line of ponies who specialise in marrying into the ‘right’ families. It sounds archaic to some but ‘breeder’ ponies were and still sometimes are quite the norm in my line.” 

“So… they had to be familiar with… Uh… Jiggery Pokery, so to speak?” Grapes asked, then paused, and said to the air. “Yes, this is Standard Answer Number One. But for future reference it is part of a set of linguistic acrobatics that confuses Sirocco called ‘euphemisms’. Saying something innocuous to mean something less than innocuous especially around younger ponies who shouldn’t be listening in to private conversations… Earshot. I know you’re bored, but you’re still on bedrest until Crabby says different… Note to self: Check out the Daring Do novels...”

“Oh yes. I highly recommend those. Daring is a very stimulating writer and SUCH a charming young filly when she puts her mind to it.”

You could almost hear Grapes’ mental record scratch.

“She actually exists?! Wait. No. Why wouldn’t she exist? I live in a town where six ponies ended up saving the world from eternal night, and they even save the town itself from time to time, and nopony really knows who they are, so it shouldn’t be too big of a stretch for the leading character of a popular young ponies’ novel series to actually exist…”

“Good girl. Yes she is real, yes those books are based off of her real adventures but some of the names have been changed for the sake of the privacy of some ponies.”

“Oh good gravy, I always knew Squall seemed familiar…” Grapes muttered. “Summer Squall is Captain Hammock! Great flaming fewmits… Daring Do and the Secret of Scarlet Island was one of my favorites.”

“OH! I’m surprised you caught that so quickly once you had the right key. Yes my dear, Summer Squall is indeed the hot-blooded sailor that appears irregularly in the series,” Weathervain said rather soberly. “She did me a favour when she dragged him into that adventure. No doubt in the book you read about him hitting a low point in his life when they met. When she asked me if I knew any seagoing ponies capable of piloting a small ship I had already been scouting Squall for some time and I sincerely hoped that if there was any life left in that poor rum-soaked wreck, an adventure would bring it out. Fortunately it worked and here we are.”

“I’m sure he’ll tell me about it, eventually, when he feels like it. I seem to be something of a counselor-slash-den mother for this crazy crew. Oh, and my cousin, the doctor, is planning on visiting Earshot’s clan, sometime,” Grapes added casually. “Though I’m pretty sure Earshot’s recent illness is the reason why you’ve graced my humble vineyard with your presence. Unless you’re here for the wine sampler.”

“Wine would be graciously accepted, if you’re offering,” she said with a wink. “Just don’t be surprised if I start dancing on tables. But yes, I came to check upon one of my best possible investments. To hear we nearly lost him to such a casual and easily avoidable illness… one that I should have foreseen or at least dealt with myself. I’ve always left their medical care to them, giving them a medical stipend to see to their own health matters and in the past it has always worked… I neglected to realise that Earshot’s clan are somewhat behind the times.” her eyes dropped as she whispered, “It should not have had to come to us nearly losing him.” 

“I keep bringing up the simple fact that vaccination has made Cloppox into the nuisance it is today. And that is a very, in the grand scale of things, recent innovation happening within the last century,” Grapes said with a sigh. “Also, despite Earshot acting rather mature, he’s still a young colt. And what young colt enjoys the thought of getting shots? Also… There’s that village that’s near his home. I’m sure that the initial impression that they have left upon him did not help him be trusting toward anypony in a position of authority, especially a doctor.”

“That’s a possibility. The world has not always been good to him, a mix of both fortune and folly. Who knows what that ghastly town has given him in the way of pre-conceived notions.”

“That well-made ordinary goods are prohibitively expensive, for one, but I showed him that the selfish ponies were short-changing his kin. I have a plan for how to get ponies wanting the Night Ponies to rejoin greater Pony Society. And it involves trade goods. Get ponies wanting the things Night Ponies make, and soon, you’ll get them wanting to meet the actual Night Ponies… Speaking of! There is a wine you should try. I made sure to save some. Just a little bit, before you go and visit our favorite little eavesdropper,” Grapes said going into the bunkhouse, and pulling out the jar of Luna’s Tears, and pouring Lady Weathervain a snort. “They make wine, too. But it’s different from how I do it.”

Lady Weathervain went through the usual rigamarole of wine-tasting. Checking color, odor and the like before sipping at it and letting it wash across her tongue for maximum effect. 

“Very nice. And you say they made this on their own?”

“Makes me think of ancient Roanan winemaking, actually, with its particular flavor, and texture,” Grapes observed. “Earshot said they’ve had to do a lot of stuff without the benefits that we ‘Daylighters’ have, and I’d say they’ve done quite well,” Grapes observed. “But can you imagine having this at your next soiree? The elite would be clamoring for it, because it’s new, and different, and nopony else has it. Kind of like a peculiar green vintage that’s sure to become something of a fad this coming season… I can neither confirm nor deny that Princess Celestia may have paid a nice sum for an interesting vintage of wine made from broccoli for her particularly odious nephew’s birthday this past year.”

“That was you? Oh dear. That has actually become quite trendy at his new cheese-tasting parties that are starting to become popular. I always suspected they’d pay well for bad taste.”

“And just my luck, a pair of enterprising foals have bought up the initial broccoli seed shipment. So any broccoli wine I make will be all the more expensive. It does taste much better, by the way, with a really good sharp Trottingham cheddar. Anything else doesn’t seem to work as well,” Grapes added with a chuckle.

“Well here’s to your new endeavour,” the noble said taking another sip of the dark wine. “This really is a lovely wine. It has a dark beauty about its flavor. It would be nice to see it on the open market. One cannot help but imagine vines with midnight-colored fruits growing in some deep dark cavern somewhere.”

“Make ponies want it, without the use of a certain notorious spell, and the rest will be history,” Grapes observed, putting up the jar. “Though, for some reason, I think you’d enjoy the watermelon wine, too… Anyway, before we do you a wine sampler, so you can add my wines to your cellars, let’s go and see mister antsy pants.”

“Ah yes. Let’s. Will there be stairs?”

“Do you need help ascending?” Grapes asked, politely. “Because, yes, yes there will be stairs. I can always give you a lift, as it were. I’ve got particularly strong levitation.”

“Well I only ask because my pole-dancing days have come and gone. And while hardly infirm I have to take them slowly these days,” the older mare said before giving Grapes a gentle nudge. “Although I wouldn’t say no to a body next to mine as I go up, just in case.”

“That can be taken so luridly. It really can,” Grapes deadpanned, with a smirk.

“I know. Always remember that a dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste,” she laughed as the two entered the bunkhouse. “It will be nice to see Earshot again; he is by far the youngest acquisition I have yet to recruit into my operation. He was… let me see… seven, when he first came to my attention.”

“Where did you find him?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If you can believe it, Canterlot,” she said matter-of-factly as they slowly began the climb up the stairs. 

“That’s… quite the long way from Germaney,” Grapes observed, thoughtfully.

“Oh yes. His accent was rather thick back then, a little Germane, some influence from the Clopathian region. I try not to pry, some of us have earned our little secrets.”

“Of course,” Grapes said with a smile. “Still, I’ve always been good at putting things together, and making rather stunning leaps of logic.”

“I remember it was mid-summer, a Tuesday, and I was out in the market square looking for good bargains--I may be well-off but spending money frivolously has never been my style--I was looking over some fresh pomegranates when I could not help but see the most curious little thing. A small gray colt was counting out his change at one of the fruit stands; normally that is not quite a strange thing in itself but he wore a large hat, had on a saddle-blanket despite it being warm day and wore large green-glass goggles. He got some odd looks, I can tell you, but the ponies all probably assumed he was yet another tourist. What’s the old expression? Country-comes-to-town.”

“Country bumpkin, I believe,” Grapes supplied.

“Most simply actively ignored him. After all he wasn’t harming anypony else, nor was he obnoxious enough to call undue attention to himself, even then he was so polite. I did find it odd that he spoke so CAREFULLY. As if opening his mouth too much would be considered rude. Although my talent is in seeing trends and patterns, I suspect I have a natural talent for finding… the unusual talents that could benefit my operation, and when I looked at this young colt I could almost feel it prodding me with the ‘look at this’ schtick. That’s when it happened.”

“Okay. I’ll bite. What happened?” Grapes asked.

“He stepped to the left, a heartbeat before part of a gargoyle on the old bank smashed to the cobblestones where he had been standing. Everypony was relieved that he hadn’t been hurt, and called him lucky. I, however, saw that the motion was deliberate. He somehow was AWARE of the falling masonry. So… I followed him.”

Grapes smiled. “He heard when the gargoyle broke free.”

“Oh yes. Bless those early-warning systems on his head, although sometimes he can be.. too distracted to be paying attention. When I found him at the back of that blind alley he was gorging himself on Star fruit. Probably was half-starved because of how costly things in Canterlot were, or maybe he just liked the exotic flavor of their gooey centre. He nearly leapt out of his skin when I approached. If his wings were not tucked away under that blanket he might have ‘flown the coop’, so to speak,” she chuckled before sighing deeply. “It took a lot of gentle coaxing and my whole basket of strawberries to get him to come out from behind those rubbish cans. It was there in that back alley amid the debris and shadows I got him to show me what allowed him to avoid an unpleasant fate. It was then and there that I realised I had been led to something truly unique under the sun. I gave him my business card and said if he needed a job I could make good use of those ears of his, and even be his sponsor in the ‘Daylight Lands’. Oh, I love how he says that. It makes everything we know feel so exotic.”

“I know. Thankfully, I gave him a job in Ponyville. This place can be very accepting,” Grapes observed with a smile. “And it helps that he’s a cute little colt. The Night Pony-slash-vampony stories both help and hinder his case. Our local animal expert totally fangirled over his being a Night Pony; she being rather fond of the literature. Conversely, the vampony literature and legends had our local school teacher somewhat afraid of him… Until she saw he was a cute little colt who was far more polite than most colts in her classes.”

“Ah yes. There is that. He’ll no doubt grow up into the sort of stallion who could break hearts if he were so inclined. I have never had reason to believe he actually would, there’s just so much ‘goodness’ in that one. It’s no wonder his kin sent him forth as a scout. Sometimes change is a sledgehammer blow.. but the most lasting change is like watching a river slowly carve and change the landscape over the course of years. Earshot already has one entire town that has a statue built to him… oh wait. Perhaps I shouldn't mention that.”

“A… town… Oh nevermind… That sounds like a very long story,” Grapes observed. “Let’s get you up to his room, and you can visit mister antsy pants. May distract him from being quite so… bored with bedrest.”

“I suspect that if he couldn’t ‘listen in’ on the region he might he far more bored. Still, I recommend some nice classical music and some Daring Do novels.”

“He’s been listening to an Opera remix album by DJ Pon3, that some friends of his sent over,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “He seems to be enjoying it, so far. But when I’ve got to snag somepony to keep an eye on him, while I’m in town grabbing the books.”

They reached the handing, then went into Earshot’s room to find the colt sitting up, and looking anxiously at their visitor.

The elderly mare lowered herself onto the edge of the bed and smiled at the colt.

“Hello Earshot. I hear you had a close call,” Lady Weathervain said with a warm smile.

“Yes Ma’am. But Mister Crabapple says I’ll make a full recovery,” Earshot replied.

“Doctor Crabapple,” Grapes corrected. “He’s Doctor Crabapple. He went to school, and everything.”

“Yes Miss Grapes. Doctor Crabapple was so nice, he’s not at all like Mister… Doctor Vivisection back home said Doctors out here would be like,” Earshot observed.

Grapes watched as Weathervain reached out to brush some of Earshot’s mane from his eyes and smiled gently. 

"Is Doctor Vivisection from Stygian Cove?" Grapes asked, lowering her eyebrows, with a thunderous frown. “Because I thought… Wait. He’s from that village, isn’t he? Earshot, honey, you know how that village thinks of your people. Do you, honestly, think they’d tell you the truth about how ponies would react to you?”

"Oh no. We don't have doctors in the cove. Only a few healers. Doctor Vivisection is from the village. He warned me about how 'learned ponies' out here like Doctors would want to lock me up and take me apart to see what made me the abom..." Earshot paused and then coughed gently, changing the word. "I mean made me the Night Pony I am. Since I came out here many of my… preconceptions have been challenged. Preconception! Miss Cheerilee taught me that word.”

“And it is a good word to know, little one,” Weathervain said with a laugh. “We all have them, and often it is good to challenge them, to see if they are true or not. Such as now. What do you think of ‘learned ponies’ now?”

“I think… there are good ones and bad ones? Just like everypony else,” Earshot observed.

“A wise conclusion, my little Earshot,” Lady Weathervain said warmly.

“Also, you learned that anypony who called you an ‘abomination’ is not to be trusted,” Grapes said sternly. “You are not, and you will never will be an abomination.”

He blinked at her, golden eyes glittering in the light from the window before smiling. 

“Thank you very much Miss Grapes. I will remember that.”

-------------------------------------------------------

A couple of days after Lady Weathervain’s visit, a lone limping figure slowly made his way off the afternoon train. He carefully made his way down the stairs, and out of the way of the other passengers, before sitting down, head hung low, breathing hard, the occasional hiss of pain escaping his muzzle.

“You look like you’ve traveled down some hard roads there, fellah,” Said a voice next to him. Looking up he saw an orange mare with freckles and a blond mane and hat smiling at him. The tan pony did a double-take at her, and her accent, and looked thoughtful. “Don’t suppose you started from a place called Avalanche Valley, did ya?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, a tired smile on his face. “I did. It wasn’t easy, but I made it. I don’t understand why we have stairs, though. Totally. Are we, like, masochistic, or something?”

“Somethin’ like that… ‘Course you COULD have used the ramp over yonder but guess you had other plans.”

“Isn’t that, for, like, luggage? I didn’t want to get in anypony’s why who was hauling a load of stuff, y’know?” the blond stallion replied with a shrug.

The mare smiled and gently tapped the brace on his leg. “Somethin’ tells me yer already haulin’ a load. OH! Musta let mah manners in mah cart. Name’s Applejack, Ah run Sweet Apple Acres which Ah think is jest across from where you wanna be.”

“Oh! Hey! Grapes talked about you. You’re the cousin from Uncle Champ’s side of the family. It’s awesome to finally meet you. I’m Dusty,” he said, offering a hoof to shake.

“Pleased ta meet you, Dusty!” she said, gripping his offered hoof and at first starting to pump it vigorously before realising the shaking was causing him some discomfort in his injured leg. “Oops. Sorry about that. Well it’s always good to meet family, no matter how distant. You came to help out Sour Grapes for her spring work at the vineyard, right?”

“Well… Doing what I can with this busted leg. I’m sure I can do some things… Not a lot, until I’m fully healed,” Dusty replied with a smile. “But I don’t want to be a total freeloader, though.”

“Oh heck, if you got any of the blood in Sour Grapes’ veins in yers then you ain’t gonna freeload her. Besides she ain’t got time for lazy ponies on her farm. Ah’ve seen her toss a right old big fellar over the fence for eatin’ more produce than he was pickin’.”

“Well I got the unicorn blood,” Dusty said, chuckling. “But yeah. I’ll help out when I can. I’ve got to earn some bits, since I gave all of mine to Avalanche Valley… So… How do I hitch a ride out there?”

“Oh you can jest hop up on the wagon and Ah’ll haul ya there,” she said with a laugh. “Hey Mac! Ah’m headdin’ back to the farm. Can you an’ Applebloom keep an eye on things here?”

“Eeyup,” a large red Stallion uttered loquaciously.

“Are you… like… saving up for a new wagon or somethin’?” Dusty asked, as he looked in askance at the little foal’s wagon that was by the stand.

“What? OH!” Applejack laughed and shook her head. “Oh that there’s mah little sister’s wagon. Good fer haulin’ small stuff an’ sturdy enough to hold the weight of two ponies but you’d look aweful silly sittin’ in it all that way, wouldn’t ya?”

“I… probably would,” Dusty said with a chuckle, as he carefully got into the larger wagon that Applejack indicated. “Thanks, by the way… It’d probably be painful, if I tried walking out there.”

“Ah bet you might get to the outskirts of town. You certainly had gumption enough to walk on that leg without the contraption in the newsreels. Not exactly OVERLY bright, mind you, but you had yer heart in the right spot,” Applejack said, hitching herself up.

“I know, I know,” Dusty said with a sigh. “But I couldn’t just… lay there, you know?”

“Ah know what you mean,” Applejack began to pull the cart down the street with a laugh. “A little while ago Ah nearly worked mahself into an early grave because Ah couldn’t stop mahself from jest… doin’ what had to be done. Got plumb carried away, bitin’ off more than Ah could chew.”

“Good to know you understand. Also… I… kind of felt responsible for the whole thing, so… I had to do something,” Dusty commented. “After all… I did set off the cannon…”

“Cain’t say Ah blame ya for wantin’ to settle up like that. Question is, when should a pony stop buckin’ themselves over a mistake?”

“That’s… a really good question, Applejack,” Dusty observed. “I… honestly don’t know.”

“Well nothin’ like farm work to help give you the time to think about stuff like that. Mah brother Macintosh may not seem the sharpest tool in the shed at first, but believe you-me, he thinks real deep. Probably why he don’t say much. Feels he don’t need to use a dictionary when one word is enough.”

“He knows how to make a point with one word, huh?” Dusty asked, with a smile. “That’s a skill more ponies need, honestly. Ugh…”

“Well it ain’t always so bad. Mah friends Rarity and Twilight can use ten-bit words without even thinkin’ about it. With Rarity it makes her sound all proper and fancy while Twilight… well Twilight is jest plain smart so maybe she deserves the right to use them words.”

“Kind of like Sour Grapes? She’s very smart,” Dusty said, thoughtfully. “But I think Grapes is more of a historian. She knows stuff about old cultures, and how things came to be, and that sort of thing. But then Aunt Cham was big on history… Real history, where Grandma was all over revisionist history, ‘cause she’s a total tribalist.”

“Oh. One of THEM. Yeah folks who want to stand on the backs of others tend to wanna rewrite history so they come out on top. No matter how hard we try to get past those old feelin’s somepony pops up tryin’ to tell is it’s how the world is.” Applejack was silent a moment before dredging up an old bit of doggerel from the corner of her head. “Ah remember it now... ‘The rich pony in his castle, The poor pony at his gate, They were made high and lowly, An’ ordered their estate.’ Boy them old lessons stick with ya, don’t they?” 

“Yeah. They do,” Dusty said quietly, then looked at the road. “The classics are the best, after all.”

“Well at least yer gonna be in good company durin’ yer stay. Sour’s got herself a whole heap of workers this season. To give you an idea how good they are, they stayed on her property from LAST season. Right friendly bunch, if’n you’re willin’ to leave some ideas ‘at the gate’.”

“Cool. I like bucking conventions. Hey, I’m a unicorn that can fly. Sorta. For short periods of time. It may be considered more like falling with style, but I’m called ‘the flying unicorn’,” Dusty said with a chuckle.

“Ah saw that. Ah don’t usually go to the movies but Applebloom really wanted to see this one that was playin’ and Ah caught the newsreels. You got some moves, Ah can see that. Might make Rainbow Dash jealous.”

“Or make her a fan. I have a lot of pegasus fans, strangely enough,” Dusty said with a smile, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

“Well she’s already a fierce fan of the Wonderbolts, hard to say if she’s got room for one more in there.”

“That devoted, huh?” he asked with a chuckle. “It’s good to have dreams. Though they don’t always turn out how you like.”

“That’s the funny thing about dreams. If’n one don’t come true, you still got a chance to make a new one,” she said positively. “Sometimes you never know what that new dream will be neither.”

“I hear that,” Dusty said, with quiet fervor. “I… I think I may have found one of those… Only to have it crushed under an avalanche.”

“Hey, Applejack,” Grapes said cheerfully, as they reached the Vineyard gate. “Thanks for bringing Dusty over. I’m sure we both appreciate it.”

“No problem, Grapes. Ah had to come back this way for some more vittles anyways. Turns out there was a whole heap of fresh guard recruits on leave from the Canterlot trainin’ facility on the one-fifteen. Turns out Rare had a good idea in askin’ me to move shop.”

“Hm. I wonder if she put a bug in your ear so you could get the extra business? She can be like that, you know,” Grapes observed thoughtfully. “And Dusty, I’ll set you to pruning the vines, and have some of the guys keep an eye on you so you don’t strain your leg, trying to wheel yourself on the cart. I’ll go and grab you a nice sunhat, too… Just don’t take any teasing too seriously…”

“Wonder why she thinks I’ll get teased?” Dusty asked, as he slowly eased himself out of the cart.

“Aw don’t worry yer head about it, Dusty. Ah’m sure it’ll be fine. Grapes’ll have you to work as soon as you get your things tucked away. Just be glad they fixed up that old shack that she called a bunkhouse. Thing had more wind passin’ through it than a harmonica in a hurricane.”

“So I heard,” Dusty said with a chuckle. “And you should go and get the vittles. I’m sure those guard recruits will want something for the train ride back to Counter-Plot.”

“If’n the bouncer at that tea shop hasn’t put some dents in their armor for bein’ too rowdy.” she laughed. “See y’all later.”

“See ya, Applejack,” Dusty said, with a brief wave. He slowly turned, and hobbled his way toward the renovated bunkhouse. His saddlebags were light, he having sold most of his winter possessions to help with a certain rebuilding project, but Dusty had a few toiletries. He intended to stow those in the smallest room he could find, and get to pruning, using whatever conveyance that Grapes had planned for him. He carefully eased himself onto the porch, and went inside, trying to take it easy on his busted leg as he could.
There was something odd about the design of the building. The curvature of the roof, the swell of the walls and the shape of the windows put him in the mind of it resembling an upside-down boat. Oddly handy if it floods, though probably a nightmare for the personal possessions.

The carpenter must have been a frustrated shipwright, Dusty thought in passing, as he entered the building. Nice to know it’ll be waterproof, during the spring rains.

Entering the building he found it oddly… cosy looking. There was no paint on the walls yet but the wood was definitely beautifully cared-for. The natural tones brought out by some manner of varnish… maybe beeswax. He ran a hoof across the doorframe, admiring the amount of craft put into it when he heard a soft rumbling from what looked like the living room area. Turning his attention in that direction he noticed a few cloud-gray legs sticking out at awkward angles from the sofa that sat with it’s back to him.

“Uh… Hello?” Dusty asked, carefully limping into the living room area.

The snoring stopped and up popped a large head the same color as the legs. Dusty estimated that if the size of the head and shoulders and legs were to be taken as a whole, then this stallion must be in around the same size as the red fellow at the train station… Macintosh was it? Blue eyes blinked in his direction for a moment before they focused.

“Oh. Hello there. Sorry you caught me catching a nap in before the afternoon workload. I’m guessing you’re here to round out the workload here?”

“Kinda. I’m Dusty,” he replied.

“Well a good shower will fix that,” the stallion said before chuckling. “Wait… no, sorry. That’s your name isn’t it? Sorry, it takes me a moment to get up to speed from a dead sleep. At least outside of a crisis, pleased to meet you. I’m Stormfront.”

“So you’re the mysterious ‘Stormy’,” Dusty said with a half smile, then he looked him over critically, and nodded. “You’ll probably be good for her, if you can get Grapes to move faster than a glacier, when it comes to… interpersonal things, if you know what I mean.”

“Tell me about it… not that I was much better. She’s an amazing mare and I felt… intimidated by it. She was smart, and funny and very open when dealing with others. It was kinda hard for me to get my own feelings out in the open about her. Kinda happened by accident too. You know the feeling, like that moment you leap and you don’t know if you’re gonna fly or fall,” He rolled off the sofa onto his hooves and slowly stretched, displaying a pair of wings that all but stunned Dusty with the sight of their size.

“Dude, those are some big wings,” Dusty uttered staring. “Anyway. I should find a nice room, and stow my bags.. And for the record I’m totally not going to ask about the whole pegasi with big wings thing...”

“And don’t think that I don’t appreciate that. Fortunately for you, Summer Squall did think ahead when he renovated this place to be all-year habitable. I only have the biggest room out of necessity, but we got enough for all the current farmhooves and a spare… and there is one more floor he hasn’t even finished yet. Right now it’s functioning as spare storage. Oh yes… and the recreation room is through the trapdoor in the floor there. That’s still a work in progress.”

“Ah. Okay. I’ll find the spare room,” Dusty said with a smile. “And Grapes is going to put me on pruning.”

“Good idea. That’s something you can take at your own pace. I’d recommend you wear one of the communal hats though. Looks like Dash has it set up to be a pretty warm day today. Oh… and try not to make too much noise upstairs. Earshot’s sleeping, or rather he SHOULD be sleeping. Little guy’s been sick and is getting his strength back.”

Dusty nodded, and carefully made his way up the stairs. “Sounds like a good idea,” he said, as he went. “I think I’m going to be wheeled around on a cart or something…” He found the spare room, stowing his bag there, and he made his way back down the hall, carefully, hissing in pain, every now and again.

On the way back towards the stairs he felt as if he were being watched. There was something to be said for instincts honed from hurtling one’s self down the slope of a mountain at high speeds or balancing the curl of a wave large enough to smash you to pieces on submerged rocks. You got sharper-than-normal awareness of the world around you, even if you didn’t always consciously know what you were seeing. He turned his head to the side enough to see a narrow crack between a bright yellow door and it’s frame. For an instant he saw a glittering golden eye peering out from the darkness within before a child’s voice came from the other side of the portal. 

“Hullo.”

“Hey, lil dude,” Dusty replied with a smile.

“You’re Dusty, aren’t you? I saw you in the newsreels. Miss Grapes was worried about you but said you’d probably come here.”

“Yeah. She was right. She’s willing to put up with me, while I’m recovering,” Dusty said nodding. “You’re Earshot, right? Stormfront said you’re s’posed to be sleeping.”

“I know. I just heard you arrive and wanted to say hi.” He paused a moment as if weighing his next words, a surprisingly grown-up mannerism from one who seemed so young. “And I guess I wanted to get this next part over with as soon as I could too. You did say you like ‘bucking convention’ so I’m hoping you can accept this as easily as Miss Grapes did.”

Dusty tilted his head, curiously. “Okay…”

“All right. And just so you know… everypony else here and in town has already seen this. And Miss Grapes can fill you in on the details. I AM supposed to be sleeping at the moment.”

The door was opened with a deliberate slowness, the well-oiled hinges hardly making a sound as it swung inwards. There in the light from the hallway was a little gray colt with a dark purple mane. At first Dusty couldn’t see why Earshot was making such a deal about this, then those instincts began to draw his eyes to the important details. Large pointy ears that would have looked more appropriate on a flying mammal, large golden eyes that could have come from any number of felines he could name, and then he noticed the two black ‘patches’ on his sides opening slightly, displaying their true nature as a pair of leathery-looking bat wings. Dusty had seen some strange ponies in his life, ones who did all manner of strange things to their own bodies like having enough tattoos to look like they were wearing clothing or enough body piercings to always point towards magnetic north but this… something inside of him acknowledged that this pony was the real deal. And his brain told him that he had enough courtesy to give him the truth in a straightforward manner, just as Sour Grapes would no doubt have suggested.

“Lil dude, I’ve seen stranger,” Dusty said honestly with a kind smile. “Although, gotta admit I’ve never seen anything quite like you before. You just look like a little pegasus with bat wings. Nothing really wrong with it, just different.”

Earshot smiled, little fangs glinting in the light, looking more cute than menacing. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how many ponies I’ve met that have had trouble with how I look.”

“Ponies can be cruel,” Dusty said quietly, with a nod.

“Yeah. But they can be kind too. The first two daylighters I met had almost nothing to call their own, but they shared it with me. There are a lot of good ponies out there who just need a little time to… accept things,” Earshot gave him a curious smile and looked over at the stairs with an expression of concern. “Uh oh. Miss Grapes is coming. It was nice meeting you, I hope to work with you soon, Mister Dusty.”

"Awesome to meet you, too, lil dude," he said extending his hoof for a friendly hoof-bump… or bro-hoof depending on who you asked. Earshot looked at it in a confused manner for a moment before Dusty realised what was going on. “Oh, sorry, lil dude. It’s a Bro-hoof. You just bump your hoof against mine.”

“Oh! Oh ok,” the colt said, catching on and tapping his own hoof against Dusty’s. “Be hearing you later.” 

“Sure thing, lil dude. Catch you later,” he said, going to the stairs, and very carefully making his way down.

“I take it you met Earshot,” Grapes observed with a smile.

“Yeah. He’s pretty cool,” Dusty replied.

“Well I’ve set you up with a barrel cart. Whistle when you’re ready to move to a different row. As long as you don’t overexert yourself, you should be fine,” Grapes said, as she lead him out. He sat down, carefully arranging himself on the cart, and Grapes maneuvered him to the first row. She then helped him put on a sun-faded vest. “Be sure you use your good legs to push yourself. That’ll be your uniform, and here’s your sunhat.” With that she plopped a nice large sunhat on Dusty’s head.

“Always prepared, huh, Grapes?” Dusty asked, levitating a set of pruning shears.

“Eeyup,” Grapes said with a grin.

“Getting settled in?” Stormfront asked trotting up. “Ah good, you’re wearing the Vineyard colours. You’ll fit right in.”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to do, big guy,” Dusty said tapping his hat with his free hoof.

“Good to hear. Now it’s kinda obvious you’re not gonna be doing a lot of heavy lifting with that,” Stormy said motioning at Dusty’s leg. “So if it comes to that, don’t hesitate to ask, M’kay? Believe me when I say I know what it’s like to not be able to use a few limbs for a while.”

“Will do, big guy. And thanks. Any help’s appreciated, while the leg’s healing up,” Dusty said with a nod.

“Also don’t hesitate to ask for water, and the like,” Grapes added. “I do not let my workers get dehydrated.” With that they went to check on some other things.

Stormy walked with Grapes a moment before dropping his voice “So that’s him? He seems ok enough. On the whole it takes a lot to get under Queenie’s skin, I can’t even imagine what happened that got her angry enough to hold that sort of grudge… speaking of which do we have a contingency plan for when she inevitably finds out he’s breathing the same air as her?”

“Well the plan is to evoke the nepotism, and ‘I’m the boss’ cards, initially,” Grapes said with a sigh. “She knew I had a cousin coming here to recuperate. She just didn’t know that my cousin and the object of her ire are the same pony. Though I’m pretty sure that Dusty will be doing his best to avoid her at all costs, when he discovers her here. He tends to take statements like ‘I never want to see you again’ pretty seriously.”

“If that’s what she said then she probably believes she meant it. Note I said ‘believes’, one thing about Queenie is that she tries to never doubt herself, she feels it makes her a stronger leader. If it turns out she’s wrong then she’ll admit it, but at least she moved with certainty at the time. It can make her stubborn at times though.” 

“Well. That’s always a good thing. Dusty… Well… He can be smart, and dumb at the same time, and he’s so generous it’s a fault,” Grapes observed. “I’m sure the folks at Avalanche Valley are singing his praises for he giving all his prize money, and savings to the rebuilding effort, but… well… He had to depend on his fandom to get him here. He’s also probably working on ways to get Avalanche Valley back to the state of being ‘in the black’ it would have been before the avalanche. Like I said, so generous it’s a fault. And he probably doesn’t even care if she wants to talk to him again or not. He figures that’s blown, but doing what he can to reverse the Valley’s fortunes is the least he could do for her.”

“Good luck with that. From what I understand from Queenies long.. LONG historical lectures on her homeland they’ve been on the edge of absolute bankruptcy for generations. That’s gonna take more than a single act of heroism to undo. You know… unless gold rains from the sky or something,” Stormfront replied doubtfully.

“I’m sure Dusty’s got a plan or two… He does have his father’s business savvy, after all, believe it or not,” Grapes replied. “And if worse comes to worse… He’s willing to give up his freedom. He’s that badly smitten.”

“Wow. You really think they… you know… ‘zinged’?”

“If I could get a copy of that newsreel, you’d see it for yourself, Stormy,” Grapes replied. “And I could show you Dusty’s letter he wrote… He’s head-over-hooves.

“All right. Sounds like fun… Uhm… speaking of which. Are you… busy later tonight? Maybe ten-ish?” Stormy asked, tentatively.

“I usually wash my mane by six… I should be free by then,” Grapes quipped with an amused smile.

“Well there’s something I wanted to share with you later, but it’s a surprise.”

“Sounds intriguing,” Grapes observed. “I’ll look forward to tonight.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Although not a scorcher the sun was very warm and Dusty was very glad his cousin had given him a vest and a hat. He was far more used to situations where he could depend on his environment to keep him from overheating. The spray of the water or just opening his jacket up for mountain air. Here among the rows he had to defer to common sense to not get sunstroke. Take short breaks, wear protective covering and…

“You have been out here for some time, sir. Seeing as you are no camel, I must tell you that it is unwise to risk the sun’s wrath without water nearby.”

Dusty looked up… and up. Wow this mare was tall. The color of desert sand, with a mane and tail as black as ink, with a shininess that would make many other mares jealous.

“Oh. Yeah. But with this leg it’s kinda hard for me to go and get some. I’d appreciate it if you’d grab me some, miss, if it’s no trouble.” Dusty said with a warm smile. He had never seen such an exotic-looking pegasus, her feathery wings folded neatly at her sides.

She nodded and with a slight smile went out of sight around the bend in the rows. Dusty had a little time to think, this one would make three Pegasai he’s seen today, counting the little bat-winged one of course. Normally Grapes (and the rest of every farm he had ever heard of) had Earth-ponies working it. Had she brought in some manner of equal-opportunity rule… or was there something more at work here? The mare returned, carrying a large wooden bucket with a ladle in it. She set it at his feet and nodded. 

“I believe I can presume you are not lame of horn as much as you are lame of leg, yes? I can trust you to be able to drink easily?”

“Yes, I can, miss,” Dusty said, using his magic to dip some out, and sip it down, slowly, obviously savoring the water’s taste. “Thanks again. I’m called Dusty.”

“An auspicious name to be certain. From dust we came and dust we go. I am Sirocco, as you may have guessed I am quite new to these western lands.”

“Nice to meet you, Sirocco,” Dusty replied with a nod. “Uh… I hope you don’t find my question rude, but… Well it’s just totally odd to see pegasi working a farm, and…”

“Oh I do not find it rude at all. The truth is, this is not my usual line of work. I am… moonfighting, yes? My usual job of working with storms does not happen as often, and so at the recommendation of Stormfront and the willingness of Sour Grapes I find myself here, doing an honest day’s shirk for an honest day’s play.”

“Uh… the term’s ‘moonlighting’. From when folks would work after dark, in the moonlight. Usually doing illegal stuff,” Dusty explained. “And the other term is ‘an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay. And… Yeah that sounds like Grapes.”

“Really?” she asked before pulling a book from under her wing and looking through it. “Ah yes. Sorry. You are correct. Equestrian idioms have always given me trouble.”

“Sometimes they give me trouble, and I speak the language,” Dusty chuckled. “But then… There are specialized idioms. Snowboarders don’t use the same slang as surfers, and beach bums don’t use the same slang as snow bunnies… Uh… Beach bums are kind of obvious. They’re folks who hang out on the beach. And snow bunnies are often mares who visit ski resorts. A surfer is a pony who rides a board on the waves at a beach, and a snowboarder is a pony who rides a board down a slope at a ski resort. The only thing they have in common is riding a type of board, but that’s about it. Even the boards are different, because they have different functions, and different mediums they have to work with. Snow isn’t the same as sea water after all.”

“Ah. Good to know. Hmm… I wonder what manner of board one would need to slide down a sand dune?”

Dusty sat there looking thoughtful, tapping a hoof against his chin. “Hmmmm… Something with the lack of a steering fin and hoof-straps of a snowboard, but with the curvature of a surfboard, and lacquered enough to withstand silica abrasion,” he said thoughtfully. “Or maybe just a windsurf board with all-terrain wheels or sand-skids.” 

“Very possible. Perhaps mister Redline would be willing to make such conveyances. He lives in the north field with his little sister and he is very much the kind of inventor who likes thinking upside the box.”

“Outside,” Dusty corrected. “The box being another way of saying ‘convention’. So a pony who thinks ‘outside of the box’ is somebody who sees things differently, and can make connections that others don’t.”

“Ah. I see. Then I can honestly say that mister Redline is very far out of the box. Almost dangerously so. No I tell a lie. He is very much dangerously so. But he at least means well, and if you keep him busy he is far LESS dangerous.”

“Ah. Right. Less time to think like a mad scientist out of a Daring Do book… But yeah… There’s a reason why it’s said that the road to Tartarus is paved with good intentions,” Dusty uttered with a shake of his head. “Anyway… I should get back to pruning… I know Grapes doesn’t have me on a quota, but I really shouldn’t be sitting here chatting, either. Still, it was totally awesome to meet you, Legs.”

“Legs?”

“Yes ma’am. It’s a nickname. ‘Cause you’ve got legs for miles… Which is a way of saying you’ve got some nice long legs,” Dusty said, and quickly explained.

“Legs for miles…” she said examining herself for a moment before smiling. “That is an idiom I can stand behind.”

“Or at least stand on,” Dusty said jokingly, as he went back to pruning. “I wonder if Grapes wants to make stuffed grape leaves?” he pondered, then began to set aside some nice-looking specimens.

“Perhaps you should mention it when next you see her. I shall leave the bucket here for you. Kindly remember to keep hydrated. You will find it far easier to sweat when you have moisture to sweat with,” Sirocco cautioned.

“Thanks. I’ll remember that,” he said waving as she trotted off.

Work progressed slowly but steadily. Dusty had to admit it had been a while since he 
had to do this sort of manual labor, not really hard work but prolonged. He absentmindedly lifted the ladle to his lips again, Sirocco had good advice in keeping hydrated, he had been far more productive without being distracted by thirst… at least until now. The ladle was dry and a quick glance down to the bucket revealed he had drunk all the water in it. Had he really been out here that long?

He had gone a fair way down the row as well, the cart had really made things more tolerable as far as his leg went. But it was a fair distance to… where WAS the well in this place anyways? Probably closer to the buildings but totally not next to the outhouses… even he could see that would have been a bad idea. And speaking of outhouses, not ALL of that water was sweated away. He sighed, looking around, and kind of reluctant to call somepony away from their own work, but he didn’t really have much of a choice.

“Hello?” he called. “Anypony out here?”

There was a flapping sound from somewhere to the east and a moment later a bright orange streak surged past… then it came around for a slower approach. Not many ponies had such a vivid shade of orange, and the bright yellow mane seemed to give the pegasus above him the impression that he was made of fire. He looked down at Dusty then smiled the same kind of smile he often saw on the slopes, that cocky grin of somepony who not only thought he was good… but knew he had the skills to pay the bills. 

“Dude, nice entrance,” Dusty said with smile of his own.

“Thanks. New guy, huh? Must’ve just arrived today for Grapes to put you to work out here.” The young stallion stopped flapping and gracefully glided to the ground next to him. He rubbed a hoof against his chest before extending it for a hoofshake, Dusty caught the lingering scent of burnt grass lingering about him. “Name’s Firestormer. Good to meet another wage-slave around here.”

“Dusty,” he said, shaking his hoof. “And yeah… Yet another wage slave, but… it’s more of a working recovery. Grapes an’ I go back a ways, and if you ask her, she’ll give ya an earful about my being too generous, but if I’ve got the bits, and they could use ‘em, what’s the point of keeping ‘em? I’ve developed a taste for grass, so I think it’s better if the bits go to a good cause, because ponies can survive on grass and river water.”

“Don’t suppose you like the taste of Blackgrass, huh? Sorry, nopony likes Blackgrass. Just got back from Amber Waves’ farm and she has the stuff in a bad way. One of the few natural plants that has developed a resistance to major herbicides and even most common anti-weed magics. About the only ‘easy’ methods of dealing with it are surface cultivation after the harvest and a good old fashioned stubble-burning. I’m not usually for it but if it works then it works, and it’s my job to try to help keep that sort of thing under control.”

“Stubble burning huh? That explains why you smell like a barbeque,” Dusty observed with a chuckle, he then sighed. “I hate being so helpless, but this leg… It’s best if I try to stay off it as much as I can, you know what I’m sayin’?”

“Well here… met me give you a wing, then.” he grinned before zipping behind the cart and bracing his forehooves against it. Dusty’s instincts instantly went on high alert as Firestormer began pushing. “Please keep all legs and horns inside the vehicle at all times and do not attempt to disembark until we have reached a complete stop.”

“Sure thing, Sparky,” Dusty said holding on as best he could.

Dusty was glad he was used to going at high speeds and as the rows became a blur of green and white it was actually pretty refreshing to experience it again. He had a feeling that Firestormer could probably go even faster than he was currently going at but was holding back because he didn’t want to risk causing property damage. Still they got out of the rows rather quickly and he was propelled into the main “courtyard” of buildings where they came to a fairly abrupt stop in front of a green pony with a shock of purple mane which reminded him of a thistle, and wearing a yellow vest. 

“For me? Why, Firestormer, how did you ever know I had a thing for blondes?” the green pony uttered, grinning.

“Easy, Thistledown, he’s an employee,” Firestormer said rolling his eyes.

“Aw darn.”

“Don’t swing that way, anyhow, dude,” Dusty said shaking his head. “And my dad may be a bit old for you.”

“Story of my life,” he chuckled before taking Dusty’s hoof and shaking it vigorously. “Name’s Thistledown, in charge of artistic concerns at Grapevine Hills. You know… labels, posters, icons on the sides of crates. When I’m not sketching my life away I’m also working the fields with the rest of the flock. You’ve already met my hot-blooded buddy Firestormer. Don’t worry, he’s that ‘token’ straight friend we’re all allowed to have.”

“Uh… Right. You seem to making another ‘token’ straight friend, dude,” Dusty said with a chuckle. “Anyway… Is this a break or something? What time is it?”

“Call it your cider break,” Firestormer said with a shrug. “If I know Grapes you’ve been working since you got here.. actually I could see you got pretty far with that row so she won’t object to you getting up, stretching a little or taking a few minutes load off, grabbing more water for your bucket or just draining the euphemism.”

“I did stow my bags, meet the Lil’ Dude, get the vest and hat… But, yeah I’ve been working since I got here,” Dusty observed, rubbing the back of his neck with his unbraced hoof.

“Well then. You got fifteen coming to you then,” Firestormer agreed. “Just let me know when you’re ready and I’ll take you right back.” 

“Thanks, dudes,” Dusty said with a smile. “Got some nice grape leaves, too. Maybe Grapes will make her stuffed grape leaves. You ever have it? They’re pretty good.”

“Not yet,” the orange pony said “Keep in mind she’s gotta make food in bulk for us. Sometimes that means she’s gotten something from town and sometimes it means a good stew or soup. Still good though.”

“Well the recipe tends to be specific. Only use leaves from spring. Guess summer grape leaves are too tough, and fall leaves would be too dry,” Dusty observed.

“Well, if we’re nice maybe she’ll make some,” Thistledown said with a smile.

“That’s why I’ve been saving good-lookin’ grape leaves,” Dusty said with a grin. “Because the dish is pretty amazing, and it can be made in a nice big batch, if she has helps rolling the grape leaf packets.”

Firestormer glanced over at Sour Grapes’ home and then back to Dusty. “If we linger here too long all we’ll be getting a serving of is harsh words. Tell you what, I’ll refill your bucket for you while you make use of the outhouses and whatever else you need to do for your break… and maybe suggest to her that as a dinner option. I have to admit I’m intrigued by it.”

“Okay, Sparky. Wheel me close to the outhouse, if you would, please and thank you?” Dusty requested.

It certainly was a load off of Dusty’s mind (and bladder) to use the outhouse, he hadn’t even realised how badly he needed it until he started. He was just glad help had been nearby at the time, he wasn’t certain if he would have found his way out of the rows without… well… watering the grapes. Still Thistledown and Firestormer were pretty cool and naturally friendly, certainly a huge change from the teammates his promoter/agent liked to team him up with and his usual fans. Not that he would want to speak ill of his fans. If it weren’t for them he probably wouldn’t have gotten all the way from the Icebreaker Memorial Hospital to Ponyville completely “off the grid”. It was important that his grandmother not be able to locate him or she would take his injury as a weakness she could exploit to lever him into a loveless Canterlot marriage. (Sometimes he wondered if his grandfather was really dead or just hiding from his grandmother.) So with the assistance of the doctors and some loyal fans he, ironically enough, “Couch-Surfed” his way here. All it really cost him was a long line of posing with fans for photos and answering the same questions for them, again and again. Oh yes.. and the occasional marriage proposal. But he always declined graciously, and politely, wishing for them to find their true love.

True love meant a lot to Dusty. In fact it was due to the one encounters that he actually had with his now-wayward (or deceased) grandfather that he discovered there was such a thing. He was sick in bed, and his grandfather read The Princess Bride to him. To this day, that is his favorite book, especially now he understands all the wry humor and wonderful wit that Morganstern put into it. He had the chance for true love, and ended up blowing it thanks to his flankhole teammates. Now he was going to do everything in his power to make sure Queenie, wherever she is, gets the chance to find her own True Love. Even if it’s not him, giving her the freedom to find her own… Well that was worth anything.

Now he was back pruning the vines, humming a happy little tune. He has water, he’s been to the loo, and he’s dividing up grape leaves into nice specimens to be eaten once filled with a delicious stuffing. Well… he had water. Afternoon had gotten warmer, and after the break, he had been quite industrious.

“Uh… Hello? Could somebody lend me a hoof, please?” Dusty called.

He heard a set of hooves from behind him, and a soft inhale of air. Definitely somepony was there, but before he could turn in their direction a voice spoke, one that he had heard in his dreams every night since Avalanche Valley.

“What have we here? A new scarecrow for the vineyard, or is he here just looking for a brain?”

Dusty froze, trying to hide under his hat. “C-can’t afford a brain,” he stuttered trying hard to make his voice sound different. “Flying monkeys broke my stick, and now I’m having to work to even afford straw to stuff myself with…”

His eyes flicked downwards seeing the mare’s shadow on the ground as she approached. Oh, sweet Celestia, even her shadow was gorgeous. She entered his line of sight; if she looked beautiful amid the fields of snow and ice of her homeland, then here, juxtaposed with the greens and browns she was positively radiant. Even the neutral expression on her face looked graceful and worthy of being immortalised in stone. 

“And… what have I done to warrant a visit from an angel?” Dusty whispered quietly.

Queenie blinked in a surprised manner before blessing him with a thin but wry smile.

“I see your tongue and wit are still intact. Then again, you only kept walking about on a broken leg.”

Dusty looked at the leg brace. “And boy am I paying for that. Oh well. I couldn’t just lay there, when ponies needed help. So… This is the agricultural concern you mentioned?”

“Obviously. It makes for a nice change of scenery from the valley, and in it’s own way has become a home away from home. I find I am learning a great deal here and may set about attempting to grow grapes for an ice wine next year. The extra revenue would come in handy for my countrymares and stallions. Miss Sour Grapes has been most understanding and a fair employer. She even said that her cousin would be dropping by sometime this spring and asked me as a personal favour to be nice to… oh, fewmets, it’s you, isn’t it?” she said the reality suddenly clicking in. “And SHE is the ‘outspoken’ mare you mentioned, isn’t she?” 

“Guilty as charged,” Dusty said sheepishly. “And you’re right, but then, that is a pretty good description of Grapes, you have to admit.”

“Certainly more accurate than my own suggestion your cousin might be ‘troublesome’. If anything she has a way of ending trouble, or containing it,” She was silent a moment before tossing her golden tresses to the side in a well-practiced motion that made his heart skip a beat. “Fine. She must have guessed the stallion I met was you and tricked me into promising to be nice. I have my pride, I will NOT go back on my word. But make no mistake, sir. I have not forgotten things by a long shot. Now… fellow.. employee. You asked for assistance.”

“Yes’m. If it would not be too much trouble, could I please have a refill on my water bucket, if you would be so kind?” Dusty asked. “And… I… did write about you… You… you were a fairly big part of that trip… Also, the avalanche made all the newsreels… One thing Grapes has been good at is putting things together.”

“That she is,” Queenie said, picking up the bucket and hanging it off of a little hook on her vest, and started to walk away. “Infuriatingly so.”

Dusty watched her turn and prepare to leave, before resolutely going back to pruning the vines. That ship dashed itself pieces on a giant brass cannon. He would treat her with the respect that a fellow co-worker should have, but he would not do anything more. If they become friends, then so-be-it, but… Best not to pine for what was lost, but he will make sure she finds something for herself. He continued pruning away, not paying attention to her absence, and just… trying to soothe the ache in his heart. May as well get used to it. She will find somepony else… And he may have to accept the shackles he’s been avoiding for so long.

She was if nothing else, fair about her agreement with her employer. She did bring back the bucket and it was full of water, and he was certain that she didn’t even spit in it or anything… not that he felt she actually WOULD. Such an act of contempt somehow seemed so… beneath her. The water was cool and refreshing, it actually felt glacially cold going down his throat. He wondered if she got it from the icebox or if it was just his mind playing tricks on him. 

“Thank you,” he said, sounding grateful. “I appreciate the refill.”

“It would be remiss of me to allow one of Sour Grapes’ workers to shrivel up like a raisin in the sun. Do you need anything else? I have chores of my own to attend to.”

“Nothing at this moment, ma’am,” Dusty said quietly. “And I’m sure there will be others around who can lend a hoof, when I do. You just got the luck of the rotation, I guess. I will try not to bother you again.”

She gave him a nod and walked back down the row to whatever task she had been doing before. Dusty stared for a moment, remembering a line from one of Rodeo Flip’s favorite songs “We hate to see her go but LOVE to watch her leave”. He then suddenly had a facehoof moment. Now he knew who Applejack was reminding him of. She had very similar looks and mannerisms to his ex-teammate Rodeo Flip… only she was nicer, better behaved, less crass… If Queenie had met Applejack before arriving at the contest then no wonder Rodeo Flip disturbed her so. It was like seeing a good friend’s warped reflection in a funhouse mirror. Thankfully he would never have to worry about those two ever again. That manager had been fired, and he had sicced his father on the blackguard. Dusty was sure there was some underhanded dealings going on, and his Dad strangely enough trusted his son’s instincts.

“So how have you been doing, Dusty?” Grapes asked several hours later, when she came to check up on him. “Looks like you’ve been making good progress.”

“Yeah,” Dusty said, absently as he pruned more leaves.

“Okay. Something’s eating at you, and you apparently want me to make stuffed grape leaves in the near future.”

“You were always good at deduction, cuz,” Dusty replied with a chuckle. “It’s just… I saw somepony I wasn’t expecting to see…”

“Oh yeah. Queenie already got onto me about my tricking her into accepting my blatant nepotism,” Grapes chuckled. “But I figured with you in a leg brace, there was no way you could avoid her without doing yourself serious injury.”

“Oh… Good point,” Dusty said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Also I hear you’ve been giving nicknames to everypony,” Grapes said sounding amused.

“You know me,” Dusty said sheepishly.

“Sirocco seems especially taken with hers,” Grapes observed.

“Gotta admit, she does have legs for miles,” Dusty said with a grin.

“That she does. Oh well. Just glad to see you getting along with everypony here for the most part,” Grapes said. “You’ll be able to stop soon, and get some rest.”

“Thanks, cuz. And thanks for letting me come here,” Dusty said with a warm smile.

“Better than being paraded like a stud stallion in Canterlot, I bet,” Grapes said with a smirk.

“Any day of the week, Grapes, any day of the week,” Dusty asserted, going back to work.

The sun was starting to get lower and lower towards the horizon. It might no longer be winter but it was still some time before the long days of summer. Dusty “propelled” his cart back towards the main buildings and felt the dull ache of a long day’s work in his muscles. Had he actually been bedridden that much after his injury? Then again, as an athlete it took so little for him to feel like he was getting out of shape. He rolled his little cart towards where Grapes had earlier pointed out the dining table for the communal meals, when he noted a steady scraping sound from the barn. Diverting himself ever so slightly from his course he felt he could afford to sate his curiosity a little. 
The doors were open and the interior was lit with the warm golden glow of hurricane lamps. And there in the middle was an older pegasus stallion, hard to say how old he really was, but he was dressed in a red and white striped shirt, a wide belt and a funny little captain’s hat. He was currently occupied by a task of his own, repeatedly pushing a wood plane across a long plank suspended on a pair of sawhorses. He seemed so content and absorbed in his task, each long stroke sending a golden curl to the floor. After a minute of watching this, the pegasus ceased his activity to test the wood’s smoothness and without even turning around to see him, addressed his presence.

“Aye? Is dinner ready?”

“I totally wouldn’t know, Cap’n,” Dusty replied. “I just rolled in from the field.”

NOW the pegasus turned around, no doubt he didn’t realise that Dusty wasn’t one of the others. For a moment Dusty had the very… uncomfortable sensation of being sized up. To be honest, he knew the feeling very well; he always got it from fellow competitors. That moment where they look at you for weaknesses to exploit or what strengths you had that would make you a threat. Tartarus, he found himself doing the same right now with the pony in front of him, he just… wasn’t finding a lot of weaknesses. This guy reminded him of leather, he had seen how age could often toughen that particular substance and he saw it in him. He also felt painfully aware of his own gimpy leg at the moment, wishing he was at least not half in a little wagon. The stallion gave him a smirk and nodded.

“New lad, eh? The fact yer blonde, in good shape and have that thar contraption on yer leg tells me that you must be Sour Grapes’ cousin. She said you’d be droppin’ by for the season. Name’s Summer Squall, or jest Squall if you’d be needin a shorter name, but I ain’t adverse to being called Cap’n neither. It’s more accurate than you probably first suspected.”

“I tend to give ponies nicknames, Cap’n,” Dusty said saluting. “And you kinda talk like a pirate, so…” He noticed that Squall smiled a little wider at that comment.

“Aye. Fair enough, fair enough. Probably is time for dinner, and I’m at a point in me work where stopping here isn’t interrupting anything. I have to confess, I’ve made more use of me father’s lessons here than I have in the last few years. On any farm, a carpenter of any sort is always welcome.”

“I imagine so… So… you built the bunkhouse, huh?” Dusty asked, as he wheeled himself back towards it.

“Not so much built, but renovated. It’s easier that way, but aye. She’s shipshape and bristol fashioned.”

“And she’s also shaped like a ship, and you look like a sailor. Your dad’s a shipwright, right?” Dusty asked with a grin, as he slowly levered himself off the cart, and eased his way up the stairs.

“Aye. One of the finest you could ever hope to have as part of the construction crew for a vessel. Even these days he keeps a hoof in, you seen those new airships that roll out of the hangers these days? Chances are you’ve seen his craft in them.”

“Yeah. It’s… possible,” Dusty murmured evasively.

“Well, there you are then. All in all he’s adapted to the new shipbuilding industry pretty well. I’m guessing Grapes has already given you the Picayune-tour of the bunkhouse?”

“Well, I kind of wandered around on my own. Just to the room I’m staying in, and back. I’m not exactly up for a lot of walking, as you can tell,” Dusty replied. “I’m sure you’ll get an earful about me, from another pony, later… Guess she’ll need something to complain about…”

“Ah. You’re the Powder-trash she met back in the mountains.”

“... I… Is that what she’s been calling me?” Dusty asked, then hung his head. “Man… She… She must really hate me… Don’t blame her…”

The older pony’s expression didn’t really change, he just looked at him through the side of his eyes before giving a shrug. 

“Maybe she does hate you, maybe she doesn’t. I’ve seen sailors filled with impotent rage when their ships were dashed to pieces. They spend a long time just… hating anypony and anything that seemed remotely involved. Anything from the Captain to a cabincolt can be the target of their venom. It’s ok to feel guilty lad, it means you actually give a bucket of bilgewater for what happened, just don’t beat yerself up TOO much. Queenie saw her home buried in snow and ice, she probably needs just a little time to get used to you being around here. That’s all.”

“I’m the one who set off the cannon,” Dusty said quietly. “So… I think she has reason.”

The mariner extinguished the lamps and led Dusty out of the barn.

“Fine, it’s easier to blame you than normal, but I have a suspicion she doesn’t hate you as badly as you think.”

“She sounded pretty sincere when she told me she never wanted to see me again, Cap’n,” Dusty observed, as they made their way to the dining area. “What makes you think she doesn’t hate me that badly?”

There was a white blur from his left and a soft, wet, COLD impact on the side of his face. He stood there a moment, completely stunned by the event, uncertain HOW to react to what happened. He could feel the cold combination of ice and water trickling down his collar before looking where it came from, and there to the left was the object of his discussion, giving him a smug smirk.

“If you want to be fed, better get into gear, ‘wheels’. Nopony is gonna sit around waiting for you to catch up.”

“As you wish,” Dusty said, with a bob of his head, and he limped to an empty seat… Away from the object of his affection. At the words “as you wish”, Grapes looked up, and gazed speculatively at Dusty, then smirked, as if she had gotten an inside joke.

“And there’s yer proof, Lad. If she TRULY hated you, that would have been solid ice and you’d probably be lookin’ fer yer teeth amid the mashed potatoes. There’s forgiveness in there... somewhere. Just be patient,” Squall said, then blinked as if remembering something. “Eat up, Dusty. Good Work, Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill ye in the mornin’.”

Dusty, and Grapes both looked at Squall in surprise. Dusty just grinned, and held his hoof out to Squall for him to bump, and found the offer accepted with a light bump from the elder pony.

“Squall,” Grapes said as she served everypony, “you have excellent taste in books.”

“What can I say, Miss Grapes? It had pirates. How could I NOT read it?”

“... Great I’m probably going to have to read it to Earshot now, I bet,” Grapes muttered. “Pirates, sword fights, adventure, a beautiful princess, true love…”

“Don’t you mean ‘Twoo wuvv’?” Stormy snickered.

“What? You too?” Grapes asked, grinning, as she sat down, getting ready to eat.

“Dude! I knew you were awesome, Big Guy!” Dusty said laughing.

“... Obviously I’m not getting what’s being referenced,” Queenie said sounding annoyed.

“You and me both, sister,” Firestormer said, taking advantage of the distraction by seizing the lion’s share of the salad. “But it sounds interesting. Is it the kind of story you’d read to Earshot?”

“It’s a very good book. Written by a stallion named Morganstern,” Grapes said with a smile.

“Cuz, I am totally doing the ‘mawwage’ speech at your wedding, whenever you have one,” Dusty said with a grin.

“What? Seriously? Way to make sure I postpone anything until you forget, wiseguy,” Grapes said shaking a hoof at him.

“C’mon, Cuz, it’d be a great way to lighten the mood!” Dusty said with a grin. He then cleared his throat, and did a very impressive imitation of the one actor that sort of codified the play into having the speech given just as he had, thanks to his speech impediment. “Mawage. Mawage is wot bwings us togeder today. Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam…” 

Grapes blinked, then laughed. And she found a fair number of ponies joining her.

“That…” Firestorm said as he laughed, “just made me wanna see if the town library carried that one.”

“I’ve got a copy that I’m going to be using to read it to Earshot,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “Dusty may lend you his, though.”

“Just be sure to give it back, Sparky,” Dusty said with a smile. “It’s my favorite book.”

Queenie just stared around the table, and huffed in annoyance. “This… This is utterly inconceivable,” she grumbled, causing a snigger from Dusty and Grapes, and a chuckle from Squall.

“You keep using that word,” Stormfront laughed. “I do not think it means what you think it means.”

“I just walked RIGHT into another quote, didn't I?” Queenie uttered with a sigh.

“Maybe you should read the book to Earshot, Queenie,” Grapes suggested. “Then you’ll both be experiencing it for the first time.”

The blue and blonde mare looked down her nose at Grapes for a moment before nodding with a smile. “So be it. If for no other reason than it will keep Earshot put for a while… knowing what the hay you are referencing will be just a pleasant plus.”

“You’ve been missing out,” Dusty said as he ate. “It’s a really good book.”

Queenie GLARED at the bane of her existence, which made him flatten his ears against his skull, look away, and shut up.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stormfront led her away from the warm glow of the buildings into the forest on the side of her property. She got a strange feeling of déjà vu from this, it wasn’t that long ago that she followed him late one summer night to an open field in the woods… and… here it was. She looked around the clearing, the starlit sky was cloudless and stretched out above like a great dome. He smiled back at her, his cloud gray coat looking somewhat white under the pale light of the moon. Part of her remembered that he told her that he wanted to “show her something” and she suppressed an impish giggle.

“Why, here we are, all alone beneath the stars. Are your intentions honourable, good sir?” Grapes asked, batting her eyelashes cutely.

“Always.”

“Of all the rotten luck,” Grapes said jokingly, smiling warmly at Stormfront. He smiled back that winning smile that always made her heart add an extra beat in before he shook his shoulders from side to side as if limbering up.

“I think you said you already saw this before, but I really wanted to share the experience with you. See where my wings connect with my back? I want you to do as you probably did as a filly and just… imagine having wings extending from there.”

“This reminds me of the ‘Breath of the World’ meditation,” Grapes observed, closing her eyes, and doing as she was asked. It was, strangely, easy to imagine wings. She thought it would be harder, thanks to her being a ground-bound pony, but apparently her reading had allowed her imagination to grow. But then it helped that she didn’t limit her reading to Earth Pony and Unicorn authors. “Okay. Now why am I doing this?”

“Well, it’s because I’d like to take you flying but you do have a problem with anything higher than a stepladder,” he said to her she could hear the sound of him opening his own wings before whispering into her ear. “Ah. Here it comes. Turn a little to the east and wait for it.”

Grapes turned a little to the east, and waited. “I only have a problem when I look down,” she observed. “But then… I doubt you’d find having somepony vomiting on you during a flight to be a pleasant experience.”

“I think you’d have to be one weird pony to enjoy that. But trust me… this you’re going to enjoy,” she heard the rustle of trees from the east, then grass joined in and finally she felt a strong breeze rushing over her, tousling her mane and tickling her face. “Now… open your wings and let the wind lift you.”

“Just hope my imagination doesn’t get air sick,” Grapes quipped, as she imagined herself… soaring. “Right. Idealized. I wouldn’t be afraid of heights if I had wings, because I have wings. And if all else fails I can fall with style.”

“We’re going to keep fairly low, You and I. Just skimming the fields and the treetops. Big bushy trees passing below us like great green poofy clouds, just barely high enough to tickle your hooves as we soar past.”

Grapes smiled, as she imagined flying with Stormy… Strangely she envisioned herself as an alicorn. Guess she was too used to having a horn. Even so, she was enjoying the experience, immensely.

“Keep the beat slow and steady. Like the gentle beat of a drum. That’s right,” he directed. “We’re just going to crest the next hill and… look… Ponyville! You can see the town hall from here.”

“You can see Town Hall from a lot of places. Hey, I can see Sugarcube Corner from here,” Grapes observed.

“That’s right. If you inhale deeply, you can just catch on the wind the smell of tomorrow’s sugar cookies being baked. Mmm… I should remember to get some.”

Sour Grapes had to admit, she was really getting into this. She really could smell those sugar cookies from up here.

“Please do. Not to belittle your baking efforts… Well… Let’s just say nopony feels like doing anything after they’ve tried your treats,” Sour Grapes observed.

“Gently turn into the wind and we’ll bank around the Town hall and swoop past Rarity’s place. Hopefully she’ll have her curtains shut this time. Last thing we need to see is her in her hopelessly frilly sleepwear.”

“I did not need that mental image, Stormy,” Grapes groused. “Though it would fit with what we know about her. Still, WTMI.”

“Well, to be honest I’ve never actively looked. She just seems the type, you know? I mean I work with one of those kinds of ponies. Although she doesn't seem to make a big deal about us seeing her in that stuff.”

“True. And Queenie tends to look positively comfortable in such things,” Grapes observed. “And before you ask… no. No I do not have anything like that.”

“Aw, darn.”

“Stormfront, you know I’m a practical pony,” Grapes said, amused. “Can you imagine me in frilly stuff? Wait… don’t answer that. Of course you can. And you probably think I’d look good in it.”

“Wait! How did you guess?”

“You’re male,” Grapes said, as if that should be blatantly obvious.

“Oh. Ok, well to be honest you probably wouldn’t look BAD in it, that’s for sure,” he chuckled. “Not that I’m going to buy you any at this time. I don’t think we’ve gotten anyplace near that level in our relationship yet.”

“Brains as well as big wings. My good Stormfront, you could positively sweep a mare off her hooves,” Grapes quipped. “I think we’ve turned back, and are heading home. It feels like it’s getting late, and we do still have to get up fairly early.”

“Yep. Hey, look at that… You can see Golden Harvest’s spread from this angle. Never really understood the carrot motif. I can’t help but feel it’s more than just pride in her main product. Almost a fetish.” 

“Yeah yeah… Just don’t peek in her windows,” Grapes said, as they flew back.

“Ok. The clearings just up ahead, gotta clear the bunkhouse… aw for the love of.. Earshot! Get off the roof and back into bed! You’re still recovering!”

“Sorry, Stormfront!” came the faint voice of Earshot.

“Ok… here’s the fun part, Grapes. Tilt your wings ever so gently back to slow your gliding down, that’s right. And we’re slowing down, getting closer to the ground and… perfect landing on the first try. So gentle you didn’t even feel your hooves coming into contact with the ground.”

Grapes smirked at the comment, but refrained from commenting, herself.

“Well? Was it as good for you?” Stormy asked.

From the smirk that Grapes was wearing, it was obvious that her earthy sense of humor had gotten the better of her, just then.

“What? What’s so funny?” He asked her in the most badly innocent tone she ever heard in her life. 

“Well it was good… Needed a better… climax, though,” she said still smirking.

“Ah. You’’re baiting me. I’m afraid I’m just a novice and nowhere the MASTER baiter you are.”

“I trotted right into that one,” Grapes observed with a chuckle. She then stepped close, and kissed his cheek. “Goodnight, silly pony.”

Stormy stared straight ahead a moment before smiling and nodding. His brain didn’t exactly freeze the way hers did on that first kiss but it did pause a moment, enjoying the moment.

“Good night, Grapes. See you for tomorrow’s chores.”

“You too, Stormy. Let’s hope Miss Prissy Tail isn’t too hard on the boy,” Grapes said as she trotted to her house. 
Climbing the stairs, she stopped and noticed a paper bag sitting right on her welcome mat. Knowing all too well some of the rural humor involving paper bags on doorsteps she approached with caution, and using her magic to open the bag and peer within.

“Aw... Shhhhugarcookies.”

Yep. That pretty much summed it all up. She felt like giggling; somehow Stormy planned out the “flight past” Sugarcube Corner and no doubt waggled a cookie under her nose to add to the realism. Really nice of him to give her the rest though.

She sighed, and smiled, taking the cookies inside. As first dates go… It wasn’t half bad.