//------------------------------//
// Chapter 3: Beginnings 
// Story: CiderCon Chronicles 
// by SSCiderConOfficial 
//------------------------------//


CiderCon Chronicles
Chapter 3: Beginnings

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." - 
Brokenhorn, Buffalo Chief 



Bramley woke with a smile on his face. This wasn't unusual for the young colt. Life, to him, was an endless stream of adventures to have, ponies to help, and new things to experience.
His smile was a little wider, though,  because school was out today. That meant once Bramley had his chores done the day was his! 
The Princesses had barely traded night for day, but Bramley was up and at it. 
He was a bundle of energy with a shock of salmon hair and a vest bouncing from one chore to the next. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when Bramley's was finished with the last chore. He was sitting in the kitchen reading a comic and eating a bowl of cereal when his Mother, Warm Welcome,  came in. 

"Mummimm Muhmuh." he said around a mouthful of cereal. A blush rose on his cheeks as he realized what he'd done. He hastily chewed, swallowed, and spoke again.

"Sorry." he said in apology for his lapse in manners "Mornin' Mama."
Warm Welcome gave him a smile that contained all her depth of love for him. "Mornin' Bramley." "So, " she began, while making a cup of tea for herself, "what is my little stallion gettin' up to today?"
"Well, I thought I'd do a little fishin', then go down to the creek and look for crawdads, and maybe work on m' fort a little, and then be back here in time for lunch n' all."
Warm Welcome beamed at her son.
" All right then Bram, so long you're back here by lunchtime."
"Thanks Mama." Bramley replied
He finished the last spoonful of cereal. As he was taking his bowl to the sink to wash it, his mother intercepted him and took it. 
"I'll take care o' this, son. You go have fun. "
Bramley smiled in gratitude. 
"Thanks, Mama."

Bramley pushed his chair in and put his comic away while Warm Welcome washed his bowl and spoon. Bramley walked over to stand next to her. He laid his head against her and said "I love you." 
Warm Welcome laid her head on top of his and said "And I love you."
They stayed like that for a moment, united by their love for each other and by the unspoken truth that they both were missing Bramley's dad.
When a rooster crowed outside, Warm Welcome exclaimed "Ponyfeathers, son. The day's a' wastin' ! You better git!"
Bramley smiled his crooked, sheepish grin at her, grabbed his fishing gear, and dashed out the door bound for adventure. 


********************


Bramley did everything he planned.

And then some. 

After fishing, on his way down the dirt road to the creek, he'd run into one of the local farmers, Plowshare.  He'd been a part of the community for as long as anyone could remember. Despite his age, he was still strong and spry. Today, though, pulling the cart loaded with sacks of seed and supplies seemed to be getting to him. Bramley trotted up to him. 

"Mornin' Mister Plowshare." 

Plowshare stopped, and greeted Bramley. 

"Mornin' son." He spotted Bramley's fishing gear. "How's the fishin' today?" 

"Good! They sure are a' bitin'," he exclaimed.

"Well, maybe once I get these supplies home and put away, I'll get down there and see fer m'self."

"Well, " Bramley said, "how about I help you get this cart home and such and then you can be at the fishin' hole all the sooner?" 

"Oh, son, I couldn't ask that o' you. I can manage."

Bramley cocked his head and spoke conspiritorially to him. 

"Now, you know if my Mama found out I didn't help you I'd get a talkin' to."

He paused, and smiled his lopsided grin at him.

"Ya' don't want to get me in hot water, do ya'?"

Plowshare chuckled and smiled warmly back at him.

" Well, I reckon I wouldn't."

So Bramley stowed his fishing gear, then yoked himself up next to Plowshare. In no time they were at his farm. Bramley helped him store his cartload, and took off to head to the creek.
"Bye, Mister Plowshare. Thanks!" He called over his shoulder.
"No, son, thank you!" He called, waving to Bramley as he disappeared at full gallop up the road.


********************


The same exchange was repeated all morning.

A neighbor out cutting wood, another out collecting herbs and roots, yet another mending their fence.

Bramley was there to give a helping hoof to any and all who need one.

It was nearly lunchtime, and he had just finished helping Green Gardens plant a row of cabbages. He needed to get home quickly, so he took a shortcut through the woods on the outskirts of town.

The forest was dense and inhospitable here, but Bramley was accustomed to it. He heard a faint noise. He stopped, swivelling his ears this way and that to narrow down where it was coming from.It sounded like a fire, but not quite. It was a clicking, clacking, chittering noise. 

"That a' way." he said to himself, and set off warily.

As he got closer he heard it again, this time accompanied by the sound of dead leaves rustling. 
He was getting closer.
He reached the lip of a  shallow natural gully, and looked down. He stood there for a few seconds, dumbstruck at the sight at the bottom of the gully. 

It looked like something that somepony would dress up as on Nightmare Night. It appeared to be a skeletal, coal black, cross between an alicorn and a beetle. 
As it lay there in the gully, it appeared to be sleeping fitfully. Every now and then it would make noises like it was talking in it's sleep in a language that he didn't understand. Sometimes the "talking" was accompanied with spasmodic jerks of its legs.

He realized, then that he was still out in the open, and if it woke up now he might spook it. He took cover in some dense bushes to his left, and crouched down so he could see but not be seen.
As if on cue, once Bramley had settled himself, the creature awoke. It looked like it was getting ready to leave, then it froze. Its head whipped around, like it was looking for something. 
Then Bramley realized it knew somehow that he was there.
He wondered how it might react. Was it dangerous? It looked sickly, but Bramley had never seen anything like it so it was hard to tell. What would it do? 
He saw the creature get to its feet. It was obvious that its legs were weak. It was sick, Bramley was sure of it now. 

Then it bared it fangs, and hissed. 

Even though Bramley knew it was sick, the effect was fearsome enough to startle him. 
He gasped and fell back on his rump.
The creature turned its eyes towards him. 
Bramley wasn't sure whether to run or not. 
On the one hoof, this critter was obviously sick, and sick critters were often more dangerous.  
On the other hoof, this critter was obviously sick, and without his help would probably die. 
On the one hoof, it looked so strange,  horrifying, and alien.
On the other hoof, it didn't take a lot of imagination to see how similar they were too.

For Bramley, there was really only one choice. 

He had to help. It was the right thing to do.

He stood up, steeled himself against the fear, and began walking slowly forward. He saw shock and dismay flash across the creature's face. 
He took a step closer.

There was panic in the creature's eyes. Bramley readied himself. He knew that in the next few moments the creature would either run, attack, or acquiesce.

The seconds dragged into what seemed like hours as he waited, motionless. 

Something flashed in the creature's expression. 
The top half of it decided to run, but the bottom half seemed to disagree. It fell hard, and lay there, panting. 

Bramley's heart broke for it. 

Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes as the direness of the situation set it. 
It wasn't just sick, it was at death's doorstep. 

"Sugar and Saltlicks, you're in bad shape..." Bramley said.
He realized that he was scared. Not scared for himself, but scared for it. He started to panic that it would die before he could help.
He caught himself. He wasn't sure if this thing could smell fear or not. Even if it couldn't, fear might keep him from thinking straight.

"I'm not gonna hurt ya'. Mama taught me we should care for the ones 'at can't take care o' themselves."
He extended a hoof towards it like he'd been taught to do with dogs or cats that weren't familiar with him. 

"My name's Bramley, what's yours?" he said, knowing full well that this creature was in no condition to speak.

He inched closer. It thrashed feebly, and its eyes started to roll back in its head.

Bramley knew he had to go get help. 

"I'll be right back. You're gonna' be fine. I'm gonna' go get my Mama and some food, and we'll get you fixed up. Please don't go nowhere."

He knew that the last part was probably pointless, that it was beyond the point of going anywhere on its own. 

He turned, and ran from the gully at full gallop. 


********************


Branches whipped his cheeks, and brambles tore at his legs as he galloped heedlessly through the woods. He knew there wasn't a moment to waste. He broke free of the forest and in to his yard, yelling for his Mama at the top of his lungs.

He burst through the back door, casting good manners aside be letting the screen door slam and yelling "Mama! C'mere! Quick!" 
He ran through the house yelling for her, but she wasn't there. Back in the kitchen he noticed the clock. It was an hour later than when he said he'd be home. His mom had probably gone out to look for him.
For a moment, he wasn't sure of what to do. He thought about going to the neighbors for help. His family lived just outside town near the festival grounds, though, so the closest neighbor was several minutes away. 

Minutes that he might not have.

"I'm on ma' own." he thought. 
The thought frightened him. He wasn't the town doctor, and didn't know what to do to save this creature. 

Then it hit him.

"I just need to buy him a little time. Time for me to get more help..."he said. 

Heartened by the realization, he mentally replayed the scene from the gully to determine what its immediate needs might be.

It was chilly this morning, it was probably cold.
It had cuts and scratches all over, the first aid kit would help with some of them.
It was skinny, it needed to eat. 

He set about gathering the things he needed, and staging them by the back door. He grabbed a blanket, and the first aid kit from the bathroom, now he just needed food.
He looked around the kitchen, and saw the pie sitting on the windowsill to cool. He hastily cut out half and wrapped it in a clean dishtowel from the drawer.  
He quickly scribbled out a note to tell his mom where he was, and what had happened.
He placed the collected supplies in the saddlebaskets they kept by the backdoor and took off again.

He hoped he wouldn't be too late.