//------------------------------// // Chapter 7: Midsummer // Story: A Gift from Celestia // by Admiral Biscuit //------------------------------// A Gift from Celestia Chapter 7: Midsummer Admiral Biscuit Early summer was just a promise of what would come.  Cloud usage was watched carefully, to prevent a shortage later in the year.  Inspectors gauged the depths of the weather reservoirs all around Equestria to make certain that there would be enough to fill clouds in the fall.  In the air, patrolling around Ponyville was beginning to be unpleasant.  Pegasi could stay above the weather easily enough, but there was no flying above heat.  Ditzy was grateful for her light grey coat; she could only imagine how some of the darker-colored ponies suffered in the heat.  She’d seen McIntosh straining in the field one particularly sunny day, his sides darkened with sweat. Pegasi did have one advantage: one thing their ground-bound cousins couldn’t do was generate a good breeze.  Ditzy let go of the cloud she was pushing and flew straight up, until she was a hundred feet above the cloud.  She held her wings out straight and dropped, slowly transitioning to a more level flight.  When she was about halfway back to where Lightning Bolt was working, she twisted her wings slightly, banking upwards.  She reached the apex of her ascent as she came alongside her mentor, and gently flapped her wings to stay in place, all her speed bled off. Lightning shook her head.  “You’re using more energy than you’re saving.  A straight flight is more efficient.” “Not if there’s thermals to ride,” Ditzy countered.  “Even when there’s not, it’s worth it for the cooling.”  She grabbed another cloud.  “Trust me, I was three-time distance champ at Las Pegasus.” “Marathoning’s not the same as working weather,” Lightning protested. “Endurance is endurance,” Ditzy called back as she whisked another cloud into position.  She was really starting to get the hang of this.  She could tell Lightning was impressed, even if she didn’t really show it much.  I’m gonna be a lead weathermare soon. A sudden twist in her belly made a mockery of her thoughts.  She dropped the cloud and clutched her stomach, willing the nausea to go away.  Deep breaths.  Deep breaths of clean air.  “Ditzy?”  Lightning was hovering right next to her, a concerned look on her face.  “Are you okay?” “Yeah,” she managed through clenched teeth.  “Just give me a moment.  Pulled up too quick last time.  Heat’s getting to me.” “It’s not that hot,” Lightning commented.  “I—why don’t you take your lunch early?  Maybe splash around in the pond, or at least lie on a cloud pile.  I can get the rest of these.” “I'll be okay.” “Ditzy, do it.” Ditzy looked pleadingly at Lightning, but the mare's face was set. She sighed and slumped her head. I don't want to have to leave work early, she thought. I'll never be a weather lead if I can't make a full day's shift in the summer. “Ugh, fine.” She rolled to the edge of the cloud and looked at the ground below, where her lunch was stashed. Maybe Lightning was right; maybe a bit of shade and some water would do the trick. I might be pushing myself too hard—that's what's happening. I can glide down easy enough. She snapped her wings open and flipped off the cloud, already feeling relief as her speed made the air rush past her face. She kept an eye on her target as she came down in a broad arc. Too steep a dive and she'd spend a lot of effort at the bottom losing speed; too shallow and she'd have to make multiple circles. By banking just right, she could lose lots of altitude without picking up excessive speed.  In essence, she was taking what made a good, long glide, and doing the opposite. As she neared the ground, Ditzy flared her wings further, letting the air do most of the braking for her. There was a trick to this—some of the precision fliers were much better then her, but even though it wasn't a terribly useful skill for marathon flying, it came in handy for cloud-to-cloud or cloud-to-ground flights. She didn't quite get her timing right, and had to flap a few times to complete the braking maneuver before she crashed into a tree, but it was close enough. She touched down lightly and trotted to the shade of the tree where she'd stored her lunch. Ditzy glanced up at the sun's position and gritted her teeth. It was not even noon yet. Lightning probably won't want to give me another break, since we've got to get our work done and I'm not up there pulling my weight. Her lunch was unappetizing, but she forced it down anyway, ignoring the feeling of nausea. It was all she was going to get until dinner. She didn't feel like flying into town and getting a pickle—or anything else—from market. Instead, she shoved her empty sandwich wrapper back in her bag and walked to the edge of a reflecting pool and stuck her snout in the water, greedily lapping it up. Then, throwing caution to the wind, she waded into the pond and lay down in the shallow water, stretching her wings out over the surface. It would have been nice to relax them completely, but flying with soaking feathers was a lot of effort. She watched small fish swim over to examine the intruder in their midst; when some of them got too bold, she stuck her mouth in the water and blew a stream of bubbles their direction, causing them to dart away in a silvery flash. Ditzy could have stayed there for the rest of the day, but she knew that she had to get back to work before Lightning came down and dragged her back into the clouds.  If she got a reputation for being lazy, she’d never work her way up the ranks.  Reluctantly, she climbed out of the pool and shook herself off on shore, scraped a particularly clingy strand of seaweed off her leg, and took to the sky again. Once she'd gotten to altitude, Lightning eyed her critically. “You feel any better?” Ditzy nodded eagerly. She didn't, not really, but she wasn't a quitter. “Hmm. All right, we're going to change things up a little bit here. It'll be more efficient if you stay by the shipment and pull them loose, shape them, and then shove them in my direction.” “Are you sure? That sounds like a lot of extra work for you,” Ditzy protested. “You need practice shaping clouds,” Lightning said gruffly. “We both know that.” “I should be in the sky.” “Look,” Lightning said. “I . . . uh, we both know you can fly pretty good. But I've got to teach you everything about cloudmaking, and that includes shaping them. You still haven't got that down right.” Well, it won't be so bad to be by the cloud pile all day, she thought. “Okay.” •        •        • The next couple of hours passed in a blur. At first, Ditzy was slowing Lightning down as she fumbled with the clouds, but by the time Lightning called a break, she was getting the knack of it. While her mentor went off for lunch, Ditzy laid back on the pile of starter cloud, pounding out a small hollow with her wings. She cocked her head back and closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her belly while the clouds cooled her back. She would have sworn that she hadn’t dozed  off, but the next thing she knew, Lightning was poking her in the ribs. “Come on, kid, time to get back at it.” Ditzy groaned and tumbled out of her little nest, fluttering her wings to get the circulation back. She nodded and returned to the open air, then grabbed another piece and began shaping it, doubling over as another cramp hit her. •        •        • Amazingly, they finished their sector on time. Ditzy looked over at Lightning's sweat-soaked barrel and felt a twinge of guilt. I hardly did any work. Stupid cramps. For the hundredth time, she wondered if it was something she'd eaten, but she'd had the same breakfast as usual. “You want me to fly home with you?” Ditzy looked at Lightning in surprise. The mare had never made that offer before. “No, I'll be okay.” “You sure?” Lightning looked at her with an unusually concerned look. “I mean, you've got a cloudhouse, right?” “I can get home on my own,” Ditzy insisted. “I promise.” “Get a good night's sleep and drink lots of fluids,” Lightning instructed.  “Maybe take a hot bath.” “Thanks, Mom.” Ditzy stuck her tongue out and twisted toward Ponyville. Her parting shot would have been perfect if she hadn't been seized by another cramp just as she needed to be leveling off, and she faltered before finding an unsteady new course. As a result, her descent came up short, even with finding a friendly thermal over a field of rye. As soon as it became obvious she wasn't going to clear the ridge between herself and Ponyville, she turned to the road, keeping her glide as long as she could before she had to slow herself and land, then walk her way to the top of the ridge before she took flight again. Her wings were drooping as she made her way into town and trotted into the market. She could smell the enticing aromas of Sugarcube Corner, and was already licking her lips at the thought of a nice chocolate malt, when she remembered that her saddlebags—and her bits—were still hanging out where they'd been working. Ditzy groaned, and shifted on her hooves in indecision. Should I go back and get them, or just pick them up tomorrow morning? I can ask one of the girls to loan me some money—I'm sure they will. I hate to beg, though. Maybe I can run a tab with Ms. Cake. I come in there all the time; surely she'll let me. She turned to look back the way she'd come. It wouldn't take that long to go back and get my bag, though. Or, I could— “Earth to Ditzy.” She turned to find herself muzzle-to-muzzle with Berry Punch, who had a huge grin on her face. “Wow, Ditz, you had your heads way up in the clouds. I've been calling out your name for, like, a couple of minutes. You coming to Sugarcube Corner?” “Yeah.” Ditzy looked down at the sling around Berry's neck. “Is that—“ “Pinchy. Figured it was time to get her out of the house.” She proudly pulled the blanket back, revealing her foal. “Let her meet up with the rest of the girls, all in one place, you know. Plus, I've got something special for us in my saddlebag, but I can't tell you what it is until later.” Ditzy didn't pay her any mind; instead she leaned toward the infant, which regarded her with unblinking blue eyes. “Aww, who's a cute little filly?” Berry Pinch responded by latching onto her nose. Her ears jerked up as she heard Lightning mutter, "Cute kid." She pulled herself free from Berry Pinch's grasp and turned to face her mentor. “Lightning?  What are you doing here?” “You forgot your saddlebags. I was headed this way, so I figured I ought to bring them to you.” She tossed them over to Ditzy before turning her attention back to Berry. “How old is she?” “Almost three moons,” Berry said proudly. “Pinch was born on the second day of Winter Wrap-Up. She's already crawling around the house.” “She's adorable,” Lightning said, tickling the foal with a wingtip. Pinch latched onto it and began suckling. “Aww, look at that.” Ditzy looked at the pair in wonder. She'd never thought of Lighting as having a sentimental side, but she'd been nice to her all day long, and now she was playing with a stranger's foal. It was almost as if she'd been replaced with some complete stranger disguised as Lightning. “Take care of your beautiful daughter, Berry. See you later, Ditz.” Lightning trotted off towards the market, an extra spring in her step. Ditzy turned back to Berry, who was tugging her mane out of Pinchy's grasp. “She seemed nice.” Berry tucked the blanket back around her daughter. “You said she was a bitch.” “I guess not all the time,” Ditzy replied. “Weird.” “C’mon, the girls'll be waiting.” Berry began heading for the bakery, Ditzy in tow. •        •        • Cherry Berry and Golden Harvest were already there, and a huge tray of cupcakes was set out on the table in front of them. “Hungry?” Ditzy asked, looking at the pair. “They're celebration cupcakes,” Cherry Berry explained. “Cause I'm gonna be a big sister,” Golden Harvest announced proudly. “Mom's having another foal!” “I brought a bottle for us to celebrate with,” Berry said. She grabbed it out of her saddlebags and set it on the table, then began unwrapping her daughter from her sling. “Ditz, can you slide over? Pinchy's hungry.” “Sure.” Ditzy made some room, and Berry stretched out on the bench. “Does she know what kind it is yet?” Berry finished her positioning and gently lifted her daughter towards her hind legs. “Earth pony, natch. Filly.” Golden Harvest opened the bottle and began to pour out glasses. “Doctor did the tests.” “There's a test?” Ditzy looked at her in confusion. “Yeah. Berry, is it okay for you to drink?” Golden Harvest whispered. “I'm not pregnant any more,” she said. “So yes.” “But . . . your milk. That can't be good for a baby.” She waved a hoof dismissively. “It's fine. The alcohol's like, filtered out by my kidneys or something before it gets to my nipples.” “Wouldn't want a foal to drop out of the clouds.” Cherry explained, making a wobbly flailing motion with her forehooves. “That's why there's a test. It's be a pretty lousy spring if foals were splatting to the ground.” “You're one to talk—you're building your crazy balloon. One day it's going to be you falling out of the sky and going splat,” Berry replied. “What happens if you get the wrong kind of foal?” Golden Harvest shook her head. “There is no 'wrong' kind of foal, Ditz. Haven't you ever seen the Hearth's Warming Eve pageant?” “Yeah,” Berry added. “You've been listening to your Mom too much.” “So when's the foal due?” Cherry leaned across the table. “Do you know?” “Uh . . . around late spring, probably. They started trying—“ her face reddened and she took another drink— “after we got our first carrots planted, you know?” “You wanna plant the seed at the right time so you can harvest it—“ “Thank you for that, Berryshine. Honestly.  Like you and Cormano were thinking about timing.” Cherry punched her lightly on the withers. “That's probably going to put your mom out of commission next year, unless the foal comes early.” “Dad says Mom's pretty regular,” Golden said. “I can't believe we're having this conversation. Anyways, when she missed her second cycle, they were sure, so they went to the doctors—if that hadn't been enough of a sign, she's had morning sickness the past seven days.” “My aunt had it terrible,” Cherry replied. “Just one morning, boom, there it was. Six weeks straight, and then it was gone, just like that. She got kind of mean, too. Especially towards the end, you know, before the foal was due. Bit my uncle a couple of times.” “I started eating weird stuff.  Like, really salty stuff.”  Berry reached a hoof down and absently ran it through Pinch’s mane.  “And I got hornier, but since I was pregnant, I had to let Cormano—” Ditzy shoved a cupcake in Berry’s mouth.  “Nopony wants to know what you and Cormano do.” “I bet that took care of some of the salt craving,” Cherry muttered under her breath. "No, he—" “Supposedly, Mom gets cuddly, too.” Golden Harvest said loudly, and made a face. “I hope Dad's lying. Ugh, I don't want to have to deal with that, especially when we're cooped up in the same house.” She leaned back in her chair. “Hey, Carrot, get your scrawny flanks over here.” “What's up, sis?” “Did Mom get all cuddly before I was born?” He rolled his eyes. “You called me over here for that?  I should be working.  And is that wine?  Does Mom know—” Golden Harvest rolled her eyes.  “I’m a big pony; I can drink with my friends if I want to.” “Sis?” Ditzy looked at them in amazement. “You didn't know Carrot was Goldie's big brother?” Berry grinned, then winced. “Fuck! Don't bite Mama, Pinchy.” Ditzy waited until Carrot had gone back to the counter before regarding Golden Harvest. “How come you don't have the same name?” “If we had the same name, how would anypony call for us?” “No, I mean—“ “She means how come you don't have a family name, like me or her,” Cherry said. “What's the point? Everypony in town knows we're related.” “I didn't,” Ditzy admitted. “How did you get your name anyhow?” “Cause I was born in the barn,” she said. “Right after Mom got done tending the fields, or so she says. Dad was pulling the wagon, and she was following along with Carrot. Went to the barn to unload, and Mom couldn’t make it back to the house, and there I was.  There’s a picture in the barn where I was born—Carrot thought he was going to get his cutie mark as a photographer back then, and took a picture right afterward.” “Who wants to play with a foal?” Berry looked around the table. “Come on, Goldie, it'll be good practice for having a little sister.” Berry lifted her daughter up onto the table, keeping her hooves around Pinch so that she couldn't scramble away.  Everypony chuckled as Pinch made for a cupcake, then stumbled and fell face-first onto the platter.  While her tongue was licking frosting off her muzzle, Cherry helpfully wiped down her cheeks. Ditzy trotted out of Sugarcube Corner, a happy warm feeling in her belly that almost made her forget about the earlier part of her day. Summer was the best time of the year; the days were long and ponies stayed out in the street longer. She'd excused herself when some more of Golden Harvest's friends had stopped by, including a few who she had no particular interest in dealing with—Blue Bonnet in particular. After her first day at school, they'd had numerous other scuffles which never quite served to establish dominance. Cherry left with her—the earth pony didn't like Blue Bonnet either. They walked together to the park, and sat down on a bench, where they could listen to a unicorn who was playing a lyre. Ditzy had seen her around town before, usually in the company of an off-white earth pony. The unicorn didn't pay them any attention; her eyes were closed as she leaned back on the bench in what looked to be a very awkward position, her hooves gently brushing over the strings. “How come she doesn't play that with her magic?” Ditzy asked. “It doesn't sound right,” Cherry told her. “I dunno why, but most ponies learn to play musical instruments with their hooves. Somepony told me once—maybe it was Lyra—about how their field interferes with the music, unless they're playing an instrument especially designed for a unicorn.” “Ah.” Ditzy focused her attention back on the unicorn. She'd never learned how to play an instrument. Sometimes she wished she had. It would be nice to relax in the park and just make beautiful music for everypony to enjoy. “Is it true that there isn't going to be any rain for the next week?” “Yeah. I don't mind. Working with rainclouds sucks.” Cherry sighed. “I guess I'm going to have to irrigate my saplings by hoof. How come you can't bring enough water to prevent that?” “Cloudsdale's short again. Last tornado duty didn't get enough water up to them, and they're rationing it for later in the year. We need bigger reservoirs, and larger teams of pegasi to get the water up, but there aren't enough around here. My Mom complains about that all the time. We do the best we can, but it's hard. This isn't a popular post for pegasi, but it's still better than Appleoosa or Dodge Junction.” “It's still frustrating,” Cherry admitted. “Oh well, what can you do? Just—if you have some extra rainclouds, maybe push one over my grove?” Cherry slid off the bench. “I've got to go—I'll have to get up early and water my saplings before it gets too hot. I'll see you tomorrow.” •        •        • After Cherry left, Ditzy sat a while longer, listening to the music, before she finally got off the bench. A brief cramp in her belly caused her to wince, but it passed quickly and she began walking through town, waving a hoof at the ponies she knew. When she was abreast of the library, she saw that it was open. Although she wasn't normally one for reading, it occurred to her that there might be a book that would give her an idea why she felt sick. Of course, she didn't know where to look. She stood in the main room of the library, surrounded by bookshelves, and felt just as intimidated as when Pencils gave them research assignments. “Can I help you find something?” Mayor Mare appeared behind her shoulder. “I'm . . . um, I'm looking for a book about . . . well, I've got cramps from overworking myself. That's never happened before, and I was wondering if I was sick with something, or if it's just the heat.” Her ears flattened—would the mayor blab to everypony that she was sick? “Oh. Where are they? In your legs, or your wings?” “In my belly.” Ditzy pointed with a hoof. “I've never had them before.” “How long ago did you get your cutie mark?” “Last fall. Why?” The mayor brightened. “I've got just the book for you. I get a lot of call for it each spring.” She trotted over to a bookcase and pulled a thin book off the shelf, where it had been arranged with several other identical books. “I'm sure that a lot of stuff in here you already learned, but it's a good reference for young mares who don't want to discuss those things with their parents.” She carried it over to the checkout desk and opened the front cover, stamped a card and slid it into a pocket on the flyleaf. Then she put on a pair of half-glasses and wrote a note in the library ledger. “It's due back in two weeks; if you want to keep it longer, you'll have to renew it. If the library isn't open, you can put the book in the mailbox, or you can leave a note that you want to keep it longer.” She slid the book over the counter. “Oh, and try some mint tea. It helps with the cramps.” “Thanks!” Ditzy tucked it into her saddlebags, and headed out the door. Once back in the park, she found a spot under a gaslight and pulled the book out. “'A Mare's Body,'” she read. She skimmed through the first few chapters, her face red. It was almost indecent to be reading about a mare's sexual organs in public, she thought, and she occasionally looked up guiltily to make sure that nopony was near enough to see just what book she had. Once she got to the section on estrus, though, her eyes were glued to the page. From her class she'd had a vague notion about puberty, but the teacher had glossed it over, only explaining in the broadest terms what the book took pages to explain in detail. Maybe I'm in my first off-cycle, she thought, thinking back to the week before. I might not have felt the . . . desire, because I wasn't feeling good. She almost stopped reading at the end of the chapter, but the book was very well written, and it was full of helpful information. She'd found a particularly comfortable position on the bench and didn't feel up to flying home, and on top of that, an impromptu trio had begun playing folk songs across the park. She could finish the book, return it to the library tonight so she wouldn't have to worry about losing it or having her mother find it, and then fly home. She flipped ahead to the chapter about pregnancy, briefly considered skipping it, and then thought it might be worth knowing what Golden Harvest's mom was going to be going through, and what Berry already had. At least I finished work yesterday.  That counts for something, right?  Ditzy was lying on the shower floor, letting the lukewarm cloudwater rain on her back and outstretched wings.  She’d already been sick, so that was out of the way.  By now it was routine—wake up, vomit, pee, vomit again, and then dry heaves while taking a shower.  If what Cherry had said was right, she’d be done with that bit of unpleasantness in about a week, by her best reckoning.  The sudden addition of fever and chills had been an unpleasant surprise—was that because she was coming down with something, or was it just because of . . . that?  She didn’t know. She reluctantly reached up and bucked the shower-cloud.  She shook herself off and walked out on the balcony to preen.  The sunlight would dry her off while she cared for her wings. Ten minutes later, she finally made her way downstairs.  “Morning, Papa.” “Tha doesn't have ta go ta work today,” he said. “That’s good.  I—what?” “Lightnin' came by while tha was in t'shower. Said there's nowt on t'schedule.”  He looked up at her.  “Said tha ought t'rest. Told me tha cramped up while handlin' clouds.” “It was just the heat,” Ditzy protested.  “That’s all.  I rested for a few minutes, and I was okay after that.  Worked for the rest of the shift.”  What appetite she’d had when she came down for breakfast had disappeared completely.  “That happened sometimes at Las Pegasus during racing season, too.  Remember?” “Aye.”  He got up and put his cup in the sink.  “But tha wasn't sick every morn for weeks on end. Might be sommat here that wasn't in Las Pegasus, and tha might've caught it. We're goin' ta t'nurse.” Ditzy froze.  “The . . . nurse?” “Tha needs ta be in good fettle,” he said bluntly.  “Won't be so bad. Tha had ta do it for racin' season, tha knows.” “But—but that was for sports.  And it was a pegasus doctor!  They don’t have any pegasus doctors in Ponyville.  We’re going to Cloudsdale next week; I could just go see the plant doctor then.” “Is tha?” “Me and Lightning, yeah.  To . . . to look at clouds, and stuff.  At the factory.” “Nay.”  He put on his hat.  “Not waitin' a week. We'll go now. Never thought tha'd share Mother's opinions—a nurse is a nurse. She c'n diagnose any equine.” “But—” “Tha's goin'. End of discussion. Tha gonna fly, or am I gonna drag tha?” Ditzy glanced over at the window.  I can fly faster and further than he can.  If I get a head start, he won’t be able to catch me.  Then I can just lay low until . . . until . . . until what?  Reluctantly, she walked over to the door, heart pounding in her chest.  Maybe the doctor won’t notice.  Maybe she won’t tell.