Dear Stranger (part two)
Brenda still hadn't gotten quite used to how sensitive her new hooves were. Maybe it was the strange contrast between the hard rim of the hoof and the comparatively soft frog, so very unlike human feet. The tactile result was an acute awareness of the surface's properties.
Had the floor not consisted of old wooden boards, it would have sparkled in the afternoon sun. Springtide had made sure of that. As it was, its matte surface had a smooth, velvety feel to it, the result of a thorough scouring with fine sand. It was also nice to sit on with a bare rump, though that did little to diminish her unease.
Springtide had placed her right in the middle of the room, “So that you can properly greet our guests. And so they can get a good look at you too.” She had apologized for the latter sentence almost immediately, but of course she was right. That was the whole point after all and she couldn't find it in her to be angry. Freak.
Not even when defending her thesis had she been this nervous. Bipedal Brenda would have had clammy hands and also wet spots under the armpits by now. Quadrupedal Brenda was merely sweating a little all over and flicking her one good ear back and forth. Her tail was tucked around her to an extent that it covered her hooves, which she was looking down at.
A soft touch to her withers made her look up into the warm eyes of Springtide. The ever present teasing little smile was gone from the green mare's muzzle, as was the usual mirth in her eyes. It had been replaced by an expression of affection and a tiny bit of worry.
“Hey,” she began in a low voice, “It's all going to be alright. We're all here for you and nobody is expecting anything from you.” She gave a little sigh and sat down beside her adoptive daughter. “There's just no way around making it an official event; you ended up in the wrong family to avoid that.” A somewhat guilty look crossed her features in the little pause that followed. “I'll stay here with you.” She nuzzled her. “Okay?”
She nodded and leaned against Springtide, taking in her scent that was as calming as ever. Maybe there was a chance that all this would go over in a good way. As long as she wasn't alone.
She hadn't expected the first arrivals to be three regular horses. They were introduced by Springtide as close friends to the family and of high standing in the more tribal part of the Stromness community. One was a nondescript greyish Welsh mountain pony (or at least that had to be the main ancestry). He whinnied something to the brown mare and white stallion, both Icelands, that had followed him in. The three stopped up short and stared when they saw her, muttering something to each other in their strange language. Then they bowed and gave a formal sounding greeting.
She pressed herself up at Springtide, taken aback by the show of deference. The mare gently shoved her away with a foreleg and spoke up. “Now now, Brenda here doesn't understand a word of Whinny.” There was an embarrassed pause. “Yes, even less than Moorland,” she added in a conspiratorial tone after looking over her shoulder and around the room.
The resulting snorts and chuckles broke the ice a little. After clearing her throat she managed a friendly 'hello, nice to meet you' to the guests, taking care to seek eye contact and not to flatten her ears. It worked, the relief turning her smile sincere. Even so, the others still gazed at her with something that was close enough to awe for it to be uncomfortable.
Out of nowhere, someone poked a hoof at her leg. “Heya lass, you're quite the sight,” came a gravelly voice from in front and a little below. “And with a sensible height. Ne'r mind those tall numbnuts.”
She blinked and realized that Springtide hadn't just announced three but four names. In looking up to the one or almost two feet taller newcomers she had missed the last one.
He was a stout, chestnut Shetland stallion who'd just walked right up to her without further ado. There wasn't a trace of reverence in his demeanour, quite the opposite in fact. He grinned at her, with sparkling black eyes that looked out from under a wild and broad mane that was streaked with reddish, black and grey strands.
She couldn't help but giggle at the sight.
“That's the spirit. I tend to have that effect you know. Word of advice though,” he added with a wink, “My temper's just as short as my legs.” He took a step sideways and gave her flank an appraising look. “Gotta say, that's nice to look at. No exaggeration there.”
“Uh... my mark?” she managed.
“Mm?” His good natured grin seemed to grow even wider. “Oh sure, that too.”
“Spray!” Springtide snapped.
He rolled his eyes. “Yep, that's my name Spring. Mother's been dead for years so I can't kill her for it. Loved her with all my heart though.” He held out a hoof. “Good to meet ya Brenda.”
She bumped hooves with him, blushing furiously and trying to stammer a reply.
“Just messing with you,” he chuckled. “On the other hoof...” He smiled, looking wistful. “Ne'r mind. An anvil, eh? You sure look tough like that. Talk to you later!” He sauntered off towards the table and what she now realized was his designated place: two upturned sturdy plastic boxes. They were placed adjacent to each other and low enough to step up on with ease.
“Maybe I should have warned you about him,” Springtide muttered.
Hoofsteps on the stairs behind her distracted her before she could reply. Turning her head, she spotted Moorland coming down into the lobby. He was the very picture of refinement.
A moment later Dawn also arrived, annoyance clear on his face. He was giving his brother's back some silent words with a childish theatrical mimic of irritation. A little too late, the young leader realized what he was doing and a fond smile materialized on his muzzle without so much as a moment of transition.
So she wasn't the only one who could blush. She had to stifle a giggle at how weird it looked on a horse, even an alien one. It occurred to her that it also was a bad time to laugh at the one who was her leader now. That realization killed any merriment in an instant and made her look down at her hooves again. The anxiety that Spray had dissolved came back in full force.
“So, Brenda,” Moorland addressed her after she had looked up again, “Good to see you up and about after your ordeal; I'm very much looking forward to get to know our new family member. I'm sure that I'm not the only one highly anticipating you telling your story. Welcome to our household.”
Her mouth went dry. “Thank you,” she croaked, “M- Moorland Song.”
He nodded with the approving half-smile of the polite official. “I'll leave you to your other guests then, we'll have ample opportunity to talk later.” With that he walked over to greet an ice blue Fjord mare that had appeared in the meantime.
The remaining introductions, bows and hoof-bumps quickly blurred together as she struggled to remember names and discerning features. It was amazing and awful. On one- Don't think it! -hoof, the kindness and acceptance aimed at her was wonderful. On the other hoof, the reverence that came along with it in most cases was disturbing.
She was special. She wished she'd never have to leave again. She also wanted to run away screaming. Had it not been for Springtide at her side she might have just broken down into hysterical giggling.
Someone cleared his throat next to her. When she looked up she saw Dawn giving her a reassuring and, above all, understanding smile.
“You get used to it,” he said in a low voice before stomping a hoof and speaking up. “Welcome everybody. Since you've all got the introductions behind you already, I'll make this short. It's not everyday we get a new pony living under this roof, much less one that just escaped death by a hair's width.” He nodded at her. “Of course, knowing mother, it was all but inevitable once she got to see her.”
There were quiet chuckles all around, accompanied by an indignant snort from her left.
He smiled and continued, “I'd like to remind you all to be gentle with Brenda. I hope you don't mind me speaking for you?” He added, looking at her once more.
She quickly shook her head.
“Alright. She's been through a lot and isn't used to being around larger groups. I'm as curious as you are as to why that is, but I guess we'll know more about that by the end of the day.” He looked back at her with a wink.
Her heart jumped into her throat and she felt her ears flatten despite her best efforts to prevent it. She forced a nod.
He gave her a sympathetic smile and mouthed “Don't worry,” before turning to the guests again. “You see what I mean. Please don't hold it against her, she's a wonderful person. Anyway. I know you're all pretending to be here to see her and her mark, but you can stop doing that now.” He smirked. “Let's get to the important part,” he proclaimed and pointed a hoof at the table.
The 'important part' was astonishing. Of all the different kinds of greens and vegetables on display she only recognized about half. Curly and smooth varieties of leaf salads, ranging in colour from bright green to red, filled large wooden trays. Seeing them served still attached to the stalks or roots was weird. Crispy lettuce heads, cut into quarters, lay in small piles surrounded by different radishes. Bunches of baby carrots complete with tops accompanied them. Speckled cos-salads were piled on top of each other like corn cobs.
Fresh peas in their pods were arranged around blue-green savoy cabbages of the very earliest varieties. Those were offset by the pale green of the last endives available before the autumn crop could be planted. She hated everything related to kale, cabbage and bitter leaf vegetables. Except these somehow smelled mouthwatering. Was that leafy rapeseed over there? It smelled a bit of mustard, so there was good chance that it was.
The arrangements were broken up by evenly spaced hedgerows of soft meadow grass and a multitude of fragrant herbs. Small enamel bowls sat in between it all, filled with something she couldn't identify at first. It was the only thing with a large fork beside it and a closer look revealed it to be dry, chopped seaweed. Why would anyone want to eat that? Of course. You didn't eat it by the mouthful. Just like you wouldn't eat table salt with a spoon.
The dark old oak table was soaking wet. The food on it had been sprinkled with water every now and then over the course of the day. Only in the small clearings before each sitting space was the surface even visible.
Small tubs with clear water were positioned at regular distances on the floor along the table. That was a rather impractical way of providing something to drink in her opinion. Dawn seemed to have the right to one for him alone.
Her place was between Solstice on her left and Dawn, who was seated at the head of the table, to her right. When she sat down, she by accident dipped the tip of her tail into the tub. “Oh I'm sorry!” she said with wide eyes. “I... I guess you're not going to want to drink of that now.”
Solstice gave her an odd look, followed by a little snort. “That's just there to wash your hooves.” He cocked his head. “Shouldn't get dirt on something as nice as this meal.” There was a little pause. “You, uh, you usually don't do that?”
She felt her face heat up. “I... I just... don't those four down there drink it?” She pointed a shaky hoof at the horses at the far end of the table.
Solstice wriggled his hooves in front of her with a smirk. “Well, they'll only be using these things to stand on, not for eating.” The smirk turned into a frown. “That's not their fault, no?” Now he looked almost angry.
A regular horse's legs didn't bend the way her own could! How could she have forgotten that? Their food wasn't arranged like some kind of artwork but in neat little piles and rows. Easy to eat without making a mess when you only had your mouth to pick it up. Oh god. “No!” she squeaked.
His voice lost the sudden edge again, although the warmth with which he had greeted her was missing now. “Ours is over there,” he said and pointed to some zinc tubs lined up on a bench below the windows.
“But how do we...,” she began, looking down at the table
With a snort he pointed at the empty bowl on the table, placed a little to the side. Everybody had one. Of course. The table was the plate, the bowl was just for water. “And before you ask, if you got any kind of waste, that goes down there.” He pointed to a small box under the table.
She shook her head while looking down at her hooves. Five minutes in and she'd already made a fool of herself. Please don't let Dawn or Springtide have followed this.
“Damn,” Solstice said under his breath.
There was an awkward pause in which she only could hear uninterrupted conversations all around her. No one had noticed.
When the stallion spoke again it was in a much softer tone. “Hey, I'm sorry for going all Harvest on you Brenda. Uhm. seriously. Set me off there, 'cause... uhm...” There was the shortest of breaks. “It's just that I've got... Dawn didn't exaggerate, like, for effect. You really are kind of a wild thing I guess. Not your fault then.”
She looked up to see him scratch himself behind an ear while looking away in embarrassment. It wasn't his fault! He was so nice and protective of his people and she didn't want to embarrass him or anyone else. “Solstice Spirit, I... I've got no idea about...,” she began in a small voice.
“Just call me Sol.” He put a hoof to her shoulder, smiling again. “It's okay. I'm kinda bad at using that thing between my ears sometimes,” he said, the smile turning into a grin. “I'll make up for it! How about you ask me every time you're unsure of something? I promise not to laugh!”
She breathed a sigh of relief and gave a little smile. “Thank you Sol, I'd be grateful.”
“Hey, no problem. Could even learn something from you I guess, what with you having lived out there for so long, all on your own. You're damn tough as well! Not sure I could have survived that; would be something if I had proof of doing that kind of thing. Even if I like to have both my ears.”
With a wince she looked down at the table again and tried not to sniffle.
He stopped chuckling when he saw her reaction, blinked, then put a hoof between his eyes and looked down at the table as well. “Ah, shit.” After a deep sigh he continued, “Guess I can't save that with a 'be proud'.” He pushed a carrot back and forth before him. “I'll just shut up now.”
She shook her head. “No, it's alright. I need to get used to it anyway. And,” she put a hoof on his shoulder, “Now we've both made a bit of a fool of ourselves, no?” A sad little smile played around her muzzle.
He looked up with a sheepish expression. “Guess you're right. Now I guess mom's already worrying that you don't like what's on the table because you haven't touched it yet. Let's change that.”
She nodded in relief but hesitated when she turned to the food in front of her. “Sol?”
“Mmhm?” The carrot top, not entirely vanished into his mouth yet, almost brushed over her muzzle when he turned his head. “Sorry, yeah?” After looking where she pointed, he smiled, cleared his throat and intoned in a serious voice: “Lesson one: how to eat a lettuce head and garnish without offending your mother.”
She scowled at him.
To her relief, much of what constituted good table manners in her new family wasn't all that different from her former one. She hadn't made any embarrassing mistakes so far, and Solstice's approval lifted her spirits. She found herself enjoying the communal meal. Learning the proper techniques was a challenge, albeit great fun in its own right. Hooves were funny to eat with, what with the outside being hard and the underside much softer.
“Hey, you're doing great Brenda,” Solstice commented on her chasing a quarter lettuce head around that eluded her attempts at capturing it.
She scowled at the uncooperative thing.
“Just grip it, I think you've made it clear now that this is yours and you are planning on eating it.”
With a snort she stopped trying to pick up the lettuce between the rims of her hooves and gripped it with the soft undersides instead. 'You touch you eat' made sense of course. What took some getting used to was that hooves were assigned two different functions in that context. The outside counted as a kind of utensil, for lack of a better word. The soft underside was the equivalent of using your fingers.
“Now, you take it like this,” he instructed and then supervised her in eating it.
Baby carrots turned out to be an unmatched delicacy. After the first few bites, she wasn't sure what would come first; drooling on the table or drowning in her own saliva. She had to clamp down on a part of her that wanted to devour every last one of them within her reach. No wonder Freya had always tried to dig through her pockets in search of more. Just one more. She reined in the greedy equine and just licked her muzzle instead with an audible slurp.
“Tsk tsk,” came from her left.
Her face heated up in an instant. “But they're so good! I've never tasted anything like them!”
“You should tell Harvest,” Dawn commented from her right.
“You were listening?” she squeaked.
“Of course.” When she turned her head, he smiled at her with a glint in his eyes and waggled an ear at her.
Her own still did what they wanted. Or rather, what it wanted, she corrected herself with an inward sigh. She'd never seen any of the others do it though, so maybe that was just him. Wings and waggly ears! She giggled, which made him grin in turn.
“He won't respond with more than a huff of course, but he'll appreciate it. But I think your teacher wants your attention again, regardless of how much I enjoy it.” He pointed a hoof at Solstice. “I promise not to disturb you two any more,” he said with a wink.
“Wh- hey! I'm just trying to help!” his brother protested.
Dawn turned away with a good natured chuckle.
“Oh god, I've no idea what I'm doing.” The approving little nicker in the back of her mind implied that someone knew exactly what she was doing. She clamped down on it and gave a nervous little cough.
Solstice's long, suffering sigh was reassuring in a way. “Chieftainish shenanigans notwithstanding-”
“I heard that!”
He took a short breath. “-you're going to try some of the stuff that Salt collected for you next.” After a tiny pause he put a hoof to his chin and added with a lopsided grin, “Just for you.”
“For f- Ow!” A face... hoof turned out to be something you had to practice for it to be painless. “Stupid giant eyes,” she muttered, rubbing the one in question with the back of her fetlock. “Stop laughing!”
“Sorry. Heh.” Solstice snickered but waved an apologetic hoof. “And your eyes are beautiful – no, don't look at me like that.” He blinked. “Uhm... I mean... did that come out wrong again?”
It was her turn to chuckle. “No. If you weren't a- uh-” A really nice stallion? – Shut.Up. “-well what I mean is I'll take it as a compliment!” She shook her head. “What was it you wanted me to try?”
With an apologetic smile he turned and pointed at the small hedges of meadow cuttings that ran across the table at regular intervals. “It's the first cut. I'm always looking forward to that.” with that he reached across and deposited a little mound of grass in front of her.
She looked at it with mixed feelings. On one hoof- one hand- on- she shook her head with a little shudder. On one hoof, she was afraid of trying real grass. What if she didn't like it? On the other, she was curious.
“You okay Brenda?” Solstice asked, tilting his head.
“Yes yes,” she replied without paying any real attention. “Just want to have a look.”
“Uhm. Okay?”
“Yeah.” Identifying grasses in the earlier stages of growth hadn't been her strongest suit at university. “Hm, cocksfoot, meadow fescue and smooth meadow grass, pretty sure of that,” she murmured. “Guess that’s timothy.” She put a hoof to her chin. “Ribgrass, yarrow…” She'd tried those two while still human and that had been pleasant even then. There were a few things she didn't recognize, but they seemed similar to the rest.
Then it hit her. This was a quality pasture composition, balanced in nutrients and suitable for long time grazing. There also wasn't any ryegrass, which was puzzling. Was it because ryegrass was thought to increase the risk of laminitis in some horses? To her knowledge, that hadn’t been established as fact yet. When you removed the highly productive and resilient plant from the mixture, you had to balance the composition much more carefully. Like here. Someone here really knew what they were doing.
Right. Horses expertly designing their own seed mix.
“Let’s see,” she mumbled and began to look for a telltale leaf or stalk of the erosion preventing and hoofstep tolerant red fescue. She was interrupted by a polite cough from Solstice. “Sorry,” she said with a sheepish smile, “I was just looking at what's in there.”
With a little apprehension, she picked up a small amount of the grass. She hesitated for a moment before she remembered how horses ate something like this when being fed by hand. Her exaggerated lip movement produced an amused snort from her mentor, but it worked. Only a single leaf dropped back on the table.
It was weird. Surprisingly good, but weird. Of course it made sense for her tastebuds to be this sensitive. The ability to discern the different tastes in a whole mouthful of grass and herbs was still unexpected. A smile crept onto her face. Maybe she could manage to be a pony after all, despite the unpleasant memory of the one time she had tried to graze before.
“And?”
“It's great!”
Solstice smiled and nodded. “Yup, that's something different than stuff from some random patch of grass. Wish there was some meadowsweet as well, but, uhm, someone ate all of that already.”
That was something she would have liked to try as well. Maybe she could find some on her own. She smiled. A whole new culinary world had just opened for her. “Salt Marsh brought in some watercress as well... is it okay if I sprinkle that on?”
“Sure is! Try some seasoning as well.”
Emboldened, she heaped watercress onto her grass and also gave the little mound a generous dose of the strange seaweed condiment. What followed with the next mouthful she could only describe as a flavour explosion. “Wow! This is amazing!” She was about to dig in when she realized that her outburst had made her the centre of attention for Dawn, Moorland and Springtide. They were all looking at her with amused expressions.
“But it is! I've never had anything like this!” She beamed at Springtide. “Thank you mum!”
The mare gave her a happy smile. “You're more than welcome. Don't let us distract you!”
She didn't need any encouragement for that and went for it.
“You know,” Solstice commented, “You don't necessarily have to use your hooves for this, it's okay to eat it like our friends down there.” He pointed to the other end of the table where the regular horses were standing.
“But I can!” she retorted with a grin, looking at him instead of her hooves. She promptly lost her grip, the rims of her hooves slipping against each other. A second later there was grass on the table, the floor, her muzzle and her mane. “Eh... heh.” A piece of seaweed fell from her forelock.
Solstice snorted so hard he hiccuped, then put his head in his hooves and shook with laughter. Dawn thumped a hoof on the table and laughed while Springtide just shook her head with an eye-roll and a warm smile. Even Moorland gave an amused smirk and mock respectful nod. In short succession the amusement travelled down the table, making her blush hard.
She couldn't help but laugh herself too. “Hey! I was doing well until you distracted me Sol!”
“Yeah, yeah, blame it on me!” he retorted between gasps for air.
Even without taking the last two weeks into account, she hadn't had this much fun for quite a while. She smirked while trying to remove some watercress that had lodged around the stump of her ear. “Seriously, this is like eating Spaghetti with your hands only. Or two spoons. That takes practice!” She sighed an overly wistful sigh. “Would be a lot easier with a fork.”
The laughter around her died down as Moorland tilted his head and mum's amusement was replaced with a confused expression.
She blinked and gave a nervous little laugh that ended in a dry croak. “Uh, you know, like humans do. Eh, did! ,” she gulped. Silence. “W-with, like... hands?” There was a sharp intake of breath to her right. When she turned her head she saw that Dawn was looking at her with wide eyes. “When they were still around?” she squeaked.
Dawn leaned forward. “From where do you know of this? You really have found-”
“Now that is interesting,” Moorland interrupted him, also leaning forward and regarding her with a piercing gaze. “How much do you know of the old folk?”
“W-what? Who?”
“That's, uhm, Moorland speak for those that made all the stuff around here. Uhm. Humans.” She whipped her head around to a grinning Solstice. “Hey, uhm, are you alright?” he added when he looked her in the face, his expression turning to one of slight concern.
Her mouth was dry. “No. I-I mean yes! Why not?!”
“'Cause you look like you've seen a ghost,” said Solstice and put a hoof to her withers.
Suddenly it took all of her self-control not to pull away from the friendly touch. A ghost. He was right. Something long dead.
“Shh, little one,” came Springtide's concerned voice.
Dead like mum. Real mum. Not this fantasy one.
“It's all good, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I, well, I just want to know all there is to know about them. That's all, really.” Dawn's wing draping itself over her back made her jump.
The winged horse's voice was calm and friendly. “Brenda, I don't know what the problem is, but nobody here is going to hurt you in any way, you know that.” He tapped a hoof to his chin. “How about we talk about something different and you tell mother what frightened you sometime later?”
She nodded. Please let him change the subject as far away from this one as possible! Anything but-
“Let's hear your story instead,” said Dawn with a smile. “I've been dying to hear it anyway ever since you tried to tell me recently.”
She froze.
After a few moments, Springtide asked in a careful voice, “Brenda?”
It was too late. Why hadn't she managed to talk to the mare about it? “Because she's a horse,” her mind whispered, “You can't talk to horses. And horses can't talk. You can't talk.” Her other part was gone, as if it had never existed. Because it couldn't have existed.
The silence stretched, sucking the air from her lungs. As if looking down on herself from far away, she watched the creature that was her open its muzzle and force out a whispered “This is all wrong.”
“Uhm, what is?” asked the ridiculous piebald stallion to her left. “Could you stop being cryptic?” he added with uncertainty.
Her awareness snapped back into her body. “This is!” she bit out, holding up her forehooves.
The green mare spoke again, by the looks of it trying to be as gentle and reassuring as she could. “Brenda, your hooves are just a bit chipped. You've been through a lot,” she paused and smiled, “But you'll be fine. Think about something nice, why don't you? Like where you're from, where such a lovely mare as you came from. Home?”
“Kirkwall!” she snapped, wanting to strangle the mare.
“But that's ridiculous,” Moorland dismissed the notion. “Nobody could grow up there. You barely made it out alive. Thinking that a foal could-”
“Moorland...” Springtide warned, narrowing her eyes at him.
Unperturbed, he continued, “What is so bad? Why are you lying?”
“Moorland!” his mother hissed, “Stop it!”
The room was spinning out of focus as she felt wetness seeping down her cheeks. She drew a shaky breath, then another. Then she exploded. “I'm a human! I'm not a horse! Two weeks ago I was human! Not this bad joke of a creature!”
In the stunned silence that followed, one could have heard a pin drop. A few moments later, Moorland broke it with a derisive snort but she pre-empted him by jumping to her hooves. Hit by her hind hooves, the zinc tub flew backwards and spilled its contents all over the floor. The dented tub was still clattering over the floor when she started yelling over the noise.
“I just wanted to grab some lunch! Next thing I know I'm a pony in a wasteland and about to get eaten alive! How was I supposed to tell you that!?”
Dawn rose to his hooves, planting them firmly on the floor, wings half extended. “Brenda. Calm down,” he said in a steady voice.
She ignored him as she retreated backwards towards the window and out of his reach. The wooden boards were slippery and seemed to be swaying as well. “What day is it?” she croaked at Moorland. “Date.”
He cocked his head. “Tenth of June, 2135,” he replied, his words slow and deliberate.
Ice formed in her gut. Hearing the actual date connected this surreal environment to reality. Maybe her subconscious had clung on to the notion that this was all a dream after all. She stared at the stallion open-mouthed, dumbfounded by a fact that was obvious.
“Must have hit her head pretty hard after all,” came the dry comment from Harvest Moon.
It hit her like cold water. “Shut up!” she screamed, “I'm not crazy! I was human! I've lived in Kirkwall all my life!
Springtide spoke up, her voice stern. “Brenda, that's enough. I think you-”
She stomped a hoof, cutting Springtide off and eliciting a scowl from the mare. She couldn't stop now, the weight on her chest was becoming unbearable. “Why do you think I couldn’t eat with these?!” She waved a forehoof. “I only got them two weeks ago! I had to figure out how to walk first, for god's sake!” She gasped for breath, a moment Moorland seized to interject.
“I was told you fought and escaped a pack of dogs. Impressive for a mare who is unable to-”
Crack!
A thick floorboard splintered under yet another hoofstomp as she turned to face the stallion. “I've studied equine sciences at Wrexham Glyndŵr; I bloody well know how a horse moves, it just needed to click! And I've worked as a farrier! If I still had hands, I could shoe the lot of you!
Moorland closed his mouth and slowly put down the hoof he'd held up as if to protect himself, giving it an unsure glance as he did so. At the same time, the noise of agitated conversation in both English and tribal nickering trickled away.
A rasping, choked sound filled her ears instead, her own sobbing escaping from a sore throat. Her tail was swishing back and forth and she had no control over it whatsoever. It was maddening. Her one good ear pinned back against her skull so tight it hurt, she retreated into her corner. “I wanted to tell you,” she forced out, a salty taste entering her mouth when she opened her muzzle.
“Uhm...,” Salt Marsh cleared his throat, causing almost everyone to turn to him. “She's got that mark,” he said in a strained voice, “and-”
“And she says she was a farrier,” Moorland finished for him, cocking his head as he fixed her with a curious gaze.
“What’s a farrier?” came a reluctant question from further down the table.
“Nah, the lass is just tough as iron,” Spray spoke up, banging a hoof onto the table for emphasis. “Even if she's short a few nails,” the Shetland finished, chuckling at his own joke. No one else laughed.
There was a snort from Harvest who shook his head and started eating again.
“How can you think of food right now?” a perplexed Moorland asked.
“I'm not going to let the result of so many hours of hard work wilt on the table,” his brother gave back between mouthfuls. “Girl's nuts and I'm hungry. Simple.”
Solstice, who had been casting her unsure glances while inspecting his forehooves turned to Dawn. “Uhm, hey.” He looked at the pegasus between his hooves before remembering to put them down, somehow fitting a quick ear-scratch into the motion. “I mean, now with that mark, you know, farrier and all that and, and. If that's true. Uhm. Anyway. Heh.” There was a drawn out pause. “Uhm. What'd you think two Saddlebags stand for?”
“You are not dragging your father into this!” his mother snapped.
“Hah! Wouldn't that be something,” Spray mused aloud, accompanied by the crunch of two radishes. “Always told ya that old Scapa was hiding something.”
“My mate wasn't hiding anything!” Springtide called out with a tremor in her voice.
Only moments later everyone needed to air their opinion, if possible louder than everyone else. Nobody seemed to pay her attention any more.
Her tears had stopped even though they still burned behind her eyelids. She watched the water from the overturned tubs seep towards her along the cracks between the floorboards. There was a little puddle now where she'd ruined one of them. It all felt surreal, as if she'd just removed herself from this existence.
There were even good-natured laughs interspersed in the conversations and arguments. About half of the attendants followed Harvest's example and started eating again. She had her personal disaster all to her own.
When the water reached her hooves and began to wet her tail she finally looked up again. She found Dawn staring at her, oblivious to the goings-on in the rest of the room, his jaw muscles working. When their eyes met she shuddered at the anger burning there. She pressed herself further into the corner as he rose to his hooves. As he advanced toward her she could see his chest moving with deep but quick intakes of breath. She whimpered.
“How did you get to Wrexham?”
The question and the flat tone in which it was delivered caught her off guard. She gaped at him. “H- How did I what?” The total insignificance of that topic to the here and now was almost comical. She felt a hysterical giggle coming. “I'd fly to...” she tried to prevent it with a hiccup.
In an instant she had his muzzle only an inch from her face. “Don't tease me!” he hissed, flaring his wings.
“But-” she started to protest but broke off when he bared his teeth at her. She raised her hooves to cover her face. “Then- then my car! The ferry!” she cried out.
“How would you do that?” he growled, his ears pinning back against his skull.
She felt her voice cracking as the tears came back. “From here! Stromness to Thurso!” She shrunk back when he put a hoof forward with a thud. “Please don't hurt me!” She covered her eyes, her tears wetting the fur on her forelegs.
The room fell silent again.
When someone in the background tried to suppress a cough but nothing else happened, she risked a glance between her fetlocks. The pegasus was looking down on her, a strange, far away look in his eyes. A moment later the anger flowed back into his expression, but at least he gave her a little more room. He flicked his head, prompting her to raise her own.
“What kind of ferry?” The flat tone was back and it made her shudder.
“Vehicles and passenger!” When he didn't respond but just kept staring at her she added, “I took my car with me once.”
“Where did it berth?”
“Right down by the carpark and the gangway.”
Dawn clenched his teeth so hard she could hear them grinding together. “Timetable!” he bit out.
“B-but I-”
“I said, timetable!”
“Six thirty out, back at- at- I'm not sure! Nine?”
His wings quivered. “Duration!”
“Ninety minutes! What-”
“Fare price!”
“Sixteen pounds!” She pressed herself into the corner, as far away as possible from the furious stallion before her.
“Wrong! It was eighteen!”
“Student ticket! About sixty for a car!” She gulped for air before crying out “What do you want from me?!”
His wings filled her field of sight. “Company name!” he bellowed.
“Northlink!” Stars exploded across her vision as a wing connected with her temple.
“You can't know all this! Kirkwall is empty! You have no sources!”
She cowered on the wet floor, trying to shield herself from the next blow with her forelegs.
“Dawn Horizon! Stop this instant!” Springtide.
She yelped as his tail lashed over her tear streaked muzzle when he spun around.
“What!?” he yelled back. “She's lying! We took her in and she's lying! She has to be! She can't know this! She can't! Only father knew!” His voice caught. “He told me all of this a hundred times! I was so fucking sick of it!”
“Dawn!” his mother admonished.
“Shut up! Didn't he tell you how we're all worthless because we can't cross the firth? How our life isn't worth living?!” There were a few gasps, followed by some nervous shuffling and muttering. Before the chatter could pick up again he continued. “I should change all that.” He turned away from the others and rounded on her again. “You're hiding something! You're lying! You went through my library! It's all there!”
“I didn't,” she sobbed. “I swear I didn't read anything about it! I was on that ferry!”
“Liar!” He unfolded his right wing again.
“I can't read everything there! I don't have wings! I can't get all the thin stuff out!” She took a shaky breath and shouted out, “Not with these stupid hooves!”
He froze in mid-movement. “Give me a reason to believe your story.” His voice turned dangerously low. “Just one reason.”
Everyone but Springtide had vacated his vicinity, producing a clearing some three lengths in diameter.
Her mind was racing, her eyes searching the room for any kind of help. “The little piebald! He's got to remember!” her mind latched onto Dawn's brother. “I can prove it! My leather trousers! I kept them but I lost them when the dogs came after me but my wallet and phone and stuff was in there. I know where I lost them too! I was still wearing my t-shirt and sweater when they found me,” she blurted out in a breathless staccato. “Solstice saw it!”
The stallion in question gaped at her. “Uhm, w-what? Me?! I... uhm... well...”
Dawn folded back up and looked over his shoulder, giving her a little respite. She saw him tense up and Solstice trying to look for support and finding that he was a length away from everyone else. “Is that true?”
He gulped. “I think there were some rags hanging off of her... I- I'm not sure! Could have been anything!”
Anger welled up in her at his weak attempt to get out and cut the lifeline that had just appeared. “You ripped it off of me before you dragged me into that pond! I remember that. You and your mate and that other stallion.”
“M-m-m-my mate?” he stammered, the splotch of green on his face becoming much lighter and greyish.
“Yes!” she pressed on in desperation. “She pulled the rest of my shirt off! That orange Iceland mare! Please!”
With slow and stiff movements, the pegasus turned away from her to face his brother. The dry clopping of his hooves on the wood floor was the only sound in the room. “What.” No one moved. “Buidhe is... your mate.”
“N- no! Not as such! I mean, eh-”
“Liar!” she shouted past Dawn's swishing tail and rose to her hooves. “She couldn't have made it more obvious if she tried! Where is she anyway?!”
“She offered!” he cried while retreating a step, looking anywhere but her or Dawn. “I couldn't refuse! I'd dishonour her and- and- but I- oh dammit. Alright! Yes! She's amazing! What-”
She noticed Dawn beginning to shake, followed by two dry clacks as he planted his forehooves more apart from each other. Solstice shut up, tail between his legs. Springtide gave a nervous snort but moved to position herself between Dawn and her, blocking her sight.
“Does Faoileag know?” she heard Dawn snap.
“I don't think so,” came the subdued reply.
“So, four days before the most important meeting in decades you go and mess with the chieftain's niece and ambassador. And you do it behind my and his back at that,” mused Dawn in his flat voice. “Who else knows?”
“Ruadh,” Solstice squeaked.
“Brenda,” Springtide said in a low voice that didn't hold any of the hostility she'd expected. “Go to your room.” Her voice didn't contain much of anything.
She lowered her head and complied as she felt her tail sneak in between her legs. The green mare stayed at her side, shielding her from what was going on and the onlookers.
“Get out,” she heard Dawn growl and almost stumbled. He wasn't addressing her though.
“Dawn, I... I'm... sorry, I'm an idiot, I-” Solstice sounded close to crying.
“Get. Out.”
No one moved except herself and Springtide. The little distance to her room had become impossibly long.
“Get out! All of you!”
Solstice gave a whimper and fled, accompanied by startled exclamations and whinnies of surprise from outside the Royal Hotel. A little crowd must have gathered in the street.
“THAT WAS AN ORDER!”
Dawn snapped his wings shut, turned around and stomped up the stairs, the steps creaking under his hooves. There was a bang from the door being kicked open, the rattling of the hinges mostly drowned out by a shouted expletive. A second later, the door flew shut with a crash and a splintering crack. Small pieces of plaster and bits of the ancient door frame came raining down into the lobby.
Shell-shocked silence filled the room, even Springtide had stopped in her tracks. From outside came excited chatter and the irregular clip-clop of several sets of hooves. After a minute or so, someone cleared their throat, breaking the collective paralysis. Harvest, who had remained sitting during everything, finished eating a last carrot and rose to his hooves.
He spoke in an uncharacteristic calm and even tone, “You heard him. Do what he said.” He turned and strode out the door, soon followed by the others one by one. “Show’s over, move on!” his voice drifted in from the street.
Moorland was the last one to leave, giving her a long look over a shoulder.
She slunk into her room on heavy legs, head hanging low with exhaustion and a bruise already forming where Dawn had hit her. Never before in her life had she felt this miserable, no matter if all of this was her fault or not. Mum wouldn't be there for her tonight, that much was certain. For all she knew, she might not even have one come morning.
It took her half an hour to pull a third of the thick hay mat she shared with Springtide apart and move it to the opposite side of the room. There she piled the now loose material into a vaguely nest-shaped heap and curled up in it, so that she ended up half covered. She was drained and deathly tired, but also relieved in a strange way. Covering her head with a foreleg, she closed her eyes and waited for exhaustion to claim her.
Sleep wouldn't come though. An eternity of watching the light in the room turn from orange to red to murky purple later, there was the soft sound of careful hoofsteps. She buried deeper into her nest when the floorboards gave a little creak and the door was nosed open. Springtide stepped into the room, almost completely silent. Had it not been for her remaining ear’s ability to pinpoint sound so well she might not even have noticed.
The mare just stood there for several minutes, occasionally shifting her weight but not doing anything apart from that. Finally, Springtide entered and pushed the door closed with a soft shove of a hind hoof. A quiet clip-clop moved towards her nest but stopped before it got up close, followed by a weary sigh. A minute passed. She heard how the mare turned around again and moved over to her own bedding where she lowered herself down with a little thud.
After a while there was another sigh. “Brenda?” She gave no answer and just curled up tighter. “Brenda, I know you're awake.” Springtide's voice was soft but resigned. “I don't know what to think of you. I've never heard anything so ludicrous... but you don't have a reason to lie, do you?” There was the rustling of hay. “And I've also never seen my son so out of it.”
From above came the dull sound of intermittent hoofsteps on the thick floorboards, growing louder and fading again. Someone was walking in slow circles in the room above them.
Just as the heavy silence was becoming unbearable, Springtide spoke again in a voice that was little more than a whisper. “Give me some time.”
The light in the room became a little murkier still and Springtide's breathing eventually turned slow and steady. She wished she could follow her example, but sleep kept eluding her. The hooffalls from above didn't help. She needed to pee.
For a long time, she debated with herself if she even should go back inside or stay out in the cool night. Sleep wouldn't come anyway. What finally made her go back into the house was the thought of food. Of course no one had bothered with tidying up after the disaster, so the remains of the feast were still on the table. Her feast. There was no point in being miserable and also starving, so she might as well eat a bit, however little she felt like it. Would she even get anything like this again?
When she went back into the lobby, one of her hooves crunched on a piece of mortar, ripped out of the masonry when Dawn broke the door frame. She looked up the dark stairs. If anybody would have seen her first attempt at climbing the steps, there would have been questions right then and there. Maybe that would have been better.
It was still hard, even more so in the darkness. Twice she stumbled and almost slipped on a splinter. She wasn't sure why she was doing it or where she was getting the courage from. She needed to see Dawn. She needed to, even if only to get being thrown out of Stromness behind her.
With great care she pushed open the door that hung askew on its hinges. It made a pained, creaking sound on being forced to move once more. The room was dark and quiet. “Dawn?” she asked in a timid voice. Maybe he was asleep? She was about to turn around when there finally came a toneless answer.
“What do you want?”
“I want,” she began but broke off. “I... I don't know,” she forced out, her courage faltering. “I- I'll just leave. I'm sorry.” About to turn away, the tired voice in the darkness stopped her.
“For what?”
The words wanted to strangle her. “For everything. I messed it all up.”
There was the sound of Dawn turning around, followed by silence. His outline was just about visible before the window now.
“You'll send me away, won't you?” Silence. “Her name was Buidhe, no?” she tried, wavering, “Maybe she'll let me,” her voice finally broke, “Live with her tribe?” A last, desperate attempt against the continuing stillness. “No? Are there any others? I- I don't want to be alone.”
Dawn snorted. “Don't be ridiculous,” he dismissed her questions. Then, after another long silence, “There's something I need to ask you.”
Her heart still hammered in her chest. “Y...yes?”
“Do you like to graze?”
A nervous laugh escaped her. “What?”
“Grazing. Do you like it?” he asked again without a trace of humour.
Her laughter died as she began to rub her forehooves and fetlocks against each other. “I... uh... I guess? I'm a pony, no?”
“Yes, you are.” A pregnant pause. “So?”
“Only tried it once,” she squeaked. “Sorry! I mean. I mean, maybe with practice?” She realized she was sweating. “You know, weeds. Weeds and other stuff. And horses are selective grazers and I thought it would be instinctual but it isn't and... I'll try! I promise!” It was a very long time ago she'd last felt so ashamed and the lack of any kind of comment from Dawn's side made it worse by the second. “It was awful,” she finally forced out and hung her head.
He gave a noncommittal grunt and turned back to the window. “Father hated it. More than anything.”
She felt lost. What was she supposed to answer to that?
“Brenda?”
She could just make him out flicking his head when she didn't react. She swallowed. “Yes?”
The shadow of his left wing unfolded halfway. Going by the motion, he was pointing at a spot beside him.
She almost stumbled on her weak legs as she walked over to his side. A shiver ran down her spine when the feathers on the wing brushed against her coat as she sat down. She gulped, not daring to move any further in any way. From the corner of her eyes she watched him staring out into the reddish twilight. The sun was already beginning to climb into the sky again.
“Tell me,” he began in a whisper but broke off, shaking his head. Another stretch of silence followed, through which he seemed to calm himself before starting over in a low but steady voice. “How's it like for you then?”
“What?” she asked in bewilderment.
“Not having hands any more.”
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They need to explore Kirkwall
7488691 They should, yes.
I guess I will have to wait to find out what they find, and how they combat the dogs
Ah, here we go with the big reveal. Brenda is just a master of tact, isn't she?
Well, it seems like they have two reasons for a small war now - Buidhe's love life and Brenda's old trousers.
To battle!
7489443
Pfft.
I really liked this bit. It goes practically unexplained, but I'm pretty sure Brenda managed to hit on something that Scapa had said repeatedly, and Dawn's reaction here plays in very neatly to his later questions about grazing as a way of noticing the similarities between Brenda and Scapa.
7489634 You caught that one?
The line has indeed some significance in 'Dear Father', but Since it's not from Dawn's perspective, I couldn't spell it out any further.
7490520 It was rather hard to miss.
And it's enough of emphasis on it as it is.
*adds "stupid hooves" mention into his "List of Signs for an Easy Returnee Detection"*
7490942 Was it blatant enough to be bad then...?
7491302 No, it's a good link with the beginning of the story. And with Scapa himself. You did a great job of making his shadow loom over everything happening there while telling preciously little about him and his life. That increases the impact when those tidbits click with something (I really like how it's so easy to feel Dawn's emotions just from that, even with him not being the focus so we don't get the "insider scoop" of his thoughts).
This story needs more exposure. It's one of the more underrated ones I've seen lately.
7496578
Glad you like!
Well... that spiraled out of control quickly.
Anyway, lets go in order. I love your spread. I mean, seriously. Food for pony society is something I often muse about, and this banquet of yours just showcased your amazing skill at world and society building. The hoofwash was one of my personal favourites. That and the seaweed being used as seasonings.
I'll admit, I was wondering about Brenda's actions throughout the meal, seeing how they kinda set her apart as a transformee vs someone who just was out of touch. And Dawn has a quick mind and ken senses. He was noticing them just as much as I did. Her little breakdown was... I won't say unexpected, but also understandable. The little pony in her head got pushed aside by the little human again.
Dawn's snap, on the other hoof, was impressive. The guy really is an interesting character. He's got decent charisma and people skills, though more geared to reading (maybe manipulating) them than more direct interaction. He's also very smart, even by our standards. And unlike Moor he can apply his smarts in a more practical sense. Right! His Emotional Intelligence is relatively high to match his Traditional. The drilling of Brenda was a mix of mean and scary (for both involved).
Brenda represents so much... change for their society and what it was build on. You see it in Springtide's response. Her mate wasn't hiding anything. (Pff, as if.) Scapa might not... okay, totally wasn't the best of leaders, but he was still something they needed and his legacy (for all the bad it has) has resulted in a remarkably well established and sustainable society. I'm impressed they have kept the date system going properly. And that the language drift isn't that great. But now Brenda comes around exposing potentially shattering truths Scapa never revealed, and 'Chieftain and Chieftain-elect Only' level knowledge as well.
Dawn's freak out (despite spooking Brenda) probably stems from... well, that dread he's kept to himself for years and only just started to open up about. Scapa's lack of plans to go with his ideas and the haunting fact he knows there is a lot LOT more that they need and won't be able to attain. Also, imagining the... drilling Scapa must have put Dawn through with that information... Chosen One's life is difficult indeed.
Oh, and the budding forbidden romance that could be it's own political intrigue style love story between Solstice and Buidhe did not help matters at all.
Yes, I am going to pretend this isn't like half a year late. And for once I spelled Buidhe's name right on the first try!