//------------------------------// // Chapter 22 // Story: Reflected Reflections // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// “Chert’s fingers are becoming increasingly useful.” Sunrise Surprise nodded at Fogwalker and watched as Chert secured the makeshift harness around Garlic. Sunrise, feeling good about herself, had repaired the wagon. The roof, now mended, did not leak. The wheel, now in one piece, seemed sturdy enough to do its job. Life was already easier because they did not have to wear heavy packs or saddlebags, but Sunrise did feel a lingering sense of concern over having Garlic hauling the entire load. Feeling warm sun upon her back, Sunrise spread her wings and allowed the sun’s golden warmth to seep into her joints. “You need to spend more time preening your feathers,” Fogwalker said, taking note of the general state of disarray. “I’m still learning.” Sunrise looked at her friend, knowing that Fogwalker meant no harm, but still felt hurt anyway. “It isn’t something you can hurry through… your feathers are clumped, which means you are taking in several at a time to rush through the job rather than one at a time—” “But one at a time takes forever!” “Maybe so, but that is just how it is. You get used to it.” Fogwalker gave Sunrise an encouraging nudge. “You were born with wings… I wasn’t—” Sunrise stopped and pressed her lips together into a flat line as she self corrected. “Okay, I was born with wings, but I didn’t grow up with wings. It takes forever to keep these annoying things cleaned and preened and looking tidy.” “The trick is, keep them clean and tidy to begin with and then do touch up as needed. Stay on top of stray feathers. If you see one, tidy it up right away. If one feather is out of sorts, it tends to make others around it messy. They all rub wrong if one is out of place.” Sunrise Surprise scowled. “I don’t see why you can’t do more to help me.” “Sunrise, I told you… preening is… preening is something intimate between pegasi. You preen your own wings once you are old enough. As adults, it is something that couples do. It would be very awkward to help you. Because you grew up as a unicorn, you just see it as grooming. I was raised with a very different standard. I’m sorry. I’ve helped you and it just feels really weird. And wrong.” “It isn’t fair. You’re pretty, you have perfect wings, and you have a pony that loves you.” Sunrise turned away from her friend and settled into a sulk. “I’m fat, I’m ugly, and with the way my wings look, nopony will ever look at me the way that Garlic looks at you.” Fogwalker took a deep breath, held it in her puffed out cheeks, and there was a faint flatulent sound as air leaked out of her pressed tight together lips. It wasn’t much as far as coping mechanisms go, but it had gotten Fogwalker through life so far. “Even when you make faces like that you’re still pretty. Garlic would still want you even if your face stayed that way.” Sunrise blinked behind her glasses, saw the world was becoming blurry because of tears, and realised her morning was ruined. Saying nothing else, she took off, climbing up into the wagon, and closed the door behind her. “I wish I knew what to say to make her feel better,” Fogwalker said as she looked at the wagon. Her eyes moved towards Garlic. “You don’t mind pulling one pouty alicorn princess along with the rest of the load, do you?” “No.” “That’s what I thought. We should get moving. Thank you, Chert, for being so helpful with those wiggly little fingers of yours. It was nice not wearing my armor to bed.” Fogwalker smiled at both Garlic and Chert. Chert, silent, said nothing, but nodded his head. He moved, his hooves making little sound as he took off, and he took his bow in hand as he began to scout ahead. Fogwalker watched the centaur go. Grunting, Garlic leaned into the harness, there was a creak of wood, the jangle of a chain, and the wagon began to move. In no time at all, the strong earth pony had the wagon on the road and was pulling it along muddy ruts with surprising speed. “Mmm, mmm, mmm, what a pony!” Fogwalker said as she watched her husband pull the wagon with what seemed like effortless ease. Her armor clanked and jangled as she took off after Garlic and the wagon, bringing up the rear and guarding Garlic’s blind spot. Chert kept to the middle of the muddy road, the high place between the ruts. Around him, the forest was cool, damp, the smell of rain lingered in the air and Chert was glad to breath it into his lungs. Knowing it was dangerous not to keep his bow ready, Chert continued to his work, pulling nuts off of a downed tree branch he had picked up in the road. He dropped the nuts into his saddlebag, not knowing what they were, but knowing that they were food. He moved with an easy grace, his eyes darting everywhere that there was a sound, and Chert remained alert to any indication of danger. When the last nut was stripped off of the branch, Chert dropped the branch and took his bow in hand once more. There was a wooden sign on the side of the road, faded, a faint hint of pink was still visible. Chert paused to look at the sign, which at one point must have been quite a sight. “Princess Cadance’s Carnal Castle,” Garlic said as he approached, reading the sign. He snorted. “Who is Princess Cadance?” Chert asked. “The alicorn of lust. She ran a brothel from what I heard. Not much of a castle at all. Celestia and Luna chased her off after their reformation,” Garlic replied. “Is she dangerous?” Chert asked. Garlic nodded. “Lust isn’t like love at all. At its very worst, it cannot be satisfied. Indulging in it only makes it worse… A stallion or a mare would pine away for even more of Cadance’s perfect sex… she’d bleed them of their money, their valuables, and when they had nothing left, she would leave them broken and begging for more.” “How do you know about her?” Chert asked. “One day, out of the blue, my granmare, Pearl Onion Pie, my aunt, Sweet Onion Pie, and my mother, Red Onion Pie, they ambushed me. Started slapping me around and giving me a good talking to. Told me that they’d kill me if I ever so much thought about going off to pay Cadance a visit. Left some lumps on my head and gave me some wise words of wisdom.” “Lumps?” Chert looked up at the tall gangly earth pony. “Sometimes, love is a hug… or a kiss… or maybe even a pie. At other times, love is a lump on your skull… I remember every word said in warning about Cadance and her foul magic because I remember the lumps. They hurt.” “Hmm.” Reaching up, Chert scratched his neck with his free hand. “We should get moving,” Garlic said, offering up a suggestion about what to do. Saying nothing else, Chert cast one final glance at the faded sign, sighed, and then took off down the road, his bow in hand and his eyes opened to danger. “How is your back? Your wounds?” Sunrise trotted in the mud beside Garlic, her hooves making squishing sounds with every step. “Fine.” Garlic paid the dull pain in his chest and his withers very little attention. Sunrise avoided a big flooded mud puddle of water that filled up a deep rut in the road. Sidestepping it, she stilled cringed when she saw how much mud was already on her legs. Looking at Garlic, she saw that he was caked with mud up to his hocks. “Foggy says we are making good time, even with the wagon. The mud and the wagon has slowed us down though, she thinks it will be two days to reach our destination instead of just one,” Sunrise said, trying to start up some sort of conversation. “No matter. We’ll get there when we get there.” Garlic, who enjoyed pulling the wagon, didn’t mind the idea that it might take a little longer. Much to her embarrassment, Sunrise felt herself becoming winded. Trotting though the mud was different than trotting over dry ground. Each step took effort. Climbing back into the wagon was now a bad idea, as she would track mud everywhere inside. Realising that conversation just wasn’t going to happen, that each step was going to get harder and harder as more and more fatigue set in, and that she was now stuck slogging through the mud, Sunrise dropped her head down and focused on moving forward. Looking back at her self, she realised that mud had spattered her wings. Wings that she had to preen. With her mouth. Her barrel hitching, Sunrise tried to hold back her tears and failed. Crying wasn’t making breathing any easier. Unable to see where she was stepping, her hoof slipped and she almost fell down into the mud, regaining her balance at the last horrible second when she was certain she was about to get a mudbath. “You’re not having a good day.” So startled that she almost stumbled again, Sunrise struggled to stay up on her hooves. “No I’m not.” Leaning into the harness, Garlic had to give a little extra effort to pull the wagon though a thicker, clingier patch of mud. “Chert looks out of sorts too. If you want to feel better, you should talk to him.” “Why would that make me feel better?” Sunrise asked. “If you make him feel better, you might feel better,” Garlic replied. “Really?” Sunrise blinked away her tears and looked up at Garlic. “I dunno… it might help you out, Sunny.” “If I’m Sunny, you’re Stinky, and Fogwalker is Foggy, what is Chert?” Sunrise asked. “Fingers.” “Fingers?” “Yes. Fingers.” “Chert is Fingers?” “Yes.” “Okay.” Sunrise turned her head and looked at the road ahead of her. Chert was up front. Peering, squinting her eyes, Sunrise noticed that the centaur had very little mud on him at all. “How does he do that?” “Do what?” Garlic asked. Sunrise blinked, trying to see if her eyes were playing tricks on her. “There is hardly any mud on him at all.” “He’s just careful, that’s all.” Garlic allowed himself to enjoy a smooth section of pulling where the wagon seemed to slice though the mud with no real effort. “When the road was dry and we were walking and talking and having a nice time, the adventure seemed nice… but now, we’re stuck in the mud, there doesn’t seem to be much talking because we are spaced out, and this adventure has become a boring march.” Sunrise stepped into what she thought was just a little bit of mud and sunk in up past her hocks. “Oh… oh… oh… oh dung!” She struggled to pull her front legs out, the mud slurped around her hooves, and even more tears threatened to fall. “Princess Potty Mouth—” “I sunk down in the mud!” Sunrise couldn’t believe that Garlic was teasing her now of all times, even when he knew that she was having a bad day. “They should make you the Virtue of Vulgarity—” “Stinky, I’ve had about enough of your comments!” “The Monarch of Mud, the Princess of Puddles.” “Oh that’s it, I’ve had just about enough of your teasing! What has gotten into you?” Yanking a hoof free, Sunrise shook it at Garlic, slinging mud at him, spattering his sides with frothy brown muck. “Do you feel better?” Garlic asked. Sunrise, still struggling to get her other hoof free, took a moment to think about Garlic’s words. I do feel better, she thought to herself. Flinging the mud had been cathartic. “I don’t mind the mud. Just a bit of dirt and water. The whole world is made of it.” Garlic plodded onwards, unconcerned about the mud now spattered along his side. “Stinky… I hope you don’t mind, but I think I’m going to go and talk with Chert,” Sunrise said, a smile breaking on her face like sunlight shining through the clouds. “Maybe get a little mud on him. Ain’t natural how he stays so clean…”