//------------------------------// // Prologue: Tis Autumn // Story: Cultivating Love (Book 5) // by LotusTeaDragon //------------------------------// Soft petals wafted gently upon the breeze, a glowing, flowing inhibition completely removed from the fleeting hearts that had removed them from their stems as portents of what was to come; the mother garden long passing away into the aether, and perennial moodiness, that was summer. Autumn was making itself known, and it was surely a time of change, and the welcome appearance of the flower petals signaled a clarion call, announcing its imminent arrival. To an outside observer, the soft grace by which those florets floated so freely seemed almost angelic in a sense, as if each petal was waited upon by a winged cherub carrying it aloft. Nothing betrayed that notion of gracefulness, regardless of what must have been, for them, a chaotic and tumultuous test of resiliency, one that seemingly went on and on without end, as they were shoved upward into the altitude, and then dropped, as if by a careless foal, downward toward the unyielding earth below. And so it was a unicorn filly, eggshell blue, sporting a golden mane and tail, who found herself staring at the errant petals with bated breath, watching them jostle and toss about, zigging and zagging upward as they were caught on the updrafts of warm air pockets, only to drift downward after that warmth had fled to other grasses, alighting softly to rest upon a pile of leaves that had been gathered nearby. The filly approached the leaf pile with great care, as not to cause the objects of her curiosity to scurry away before they could be examined thoroughly, and with a critical eye. Using her magic, she quickly removed a magnifying glass, and pair of tweezers from the saddle pack around her waist. With deft, precise movements, she successfully lifted one of the petals with the aforementioned tweezers, and held it up to the magnifying glass, the instrument enlarging the appearance and detail of her own rose colored irises, in the process. For a few moments, nothing was heard as the filly closely examined the bit of flora, save for her light breathing and, if you listened intently, the cogs furiously spinning inside of her young, agile mind. “Mhmm,” she began, speaking softly as not to disturb the sample, “perennial, polypetalous structure, independent of the parianth, white in color, light scent, indicative of insect or avian pollination methods, yellow particulate remaining along the outer edge; ah, Nipponanthemum nipponicum, more commonly known as the Neighpon Daisy.” Reaching back with her hoof, so that she could continue holding the sample and the magnifying glass in her magic, she grabbed her notebook and pencil. With them, she quickly jotted down the relevant information, making a quick sketch of the petal itself. Returning the notebook and pencil to her pack, she removed a small glass tube, intent on gathering up the sample in order to add it to her collection of various leaves and petals. After many years of study and hard work, she had amassed quite the collection, with it taking up several large binders that she kept in her drawer; her treasure trove of botanical data. She had just lifted the sample to the lip of the tube, when she heard an odd noise coming from nearby. She cocked her head to the side, and swiveled an ear in the direction of the offending sound. If she didn’t know any better, it seemed to be some kind of whistling sound, though she was certain the wind hadn’t gained significant enough velocity to create an audible byproduct of its movement. Which could only mean one thing: she quickly glanced at the leaf pile, and put two and two together, but before she could react by jumping out of the way, the leaf pile exploded into a maelstrom of tiny twigs, and vibrant fall foliage. She shielded her eyes, holding on to her black rimmed glasses with her magic, in order to prevent them from flying away from her, letting go of the cylinder, it hitting the ground, and rolling away from view. Once the colorful carnage had settled, she frenetically began looking around for her sample. Pushing aside a clutch of leaves here, a bevy of them there, turned up no sign of her prize. Frustration mounting, she grabbed a nearby pointy stick, and began poking what was left of the leaf pile. “Zephyr Blossom!” she called out, indignation in her small voice. “You come out of there right now!” Poke. Poke. “I know it’s you!” she added, poking the pile for emphasis. A yelp was heard as the stick apparently zeroed in on its intended target. “Ouch! Quit it, Apple Flutter! I’m getting out, I’m getting out!” Apple Flutter stopped her ministrations with the pointy stick, tossing it aside and sitting on her flank, placing her hooves on her hips. This was her traditional pose when she wished to scold her younger sister. True to form, a second later, a golden furred head, with eggshell blue mane, popped up out of the leaf pile, her green eyes filled with scorn. “What’s the big idea of you poking me with a sharp stick?!” “What’s my big idea? What’s your big idea, Zephyr?! You jumped in the leaf pile and now my flower sample is gone!” Zephyr Blossom shrugged. “So what? Who cares about some dumb old flower? Why don’t you come jump in the leaves with me instead of nerding it up on such an awesome day?” Apple Flutter gave her sister a scathing look, and crossed her forelegs. “I’m supposed to be the responsible one. I am the oldest, you know.” Zephyr rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, older by what? Two whole minutes?! Give me a break!” Apple Flutter’s retort was interrupted by an all-too-familiar voice echoing from the other side of the rolling hills of their farm. “Apple Flutter! Zephyr Blossom! Y’all come on back to th’ house now, it’s supper time!” Before she could act, Apple Flutter heard her sister already on the move. “Race ya!” Zephyr shouted as she shot out of the leaf pile, high tailing it for the house. Apple Flutter sputtered as she tried to gather her things together. “That’s not fair! I’m carryin’ my science equipment! You’re cheatin’, Zephyr! I’m tellin’ mom on you and she's gonna swat you good!” Finally getting her botany kit together and stowing it away properly in her pack, she made a bee-line for her sister, determined to catch up before the other sibling could reach the porch, and claim what Apple Flutter would surely consider a tainted victory at best. Still, it being harvest time, and autumn settling in, the activity was welcome. You had to be on your hooves and ready at any moment for the situation to change. There was no time for loitering or languishing, not when it came to the lifeblood of the ponies that had made their home there. Such was the inevitability of life, the harvest, and sisterly competition, that one found on the Apple family farm.