Whatever Way the Wind Takes You

by kudzuhaiku

Chapter 4

From the journal of Gloomy August—

---

In the aftermath of the storm, the wind carried me further west. I saw the devastation first hoof. Much of the farmland was ruined, flooded, the rich black topsoil had been turned into terrible black mud. The Royal Guard and others were hard at work, and I got a chance to witness that as I flew towards the west coast, keeping my eyes on the Smokey Mountains in the distance as a guide. The storm of all storms had flown inland further south, crossing over the Whitetail Woods, the outer edge had grazed Ponyville, and the storm had drifted into the Unicorn Range.

I still don’t know how I feel about what I did. I felt something though, something I hadn’t felt the entire time I had lived in Ponyville. I felt like a pegasus again… it was a strange, wonderful feeling. I wish I knew more words and had a better way to express myself. It was like I rediscovered my wings and for the first time, I really appreciated having them. I guess there is a difference between being a pony with wings and being a pegasus. Is that silly? Maybe it is. Maybe I am a silly pony.

All my life, I’ve done what is safe and expected. Equestria is a big place, more than just cities, there are big sections of Equestria that are wild and untamed. At some point in my journey, I knew that I would go into the wilds, but I was still testing my wings. For now, exploring the west coast would have to do. As a pegasus, I could do in an hour what might take an earth pony or a unicorn days on hoof, crossing vast expanses of the countryside, gliding hundreds of miles in a day—all I needed was a good wind.

As luck would have it, I had a good wind. In the wake of the storm, there was plenty of wind. I drifted, sometimes north, sometimes south, but always westward, at least for now. I had no intention of crossing the ocean. Maybe I’ll travel down the coast, maybe I’ll go up. When I hit the ocean, I’ll have to make a choice.

What is life? You’re born, you grow up, at some point, you get a cutie mark. This mark lays out your whole destiny. My cutie mark is a bank of clouds with lightning bolts shooting out of it. I make rain clouds. That is all I can do. If I touch a cloud, it slips into a bad mood, turns black, and starts leaking. My boss, Rainbow Dash, calls upon me every Nightmare Night to fix her up a big black stormcloud so she can ride it around Ponyville, scaring ponies by kicking out lightning bolts.

Surely I was meant for more than this, right?

Life has to be more than a cutie mark, otherwise, what is the point? Why do we continue? To be honest, I’m sick of clouds. After that storm, I think I’m burned out on clouds. I can’t do what my cutie mark is telling me.

Ugh, I am a terrible writer. I don’t know what I’m doing in this journal either, other than making a mess of things. I just write down the words as I think them, giving no thought to how they should be arranged. I don’t have a writing cutie mark. I can tell you how clouds should be arranged. I can even super smoosh clouds into cloud-crete, the building blocks of the mighty pegasus empire. Are we still an empire? But these words are hard to put together.

I don’t know why I bother with these journal entries, no one will read them. They will sit on my shelf and I’ll grow old and nopony will care. My life isn’t interesting enough to have my journal sorted through and added as hoofnotes to our history.

Still, it never hurts to try. I am on an adventure after all. Something good is bound to come from that. I did find myself in a storm, and I did find out that one pegasus is better than no pegasus.

Maybe there is a life beyond your cutie mark. Maybe my cutie mark is what allowed me to brave the storm and save those colts. Maybe that was just the beginning, and maybe, just maybe, I am only just now living the life my cutie mark wants me to live.

If so, I owe it to myself to keep a journal, if only for my own benefit. It might be nice to go back someday and read about how much I’ve changed. Even if it helps nopony else, it helps me, and that is all the reason I need.

I feel much better, I think I am going to go and fly now. Thank you, nice journal. Somehow, you made me feel better.

Are you supposed to sign these things? I dunno, I’m still learning.

Gloomy August, Rain Specialist, First Class.

And now, an adventurer I suppose. Not much of a writer, but I keep trying.

---

Nestled in the Smokey Mountains, the city of Tall Tale glittered in the late afternoon sun. There were a few big buildings in the downtown, gleaming towers of silvery steel and glass. The other buildings were short, squat, and made of brick. It was a curious mix of old and new; some of the old brick buildings looked like factories, or at least, had been factories.

There were farms on the uneven, sloping land, the entire city was built upon the side of the hill. Much to Gloomy’s surprise, some of the ponies appeared to be farming trees, there were whole rows of trees in various stages of growth, all neatly arranged in perfect patchwork grids. A lot of the trees here were pine trees. Gloomy wondered as she flew closer to the city if Hearth’s Warming holiday trees came from here; after all, they had to come from somewhere.

Trees didn’t exactly grow on trees after all, Gloomy reminded herself. Wait, her internal dialogue said, something is wrong with that thought. Gloomy gave it some consideration, and after a few tortured minutes of overheating her brain, Gloomy was unable to determine what was wrong with her thinking. There was a beautiful city to see and thinking was stupid.

With luck, she’d find a cafe, Gloomy was starving.

---

What had once been big brick factories were now buildings filled with shops, cafes, and apartments. Main street was a tree lined avenue filled with ponies, wagons, and sidewalk vendors. There were quite a few ponies here, many of them wide eyed tourists just like Gloomy.

Old dirty factories had been repurposed. What had once been an industrial center was now a thriving downtown filled with tourists. Musicians played on the sidewalk, hanging out in doorways. A dramatic street theatre troupe was performing. A griffon was juggling, performing what looked like a dangerous act with knives… real knives. Gloomy gaped at the sight.

She stood, like so many others, just trying to take it all in. This was a wondrous place; Gloomy had no idea that a place like this existed, it was fantastic. Ponyville was downright boring compared to this place, except for maybe the frequent monster attacks, which kept things exciting.

An earth pony belched fire like a dragon, leaving Gloomy awestruck, wondering how an earth pony could do such a thing. He stood on his hind hooves and he twirled a flaming baton balanced on his front hoof. The flaming baton danced and the earth pony kept it moving with deft, skilled movements. He belched fire again, spewing out a massive plume of bright blue and purple flames.

The scent of food was almost overwhelming for the hungry pegasus… there was so much choice, so many options available, where did one even start? She tried to pull her eyes away from the fire breathing earth pony and failed. She watched his act for a little while longer and then, with a great deal of effort, she tore herself away.

Gloomy made her way to an empty bench and had herself a seat. She rummaged around in her saddlebags, digging, until she found her purse full of bits. She had a fair number of bits, but she had to make them last. She inhaled and took in the scent of fried onions. That did it. She tucked her bag of bits beneath one wing after closing her saddlebag. She lept from the bench, drooling, and followed her nose.

Her nose led her to a wagon… a chuck wagon that had a few tables nearby. A smiling unicorn looked down at her. He was greasy looking, and appeared to have gravy on his face and neck. Gloomy took that as a good sign. Gravy was good.

“Whatcha got?” Gloomy asked, grinning up at the unicorn.

“The locals call it the morning after platter,” the unicorn replied, “the less savoury sorts call it the puke platter.” The stallion, who had a deep voice filled with gravel, threw back his head and started chuckling.

“Hmm, what is it?” Gloomy blinked and then sniffed, drawing in the delicious scent of onions cooking.

“Well, first, I slap a big dollop of polenta onto a plate—”

“What’s that?” Gloomy asked.

“Polenta? Cornmeal mush… but good…” The stallion cleared his throat. “Anyhows, I slop a big helping of polenta onto a plate. Then I cover the steaming hot polenta with cheese curds. After that, I add onions, diced peppers, and mushrooms, which have all been fried in butter… frying stuff in butter makes everything better, see, I’m a chef and I went to school to learn these things, so it is safe to trust my opinion… and then I smother everything in spicy, peppery cream gravy. Then, for good measure, diced jalapeños from Appleloosa are carelessly tossed over the top of the mess.”

“Oh my…” Gloomy blinked a few times… jalapeños. She had never really tried spicy food, but she had heard of it. It sounded scary, and delicious. She shifted her weight from one set of hooves to another, almost prancing in place. She was on an adventure and she was supposed to be trying something new. This was something new. What was the worst thing that could happen?

“Five bits, Miss, price includes a big glass of pineapple punch.”

“Okay!” Gloomy opened her wing, dropped her bag, and with surprising dexterity, she kicked it with her front hoof, which made it soar through the air in a perfect arc. It landed on the counter with a clunk of coins. She tugged it open with her teeth, shook out the required bits, and then went through the trouble of stuffing it back into her saddlebag.

“Just have a seat, I’ll bring it out to you.”

“Thank you,” Gloomy replied.

The pegasus went and had herself a seat. She heard the sizzle of something in a skillet, it made her drool, it had to be one of the most wonderful things she had smelled in a long time. She was going to need more bits if she was going to keep sampling the local food.

Maybe a job?

Could she take a job in a strange place?

A temporary job?

Well, why not? her brain asked.

She had left home to have an adventure, to get away from work. She was supposed to be vacationing, having fun, and seeing the world. But a job would help you see the world, the rest of the world works too, what’s the harm in seeing what other ponies do? her brain suggested in a persistent sounding internal dialogue.

“Um…” Gloomy murmured aloud. Her brain was showing troubling signs of giving her ideas and it had ceased being the quiet, sleepy brain she enjoyed. Oh bother.

Saving ponies from a storm was hard work, and that wasn’t so bad, her brain said, filling her mind with thoughts. It was rewarding, hard work brings more than bits, it can help you find satisfaction.

It was hard to find fault in her brain’s logic; Gloomy had never been the brightest pegasus, perhaps her brain was right. Find a job, there had to be work here. “But no weather work,” Gloomy said to herself in a low whisper. She didn’t want other ponies to hear, they might think she was crazy if she was talking to her own brain. They wouldn’t understand how difficult it was to have a rebellious brain that kept offering up its own opinions and giving you ideas that you weren’t sure you wanted.

Reaching up, she undid the straps that held her bobby helmet in place, slipped it from her head, and set it down upon the table. It would be night soon, and Gloomy knew that she would need a place to sleep. With this being a tourist trap, she knew that she could find lodging, but it was probably going to be expensive.

All the more reason to get a job, her brain said, her internal dialogue sounding rather smug. Gloomy hated that her brain was right. This was going to be an expensive adventure. Her meager collection of bits wasn’t going to last very long at this rate. At least the wilderness would be cheaper once she started to explore it.

As she waited for her food, her brain betrayed her yet again and caused her to think of Warden Wormwood. She felt a warm flutter in her breast and a blossoming warmth in her cheeks. At least it was something that she and her brain could agree upon.

Author's Note:

Gloomy's brain is its own character.

Comments

[Scarheart]

When Kudz has a story. He has a story.

[kudzuhaiku]

6573345

???

[Scarheart]

6573350 I'm drowning in your stories! And I like it! *blurgmrglflarblarg!*

[Midnight Musashy]

6573370
Welcome to the life of a Kudzuhaiku fan.
acollectivemind.files.wordpress.com/2014/03/fanfiction-fanfiction-everywhere.jpg

[Miss Appolonia]

Mhm. Now I want pineapple punch. Or juice. Something pineapply.

[kudzuhaiku]

6574685

Lidsville.

I could roll an entire lid's worth of grass into one big bomber joint. I dunno, I still might be able to. Been a long time.

[TheBruteKiller]

Ooh man, I need more of this story. I like what is here so far.

[Raul]

The whole"From The Journal Of" makes it look like it's an excerpt from a history book or the likes.

And that place reminds me of The Pearl, except Factorys instead of a Brewery, and whatever culture they are compared to our little (okay huge) Texan-Mexican hybrid city.

[Boulder]

6573370 Am getting so far behind, feels like scuba depth.
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[Rainbowblitz]

Surely I was meant for more than this, right?
Life has to be more than a cutie mark, otherwise, what is the point? Why do we continue? To be honest, I’m sick of clouds. After that storm, I think I’m burned out on clouds. I can’t do what my cutie mark is telling me.

[MonolithiuM]

Life has to be more than a cutie mark, otherwise, what is the point? Why do we continue?

Flicker would do well to read Gloomy's journal. If she publishes it, that is. Could lead to some interesting character development for Flicker, methinks.