//------------------------------// // Chapter IX: Things Don't Fix Themselves // Story: Linkin Pony Recharge: Chasing the Sun // by Kaciekk //------------------------------// The earthquake had stirred the ponies of the camp. It was not a large one as my father told me, but it still caused a commotion. Ponies rushed around making sure their loved ones were okay. SweetHooves ran up to JumpingJolt, putting her hooves on his cheeks as she asked over and over again if he was okay. Jolt kept saying “Mom, Mom, I’m okay.” They both continued that for a minute or two. Then SweetHooves did the same to me, being like my second mother. I now shadowed Dad, observing how he coped with this event. There were a few things in the camp that were knocked over, but no significant damage. My father looked to clean up. I could make him happy by helping. “How’s the energy mill,” I asked Dad, remembering the last thing SpinningNote said. “It’s fine,” Dad told, “There was well that was off balance, but we fixed it.” “What hap-” I stopped. Dad raised a brow. “‘What’ what?” That sounded funny. “N-nothing. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t ask so many questions.” “No, no, go ahead!” Dad insisted. “Asking questions is how you learn.” He motioned his blue hoof. I paused. “What happens when a well becomes unbalanced?” Dad straightened up. “That’s not a stupid question.” He reassured me, confidence in his voice. “If a well becomes unbalanced we could lose energy. And it’s dangerous. If energy is not controlled, it can hurt someone who comes near it. An unstable well could set off other wells, and things would go boom.” He waved his hoof outward. “Hmm.” I frowned, not liking that idea. Dad studied me for a second, and then he carried on, my hoof steps sequencing his. When he stopped, he took in a deep breath, yet exhaled quite silently.From my angle, I could barely see brown eyes swerving around, scanning the damage. A few crates scattered the area, some broken, one empty. “What’s-” I corrected myself, “What are these?” “Supplies,” Dad said, “Like tools and stuff. Things we can keep away.” His magic lifted up a side of broken wood, revealing an object that look like one we used in the gardening tent. Dad gave a questioning glance at the empty crate. “It must have fallen from the top,” He concluded. The stallion turned to me. “Can you help me collect the tools and put the crates back up?” I nodded. My attention glued to the ground, I scavenged for lost tools. A long green figure was unraveled about the dirt. I picked the hose up in my mouth, the dirt tasting dry (one of the reasons why I seriously need magic). Pulling my head up and walking, I felt the hose tug behind me. I glanced to observe the object unraveling even more, the other end staying in place. I grumbled behind the grasp of my teeth. “Here, let me get that.” A blue aura spread from the hose’s tip in my mouth to all the way to the opposite end. It telekinetically rolled up and hovered to my father. I felt a pinch of jealousy. Dad adjusted the hose and placed it at the bottom of the empty crate. I continued the task. I found a green watering can that was a few shades brighter than the hose. Grasping it, I was satisfied that I could actually lift this one, and with my hoof for that matter. I brought it to my father. “This must have been gardening supplies,” Dad remarked while depositing the watering can in the crate. “I bet there are some shovels and hoes and stuff.” His eyes wandered, yet I knew he left this job to me. I went back to the place I found the other objects. Unexpectedly, something metal pressed into my underhoof. Whinnying, I whipped my hoof up as a cultivator flung a few feet in front of me. Bringing my foreleg up, I watched the soft part of my hoof turn red from a dent. My vision becoming misty, I put my hoof to my mouth as pain shot through my nerves. Dad trotted up next to me. “What’s wrong?” He asked with concern. “Let me see.” I presented my hoof to him. He held and examined it. He smirked a bit. “Oh this is nothing.” But that didn’t make me feel better. “It’s not bleeding badly. You’ll be fine.” My hoof felt like the cultivator was still being jabbed into it, ever so deeper. I looked at my wound again. “Are you sure, Dad? It looks bad.” He lowered his head. “I’ve had worse.” Glancing at his right leg, I think he expected me to look at it. I tried to ignore the pain as I watched Dad gather a few more tools and set them into the crate. As he shut the container he said, “If you find more, let me know.” He levitated the box over two more and set it there. When he walked away, I noticed the crate was not completely aligned. It was over the edge slightly. I am not OCD, but I want to help make things better. Maybe I could use my magic for this. Yeah! It’s only a little shove right? So I positioned myself on the right side of the crates. I concentrated on the top one, my head tilting. All the pain in my hoof completely vanished as my head and shoulders scrunched up. I attempted to peel open my eyes, but it was difficult. Magic is a strange phenomenon. It was if I could feel the crate with my mind and soul. I felt no temperature, no texture, but yet a surface. My magic wasn’t strong enough push the wooden object in the right direction. It let go, and in a split second I attempted to regain control, only making my magic spasm. The crate tipped over with gravity and brought the other crates below with it. My body froze as the containers clattered on the ground, the contents spilling. “GentleSketch!” My father yelled. Fear pounded in my veins. The stallion stood tall in front of me abruptly. I could not breath. “What did you do?” “I-I,” Panicking, I sought the right words. “ The-the crate wasn’t straight. I-I”... I have a problem with stuttering when under pressure. “I wanted to fix it. Bu-but, m-my magic-wa-was,” It wasn’t strong enough. “You know you don’t have strong magic,” Dad said firmly. He did not raise his voice and his posture was poised. He breathed as calmly as possible. Dad’s brow barely tightened, his mouth was straight. My father was not one to show anger, it took a lot to break. This occasion was not enough to make his break but I knew he wasn’t happy. “D-Dad. I wanted to help. I… I wanted to see if I could try with m-my mag-” “No,” Dad interrupted. “GentleSketch, you knew you couldn’t do that. If you can use magic, use it, if not, don’t use it at all." A thorn pierced into my chest and trailed down into my stomach. It was one hundred times more painful than the cultivator in my hoof. Dad’s face muscles didn’t move even slightly, but there was something in his eyes that showed he knew he had just hurt me. He did not take back what he said, only remained silent. My mouth trembled as if it wanted to say something more, although I knew this wasn’t the case. My eyes casted down and I turned my body away from my father. The rest of the day I just layed on my bed, my chin sunk into my pillow as I stared off to something past the wall. During my time I was going through sets of on and off sobbing. I was thinking of not only earlier, but every other time I tried to use magic. I had to desperately tried, and failed. I thought of how useless I am. I thought of how weak I am, how much I cry. Do other’s silently judge me? Am I a burden to my parents? So many thoughts collecting at once lead to a sobbing fit. That happened several times. Now I sat with tired, dry eyes that itched from lack of moisture. I violently blinked and squinted but nothing got rid of the feeling. There was a knock on the door and after that the door opened. I did not turn my head but I knew it was my mother for she had a certain style of door opening. I heard her hooves quietly approach me. “Hey,” her voice was soft. “I haven’t seen you all day. Did the earthquake freak you out?” I shifted, but did not speak. I sensed the mare lean towards me. “What’s wrong? Why are you so quiet, acting asocial?” Glancing up at her, I supported my head with a hoof. “I just,” I sighed, “I wanted to help Dad and… I messed up.” “Oh,” Mom sung with sympathy. “Well, if it makes feel any better, Dad was talking about maybe bringing you on a trip.” I sat up giving a questioning face. “I don’t know much,” Mom responded to the question I did not need to ask, “But he was saying he was talking to HyperBlitz about going to- Haythorn I think. He said bringing you may be a good experience.” I pondered what time Dad had spoken to HyperBlitz. I remember Hyper had gotten information about Haythorn right before the earthquake. About an hour later, I had been with my father. Did Dad speak with HyperBlitz before or after I failed at cleaning? I must have been making a strange thinking face for Mom appeared to be defending herself. “I don’t want to give you false information. You can ask Dad yourself. Why don’t you ask him at dinner?” And so dinner came. I sat quietly, struggling on whether or not I should ask my father. What if he spoke to HyperBlitz before my mistake? Then was Dad still upset and changed his mind about the trip. Even so, when could he have spoken to Mom about it? More likely after the mishap because that was the only logical time slot. I glanced at Mom, my eyes wide. I reckon she took that as a signal to bring up the topic. She cleared her throat and stared at her husband. “So, CharmingRhythm…” “Yes, HeartFelt?” He did some strange look with raised brows but squinted eyes. “You were talking about a trip with GentleSketch?” Dad straightened his back, his face stunned. He glanced at me. My eyes darted back and forth before he went back to the mare. “Aw, did you already tell him?” How could he have possibly known that? “You ruined the surprise!” Mom shrugged. “I wanted to cheer him up. He seemed- he was upset.” “Upset?” That question was for me. “Um.” I failed to make eye contact. “I was upset because I… I was being stupid trying to use magic. I made you angry, and I… don’t like doing that.” Dad’s posture loosened. “Oh, Sketch. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I should have known that would have hurt you.” “No, how could you have known?” I mumbled. “Because you are sensitive.” His mouth tightened. “But I wanted to bring you on a trip to make you feel better. You need to get out of the camp and experience something else.” “To Haythorn, right?" Mom said at just the right moment so that it was not considered an interruption. “Yep,” Dad confirmed. “ HyperBlitz explained how there’s a problem with rogues in Haythorn. We were going to send someone to see if we can help. Hyper said he would go, and I was like ‘hey, I should go too!’ We do make a good team and we haven’t done a mission in forever.” “But aren’t rogues dangerous,” I expressed as I peered over to Mom. I was not trying to back out, I wanted to know what Mom thought. “I thought about that,” Dad addressed. “I was-when we got to Haythorn I’d leave you there and go find the rogues… no offense. I just want to protect you. You may not be able to fight rogues, but being around different ponies is still good. I don’t want you to think I’m just going to leave you behind. I- I don’t want anything happening to you.” “I understand,” I said. “But what does Mom think?” All attention was on the mint green mare now. She inhaled and froze, processing the ideas in her mind. “I suppose, It would be a good father/son bonding experience, as well Sketch getting out of the camp.” “We could be gone for up to a week,” Dad warned his wife. “ Can you live without us for that long?” I believe he was teasing her. “I’ve been without you guys for much longer. I’ll be fine knowing you are together, or at least know where each other are,” warm brown eyes fell on me, “With good ponies.” “Awesome,” Dad said, a grin on his muzzle. “I’ll speak with HyperBlitz and we can sort out when we can go.”