8th of Slate, 222
Having found her shawl, and a necklace and some bracelets to boot, Tunda strides over from her farm plot to the lodge. She hoofs open the door to the simple wooden-structure, and looks on everypony and griffon inside with a contented smile. She greets them all, and then sees a particular pony she’s pleased to perceive. The mare trots over and takes a seat nearby the nightwinged stallion. “Ah, Silver Rush, just the one I’d hoped to catch. How are things in the mine, my friend? Any stone in our stash? Gems to vend?”
The black-haired pony turns away from his reading, “Huh? Oh, Ms. Tunda! Hello there!” His initial happiness trails off a bit as his eyes list towards his left, “Oh yeah, the mine. I don’t even know if you could call it a mine yet. It’s more of a sizeable hole dug into wet dirt, if you ask me. I haven’t hit any bedrock yet. No veins. So far I’ve turned up empty-hoofed.”
"Oh don't fret, flying pony,” Tunda reassures the stallion. "It's been but a few weeks only."
He nods in response, “Of course. I’m not overly concerned. There’s always stone if you dig deep enough. Though I have to admit that the mine I worked at prior to my coming here was carved into the side of a mesa. Not quite the same as the set-up we’ve got in Shadytrails right now. Still, I’d like to think that I learned a thing or two of value during those three years.” Silver closes the book, “I take it that you’ve had some success with crafting farming plots? What all have you got planted?”
The shades-of-chocolate zebra nods back. “I’ve planted alfalfa, millet, and strawberries as well. In fact, I’d say my plot is looking swell,” Tunda says, letting her serene smile shift into an amused grin.
Silver almost giggles at the obvious pun, but manages to retain hold on his manners. “All of that sounds pretty good. Particularly those strawberries. I have a preference for the citrus variety of fruit myself, but I’m not picky. I’ll eat almost anything that grows in the ground, especially after a hard day straining my neck in that clay pit,” he looks off in the direction of the young mine-to-be, despite the walls blocking his view. “So how long have you been in the farming business, if you don’t mind my asking, Ms. Tunda?”
“Simply calling me Tunda is fine. You’ll find that I don’t mind.” She waves a hoof in a permissive gesture. “Now as for how long I’ve tended the land, well I find wherever I go, there’s a demand. My family started to teach me when I was only a filly, but to think I’d been doing it continuously would be silly. I’ve had many jobs and things to do, but find a town always welcomes farmers, especially when it’s new.”
“Very well then, Tunda,” he agrees with a chuckle, leaning over to support his head with a hoof as he becomes more engaged in the conversation, “I’d say your judgment is spot on: an army can’t march on an empty stomach, as the old saying goes. We’re definitely going to need a mature source of food when this rinky dinky settlement becomes a full-blown town. Do you foresee any difficulties with that, in your expert opinion?”
The mare with the braided mane doesn’t dispute his compliment. “Firstly, we’re still subject to winter cold. Another run of bad weather could lay low our sprouts before they get too old. And if we did run out of food in a place so isolated, any help would be...belated. But I wouldn’t worry about any of that,” she gives a reassuring smile. “After the harvest, there will be enough to keep us all nice and fat.”
“Right, it’s far too soon to worry about such things. I have confidence that the bunch of us will find a way to make all of this work out.” He taps a hoof on the floor, “So, when you’re not out there tending to vegetables, what do you like doing with your spare time? Got any hobbies?”
"Most of them involve another pony or zebra but me. I enjoy telling stories, poems, and news, even for free." Tunda shifts in her seat to be more comfortable. "Besides that, there's not very much. What do you do when you aren't mining and such?"
“Sounds like we’ll get along just fine then. I’m always an attentive listener,” Silver answers as he points to his fluff-tipped ears, “As for me? I’ve got a few things I occupy my spare time with. For one, I’m building a rock and mineral collection. I’m at twenty-one specimens thus far. Oh, I also like anything to do with mysteries, the paranormal, that sort of thing.” He taps on the book he had been reading prior, “I write down local legends, hauntings and other weirdness I hear about in here. The western half of my home town, Hackamore Basin, is said to be a ghost town in both senses of the phrase!”
The slate-colored pony squints and eyes the ceiling for a moment before another thing hits him, “Oh yeah! Funny you should mention poetry, since I also like to write songs and sing. Well, I guess that’s sort of like poetry.”
Tunda sits up further, managing to look even more interested in the bat-stallion. "It definitely is, in my account. What sort of things do you sing about?”
“Well, the newest one I’m working on is actually about our new establishment. I haven’t gotten too far with it yet, since nothing of much interest has happened. I am always looking for inspiration, though. Seeing how others would describe their lives here would definitely help developing the lyrics.”
“There isn’t much to say as of yet. As the town grows however, I can see how chaotic things might get. I’ll relish the time now while things are simple and clear, but I’ll look forward to new friends coming here,” Tunda answers after a few moments of thought.
The conversation is cut short by the ringing of the dinner bell, followed by a shout from Shortstack indicating that lunch had been completed.
“Well, speaking of relish…” Silver laughs. He stands up to face the origin of delicious aromas, but turns back to face his new, striped friend, “Why don’t we grab a bite? I’d like to hear more about your talent with the written word. Maybe we can toss some ideas around?”
Standing as well, Tunda smiles. “That sounds like a lovely way to spend a meal. Tell me about your haunted town as well, and we have a deal.”