• Published 22nd Aug 2016
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Stubborn Old Bones - WiseFireCracker



Youth is wasted on the young. Wisdom is wasted on the old. Jonathan was the former, then the latter, and now the former again.

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Tried and True

Another man or woman might have thought with some sentimentality of the dead ringer of their childhood home. They might have shed a tear over the beige facade of the house that reflected light just enough to appear shining, or over the dirt path pooling at the feet of the house, where one had played ball games with their friends, or even over the way the stems of wheat and oat seemed to wave like water at sea under the wind.

Jonathan, for his part, eyed the scarecrows in the fields and the plow resting against the side of the shelf, and his first thought was that his childhood home had not been so olden. And yet, the fields looked brimming with plant-like gold. Scare Crows nudged him, gesturing at the farm he had slavishly built with his own hands, and Jonathan was forced to tear his gaze away from the fields down the small hill they stood on top of.

“S'good work down there, son. Any hidden vice I should know of?”

The taller stallion laughed, his black hoof snaking around Jonathan's neck to bring him against his shoulder. “That? There's absolutely nothing wrong with it. It's perfect.”

Quietly, Jonathan admitted he didn't actually disagree.

The only shadow over the picturesque image of the farm was ironically a bright, thoughtless fairy-spirit-thing who had not stopped speaking since they had left the town hall.

“I am so proud.” Ma'am crooned in his ears, voice rich in mirth. “I did not think you could actually get hired with your attitude, Jonathan.”

She was definitely baiting him. Taunting him to get him to talk to empty air just so he would look crazy and change Scare Crows' mind. Not that it wasn't working and getting his old heart pumping, but at least he knew her game. He had invented the game!

Scare Crows led him down the path, with no resistance from Jonathan whatsoever. The two stallions trotted at a brisk pace, Scare Crows losing himself in explanations about the fields and the work that needed to be done. Something about the secondary crop needing harvesting quickly, before it grew past the best windows for sales and stockage.

Shame Jonathan only got one word out of two, what's with Ma'am's incessant buzzing in his ears. It figured that it was only once he had become young and frisky and hale again that he developed a hearing problem.

He waited until his employer had waved toward the farthest fields, all his attention on the crops on the hills. At that moment, he hissed, “Oh, good man, what is your wish?”

Ma'am froze still.

Jonathan kept on walking, and because he was just an innocent horse that did not know how to control an unfamiliar body he had just acquired through mysterious circumstances, he just so happened to slap the orb of light with his tail.

At least, that was what he told her later. All the while smirking.

Jonathan Taylor had also invented the poker face.

“Yeah, sorry about the flies,” Scare Crows said, his own tail flicking to slap away a large insect. “There's the Duck's Lake at the end of my fields, and there's some really fat bugs around. Just gonna have to bear with it.”

Ma'am turned a vivid shade of green, the drapes of light on her form sizzling. Oh, Christmas, you are here early this year, Jonathan thought.

“I am used to it,” he said, making every effort not to laugh. “That one's been following me all morning. A real pest.”

“Shame,” Scare Crows said with a shrug. “Usually, they aren't that obnoxious. Seems like they figured the rats and the pigs are easier targets.”

“A lot more fresh too,” grumbled Ma'am.

Jonathan paid her no mind, though his smile faded around the edges.

Fortunately, his new boss didn't seem to put stock in this, as he led them through a wooden arch at the bottom of the hills and past a large fence. “Alright, so, officially this time.” The stallion grinned proudly. “Welcome, Old Bones, to Crow's Wheat and Oat Farm.”

Jonathan had to love that boy's confidence. “Pleasure to be here, Son.”

“Good. So, we've got the sugar sweet oat in the Western fields over there,” – he pointed to a patch of solid golden fields near the hills – “while the acres near the farm itself are used for the three varieties of wheat. The oat is a newer addition, so it's not as diverse, but we'll be getting there eventually.”

“Slow and steady wins the race,” Jonathan said, nodding along.

Scare Crows turned a curious eye to his new employee. “What was that?”

“The saying. The tortoise and the hare?” At his boss' blank look, Jonathan felt old. “Youngsters these days… No appreciation for the good old classics.”

Scare Crows frowned, nonplussed. “Never heard of anything like it,” he muttered, rubbing his chin. “Could be a foreigner's thing.”

A fair point, though Jonathan kept his tongue in his mouth. It had been years since he had done this, indeed! Usually, he managed to be insufferable only after he had showed he was an irreplaceable worker. “Mhmm.”

In the end, Scare Crows shrugged it all off with a very unconcerned look. His hoof grabbed Jonathan's shoulder and pulled him around the front of the farmhouse. “Alright, so the red one over there in the fields is Pepper Seed. He's new, just a few months back, but he's good work. Then, the orange mare with the baskets is Harvest Season, my best worker. Been there since the beginning, or almost. Plow and Pull, good ponies, thick as thieves, a bit chatty though. Last but not least is Matron Apron inside the house. My only advice? Listen to her.”

Jonathan chuckled. Those were the words of a young man that had been beaten down by the right woman.

“You laugh now, but wait until you spend a few mornings in that house,” Scare Crows warned good-naturedly, misunderstanding Jonathan's mirth.

Far from him the idea of contradicting a venerable lady in her domain. That did not mean he could not imagine his boss getting pulled by the ear by a wrinkled old mare.

“I'm certain she is delightful,” he said, his tone light.

For a second, Scare Crows stared, suspicion in his eyes. He seemed to want to insist, to call out the lightly mocking tones piercing through Jonathan's voice. But he only shrugged, apparently thinking better of it. When one was being stupid, better to watch than get caught up in it. Words to live by.

Instead, Scare Crows pointed to a farm visible in the distance, past the hills of golden oat.

“There's also Flower Blossom, the neighbor. She comes to help once in a while when she's done with work on her parents' fields. Dunno if you'll see her today. S'been a busy season so far, and it's not like I pay her or anything.”

“But she comes anyway?” The tips of Jonathan's ears pricked. “No charge? No nuthing?”

Scare Crows did not appear overly concerned. “Said she likes the company of ponies not working for her parents. I've had no complaints about her so far.”

In his old experience, people didn't do such things for as simple a reason. Other horsies, he had seen in town. And none would require that she pull her weight to hang around. Jonathan filed that detail in a little corner of his mind. It would be a mystery for later.

“I see.”

“Alright!” Scare Crows clapped his hooves together. “You said you were ready to start at anytime. So I'm taking you at your words here.”

Walking with intent, Scare Crows made his way to a large bell hanging from the edges of the farm's front porch, and vigorously pulled the rope next to it. Its chime, low and loud, echoed well into the fields, where the working ponies paused, raising their heads from their works. Within a minute, they had arrived, carrying various tools.

The one called Harvest Season stopped right next to Jonathan, her impressive build towering over even Scare Crows himself. Within her clear blue eyes shone a quiet question for the smaller stallion.

Jonathan would rather focus on their boss. Whiffs of sweat and dirt had been added to the ambient farm smell, and the ponies that had brought most of it panted slightly, one leaning on the other's shoulder.

Two near identical faces, their smiles wide and showing slightly yellowing teeth to contrast their dirt brown fur. Two near identical hooves, pointed at Jonathan in comical synchronicity.

“So, who's the new kid, boss?” they said at the exact same time.

Jonathan's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. If that hadn't been practiced, he'd eat his socks. The next time he bought socks. Not that he needed socks now, it seemed. Regardless, he eyed the two stallions – twins, obviously – warily. He'd dealt with their kind before.

With a friendly grin, Scare Crows saved him the trouble. He stepped in the circle of ponies and designated Jonathan with a nod. “Everypony, this is Old Bones, your new colleague. He'll be helping out for the rest of the harvest season. And we'll see how things go from there.”

“Pleased to meet y'all,” he said courteously… then less courteously, “And for the record, I am not one of those bumbling and sniveling brat you think about, boys.”

“Might as well be,” grumbled Ma'am under her breath.

“Touchy much?” asked one of them. “Plow, I think this one is sensitive.”

The second twin tilted his head left, a light scar visible just under his chin. It was almost like a trick of the light, and the line near disappeared under the sly smirk on the colt's face. “Really, Pull?”

In the air behind them, Ma'am pulsing light turned a peaceful shade of cyan. “You know, Jonathan, I like those two.”

“Ah, ignore them, Old Bones,” Scare Crows dismissed with a wave of his hoof. “They like to hear themselves speak.”

The twins squawked in unison, in outrage much too intense for such a simple rebuke. The lack of comeback and their lazy grins indicated how 'badly' they had been wounded by their boss' oh so heartless words.

Scare Crows rolled his eyes. “Oh, dry your cragadile tears, you two. You're half the reason I can't find new employees.” Then, with a shrug, turned to the stallion on Jonathan's other side. “Anyway, I just wanted to make a quick introduction. Pepper Seed, how's the harvesting going in the west fields?”

The red stallion who had been till now perfectly silent perked up at his employer's question. “Great, boss. We'll be able to sell extras to Canterlot at this rhythm.”

“Perfect. I'll come with you and start the packaging, whilst the rest of you finish up on your tasks.”

The large mare lifted a hoof as thick as a trunk, like a schoolgirl before a teacher. “Crows...” Her gaze had not left Jonathan yet.

“Harvest, you're in charge. Just give him the… ” He put a hoof to his chin, then eyed Jonathan with a sideways glance, grinning. “Think you can take care of the applesian oats today? It's just a sniping job, the fourth section in the East to ease yourself into it today. Should be enough for your big stallion talk, right?”

Starting easy? No way he could do that. He had to establish dominance quickly amongst the rabble. “Please,” Jonathan drawled, “I'll have the whole field done by tomorrow.”

Scare Crows barked a laugh, dragging Pepper Seed along the way. The black stallion raised a hoof in the air, in what Jonathan confusedly thought might be a bizarre equine version of a thumbs up.

A fresh wave of heat hit Jonathan straight in the face, which he would deny having anything to do with this 'blushing' thing he had heard about. That was a boogeyman created by youngsters with too much time in biology lessons. Some things you didn't learn about in books. Or TVs. Or Internet.

Lips pinched, he turned to the towering mare and met her gaze head on.

She was not impressed. “Do you even know how to work on a farm?”

It was enough to set Jonathan off. He had said he could do it. Just in front of her, less than a minute ago. Yes, yes he could. Better than they had ever seen. And ah, hadn't he ever told them the story of the time he had saved his great-uncle's harvest from a swarm of rats and foxes? They sold three times as much as any other year they could recall in living memory after he had taken charge.

“We've met less than five minutes ago,” the bulky mare deadpanned. “And we're not interested in chatting. No time for that here.”

“Speak for yourself!” shouted Plow. “This colt's fun!”

Jonathan's lips pinched at the mention of 'colt'. He wasn't that much of a snot-nosed brat now. Still, he let it slide. Those youngsters did not know any better. But they would learn in time. And then they would rue the day they made this mistake.

“Well, I was hired to work, so that's what I'm gonna do.” He trotted past the twins, after Harvest Season. He tried very hard not to smirk at their simultaneous looks of indignation and bafflement. “Lead the way, Miss.”

Harvest's next grunt sounded vaguely approving. Vaguely. Now Jonathan was getting flashbacks of his sister. Surely, her ghost wouldn't haunt him even in this land of magical horsies? Right? Oh, what was he saying? She'd go through hell to torment him.

...He kinda missed her.

Luckily, Harvest was not a mare to tolerate much in the way of daydreaming and lost thoughts. After leading him through a dirt path in-between rows of orange-tinted wheat, she pointed straight at a much more barren part of the fields, on whose ends a large plow laid abandoned.

“That's the reaper,” said Harvest with an even voice. “It ain't too hard to use. Just pull it in between the rows, not too fast so the wheat falls in the baskets. Only problem is it's a tad heavy. Just strap it right and it'll be fine. Shouldn't be trouble for you though, right?”

“Right,” Jonathan agreed reflexively. He felt a tad feeble for a horse, too thin around the barrel and the knickers, maybe. Still a bit coltish around the corners. On the other hand, weak for a horse was pretty freaking strong for a man. “Walk down the rows, pulling that thing. Seems simple enough.”

That 'thing' was only the strangest contraption. Sure, it had the usual parts of a plow. A good, traditional, well-made plow. The thing of his childhoods. Except for the scythes on each sides. Rotating scythes, he would wager, not unlike the more modern trucks he had seen in the fields a few years back. And a box for a cargo behind. What Devil's machine was that?

For a very short moment, he was tempted to ask the Ma'am if she had had anything to do with it. But his coworkers would think him crazy instead of annoying. That was a fine line that he was not going to cross. Yet.

“Ain't it a bit late in the season for a whole new crop though?” he asked as he trotted toward the reaper.

“Nah,” answered a twin – Pull – in passing, “with an extra earth pony, I bet we can make it all bloom before any of the scheduled frost.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. Kids. Always thinking of the best case scenarios. Probably never had to deal with an early frost in their life. An extra person on the job wasn't gonna make the plants grow faster. But well, he had been hired to do it, so he was gonna. They'd learn eventually.

“Pull, just finish up the fifth and sixth rows,” Harvest ordered. “Plow, you're with me. We got to finish up the rolls before dusk. Bones, just get going with the reaper. No time for dillydallying.”

He had no plans to. Just got to put on that harness first. Which, now that he was left alone with, he could admit to being a bit nonplussed. Not that he had never used one of these! But, and that thought he kept quiet lest his guardian angel divine it, it had always been on the other side of that harness. The beginning of a shiver tickled the base of his spine.

“Harvest Season is watching you from the corner of her eyes, you know?”

Jonathan clamped down on his shocked reaction so hard that he went perfectly still. So perfectly still, so abruptly, that a nerve in his left shoulder pinched and he bit down on a curse.

“I knew that,” he boldly lied.

Pure white dust drifted from her illuminated form, a handful of which landed on Jonathan's muzzle. “Oh,” she said, chipper, “I thought you didn't. Because you're supposed to be working right now and you said you knew all about this kind of work.”

Jonathan scoffed. With uneasy bow, he lowered his head to the loose straps of… leather? Nay, didn't look right, but the material seemed mightily similar. Maybe one of those chemical artificial thingy those peoples made in labs. Whatever it was, it didn't itch as bad as he thought it would. Might be the fur. With a snort, he pushed his head, then his front legs through the loop and grabbed the straps on each side of him.

Had to tie it around his midsection somehow though. At least he could grab things with those weird stumps of flesh they called hooves, so he would not question it. Dexterity was another problem entirely however.

After a few moments of useless flailing, Jonathan bit down into the straps and pulled until it near drove the breath out of his lungs. Should be enough, he thought with a wince. Right, back in the days, how did they fixed the belts around the horses again? Shoulders too. Right. Right.

Jonathan sent a quick prayer in sympathy to the horses he had worked with for years. This was really a mess, cumbersome as hell. Oh well. Time to work.

The tense straps attached to the plow got in the way. More precisely, of his left hind leg. Jonathan's reflexes, a lifetime of honed reactions failed him on account of being useful for bipedal beings. With a complete lack of grace, he landed face first in freshly turned soil.

“I see your years of experience have served you well,” commented Ma'am. “I'm impressed.”

Judging by the snickering coming from the next field over, so was Pull -- or Plow. Muffled growls rose from beneath the ground, and with a jerk, Jonathan extirpated his head from the Mother Earth.

“What was that?” Ma’am asked.

Spitting out a glob of mud, the dirtied stallion shot an equally dirty look to his immaculate companion. “I said 'Bite me, you insufferable firefly.'”

“I'm incorporeal.”

“Just shut up and let me work.” He warily pushed forward, feeling the plow behind him bite into the soil. A familiar noise of ripping ground followed for the first few steps. “Okay, that should be good. Now, the rows…”

They waited patiently for the reaper’s coming. A path of dirt separated the stems of wheat at just the right length to allow a pony pulling a plow to pass. When rows of wheat shadowed him on both sides, Jonathan smirked and rolled his shoulders. Time to work!

For a blessed hour, Ma’am did leave him to his own device. Perhaps she sensed that he would ignore her. Perhaps, even, she had a smidgen of decency left in her after all and didn't want to distract him while he struggled with pulling that darn plow through the hard soil. It was good work. Good, honest work, and he had to fight a grin whilst sweating like a pig under the sun.

Every little snip of the scythes sounded like music to his ears. Every stem of wheat that fell in his baskets, like a year shaved off his birthday count. If not for his current status as a farm animal, he might have imagined hearing his cousin's voice as they worked the tobacco fields.

His coworkers called after him every so often, with things like “You okay there, old timer?”, for which he had elegant and thoughtful insults readily prepared. So what if they asked when he seemed to be panting hard, struggling against a particularly stubborn block of earth or bundles of wheat? He'd had worse.

Those little hurts? Nothing. They were nothing. His sides had friction burns. His legs felt a little numb. S'all. Not painful. He could go on for hours still.

Right as he turned though, his hoof hit something solid, and he was sent sprawling on the ground, again. This time, however, he found it hard to lift legs that weight five times what they used to. It was as if every second of the last hour had returned flooding to him, with every hint of hurt flaring up until he bit back a low growl of agony. Each breath made him wince, the straps digging too deep into his sides. Should have loosened the damned thing an hour ago.

As he pawed at the straps, another pair of hooves suddenly slid under his neck.

Black fur and dark blue eyes moved in his sight. “Wow, you alright there, Old Bones?”

Scare Crows? When had he arrived here? Damn it, now his boss would think he was just a greenhorn, or some other idiot full of hot air. And deep inside, a part of him flinched, bruised at the thought of such an idea.

Weakly, panting, he smiled. “A bit… tired… s'all…”

“Colts,” scoffed Harvest Season, and Jonathan blinked, rolling his head back to catch but a hint of her mane at the very edges of his sight. “Can't pace themselves for the life of them.”

“More like the harness was improperly tightened.” Scare Crows glared at the loose strap, and Harvest Season had the good grace to look away. “You could have checked.”

“He said he knew it all,” the mare protested. “If it was so bad, he could have just said so.”

A fair point in Jonathan's book. His idiocy, his consequences to deal with. Though, judging by the frown on Scare Crows' face, that excuse wouldn't fly. Not very far, at least.

“Give me…” He panted, his lungs refusing to waste air on words.

“Yeah, just take a minute there, Old Bones.” Scare Crows pulled him up in a near sitting position. Pepper Seed placed something black in his employer's outstretched hoof. With a twist of his teeth, Scare Crows uncorked it and tipped it to Old Bone's lips.

Water splashed down his throat, cool and smooth against his dry mouth. For a precious few seconds, Jonathan forgot all about his protests and let the liquid sooth the inside of his mouth and throat.

“Better?”

Jonathan burst out laughing. Better? He could see past the tip of his nose! Of course he felt great! “Son, I haven't felt this well in decades!”

He could work again. He could push through the pain without tubes in his veins and pills in his mouth. He could carry the world on his shoulders like he had, back in the days. Though maybe this time he would let someone else carry the world once in a while, let the youngsters pull their weight and all.

The last time he had had a good sweat like this, he had been climbing up the stairs of a retirement home. For once, he would not have begrudged an elevator, but no. Darn machine fell into ruins every other week.

“Maybe you ought to start with something a little less demanding,” Scare Crows said.

The skin under his fur prickled. “No, son.” He frowned and pushed himself back on his hooves, ignoring the trembling of his legs. “I'm going to do this. I said I could, and I will.”

A surprisingly strong black hoof kept him firmly in place.

“Look, Old Bones, it's fine if you need a bit of time to learn the ropes. Nopony's good on their first try. Hay, I'll just call Plow over and get him to help you.”

Just take it easy, Mr. Taylor. Always taking it easy. Always… always so patient, so understanding! As if they weren’t slowly pushing him into his grave! Jonathan's word came fervently, harsh, so solid as to be made of stone. “When you make a promise, you keep it. It doesn't matter at all if there are easier things to do.”

The hoof was brushed aside as if it had never been there. A few staggering steps led him to the harness, to the straps.

“You said you needed this done for tomorrow. Well, give me until tomorrow. I already promised you, it'll be done.”

There was a snort from Harvest Season, grumbled words, but none that Jonathan could catch. Besides, in that moment, she could have started dancing the salsa with a thirty mariachi band for all he cared. His gaze had been fixed on his boss, and nothing else could have distracted from him.

From the doubt that shone in the stallion's eyes, from the twitches of doubts that flickered on his face, from the nervous flick of his pitch black tail.

“… Alright, Old Bones,” Scare Crows said, halfway between a sigh and a chuckle. With a shake of his head, he sent a strand of his fringe aside, and gave Jonathan a long hard look. “I believe you. You've got until tomorrow to finish the fourth section. Inside the red flags. That's all I'm asking.”

And Jonathan was left alone. Farmwork generally did not allow for idle moments, and today was not disappointing.

None of them noticed the smirk beginning to pull at their new coworker’s lips.

“Jonathan, this is not a good idea.”

She had almost sounded concerned. That alone should have given him all the indicators that the games were over.

His eyes stayed transfixed by the loose harness straps lying on the ground. “Ma'am, you said I had been a good man, back before old age got to me, didn't you? How did you know?”

The spirit's light wavered akin to a shiver, but her chime-like voice didn't ring to his ears again. How, indeed, could she have known, without seeing it for herself?

“You were watching, weren't you?” Silence answered him. “Then stay there, and watch me.”

“This is stupid. You're being stupid.”

“Gave my word,” he huffed.

Light near blinded him as it came to him in a flash of frazzled veils. “Why, Jonathan?” Her voice hitched up, and a wave of cold washed over Jonathan's fur. “Why would you do it so stubbornly? Why does it matter if you can't do it all on your first day?”

“Because when you have nothing more to your name than your words, you better make sure they're damn good words, Ma'am! I said I could do it in one day and that’s what’s going to happen.” He really was a youngster now, wasn't he? Back home, he wouldn't have wasted his breath on this. But he did, and his words jolted with every bump in the soil, every pull back from the harness. “When you realized you'd misjudged me and my wish was different, did you just leave without fulfilling your promise?”

The sphere of light floated aside, as if letting him pass. She wanted to speak. But she had enough integrity not to.

“No. 'Course not. It's the same thing. When you make a promise, you keep it.” He huffed, grunted as he pushed past another bump. “S'why I can respect you.”

“You are not acting respectful toward me.”

“You first,” he deadpanned.

Ma'am made a sputtering sound, then a hiss of frustration. Those precious few moments, he used to breath a bit deeper. He really ought to stop talking, but now that he had started, he found it hard not to keep going. When was the last time someone actually listened to him and his crazy ramblings?

“My point, Ma'am, is I'm not stupid. But I'm not that kind of bright either. The youngsters that have that spark, that little plus in your head that makes you damn creative? I'm not that. Never have been. But that didn't stop me from doing something with myself. And it started with me being stubborn as a thousand mules.”

“That's actually considered very offensive here, Jonathan.” At the stallion's raised eyebrow, Ma'am added, “the part with the mules. They do not appreciate that stereotype.”

“Well, I'll apologize when I meet a thousand mules then.”

Ma'am scoffed, but to Jonathan, it had sounded as if she had been holding back a laugh.

“Point is…” Jonathan grunted as his harness tonked against a bump in the field. “Darn machines! Can't even do their jobs properly! Ah, what was I even saying? Oh, yes, the point… the point is that you only have one chance to start from the ground up.”

“This is your first day on the job, Jonathan. Ponies are not an unforgiving sort.”

“But I am,” he said with a frown. “I look myself in the mirror every morning, Ma'am. Never had trouble with it, even when I was starting to go blind at the end. I'd like to keep doing that, especially when I have eyes this big.”

Thoughtful silence followed. A breeze from nowhere shook the edges of the scythes. “Your first day, Jonathan…”

“If you allow yourself one step, what's the reason for refusing yourself a second? One step is one step. And you can go very far, one step at a time. Trust me, I know.”

Jonathan paused but for a second, massaging his aching neck before shaking his head and going back to pulling the reaper.

***

Scare Crows had come blathering around dinner time. Something about Matron Apron, a hot meal, and some other nonsense about taking a break. He'd done enough. It would count as a good first day in Scare Crows' book.

Jonathan had looked at the wheat still standing within the red flags' territory. “Nah. I'm almost there. I've got some more to do. Just send someone to bring me some water if you're that worried.”

Pepper Seed had come ten minutes later carrying a bowl of porridge and a flask of water.

“Thanks, son,” he had said tersely. “Soon as I'm done…”

The red stallion had merely stared, as if Jonathan had been a strange enigma wrapped in a particularly puzzling mystery. “The boss says you have to stop working when you can't see in front of your hooves. Doesn’t matter how far along you are then.”

And the rest… the rest he barely remembered. Just the same pull, the ache in his legs, all four of them. Filtering out Ma'am's comments throughout his time working. The dull curtain of his memories, failing. His cousin's words, most of them lost to time.

So on, so on, until…

“Old Bones!” rang a familiar, manly voice. “How long have you been out there?”

In the early morning light, a black stallion's fur glinted with an almost blue tint. And in a field of gold and pale orange, one could see him coming from afar. Enough time to at least straighten up a bit, and it was good that he had bothered with it. Scare Crows arrived galloping, eyes wide, slightly panicked and worried.

“Hmm, you're up early,” Jonathan grumbled. “Good. Early bird gets the worm. Lazy rabbits get eaten. Something like that.”

His legendary wit failed him. Thoughts floated in shambles inside his head, blurred by the fog of his fatigue. He attempted to massage his forehead, blink away some of the sleep, but he only manage to smack himself in the face with his damnable hooves. At least he was a bit more awake now.

“I thought Pepper Seed told you…” His jaw dropped as he realized his mistake. “You… It was pitch black all night!”

“I have my ways,” said the young old stallion, a lopsided grin on his face

“You…” And words failed him as he glanced around them both. “You did the rest of the western field too.”

“Did I?” The grin grew. “Well, my old eyes aren't what they used to be. Hard to tell the difference in the dark.”

“How…? You couldn't even adjust the tools yesterday. And it's all packed correctly too!”

In other circumstances – merely him being able to think and breath –, Jonathan would have launched into a long tirade about the virtues of bullheadedness. As it was, he settled for a much easier, “I said I would do it.”

Scare Crows flinched. For a split second, his eyes darted to the ground, to his hooves nervously pawing at the dirt road. Warring ideas raged beneath his impassive mask. “Yeah. You did. It's just…” He gestured helplessly to the piles of sorted wheat.

Jonathan would analyze that reaction later. Perhaps sometime when his legs weren't on the verge of giving out. “I'm a man of my word.”

Scare Crows' face blurred. Tilted. Then clear again, and beige fur rubbed at the young old stallion's eyes. His eyelids stuck together, heavy, stubborn, before he outstubborned them and gave a long hard look to his boss.

“You need sleep,” said Scare Crows, and it was a tone that brokered little arguments. The same kind that pissed off employers used toward employees on the verge of getting fired. Out of a canon. Into the sun.

“S'not sunrise yet.” Jonathan vaguely pointed toward the horizon, smiling. “I've got time for a nap. Then I'll be right as new for another day of hard work, boss.”

Without another word or thought, he trotted up to the broad side of the barn, found a patch of grass and dropped down. He was snoring before he had closed his eyes.

Comments ( 17 )

Meh, the farm workers are a bit too cliché so far. I hope you'll give them more depth. Same with the lead character now that I think about it. He is fun, but I'm starting to feel as if the story is outlasting the gag.

I did like all these moments where Jonhathan got confused by the pony way. To us reader that know, it ended up being a lot of fun.

Anyway, it was nice reading from you once again! And once more, I'll forward for your next chapter!

It is interesting to see this style of writing emphasizing more on the slow piecing of the story and the atmosphere. Bone is an interesting character, with his hard bitten spirit and his tenacity makes it. The part where he feel that he has to prove himself to other again, despite that he feels that he all ready feel that he doesn't need to prove himself, with his sheer stubbornness is interesting. And it is not something that we see very much form a main character either.
What I am not sure about the story is that I don't know in what direction it is going exactly. He doesn't have any real objectives to accomplish or overcome other then living out his new life as he see fit. For now the only objectives that himself the only obstacle that I can see for the Bones is the one that he has set up for himself of doing his job better then the others. I am wandering what he will be aiming for in the long run. It can be sort of a turn off if there aren't any personal stake for him if he fails, but I am sure you will find a way to make things interesting later on.

YAY UPDATE!!!! WHOOOO!! Didn't think that this story was going to go for so long without a chapter. Keep up the great work, and get some rest. It's midnight.

That was hilarious.

He is an old grandpa to a level that it's almost a superpower at this point, damn I love it.

I loved reading this chapter, it was awesome:rainbowkiss:

Keep up the good work, I can't wait for the next part:twilightsmile:

7925108 Well, their introduction is not where I'm going to put all the depths. If depths there are. As for Jonathan himself, I kinda get what you mean, but it's not particularly meant to be a gag in itself. There are certainly moments when I want to make it comedic, but it's mostly a character trait, I'd say. He's gotten decades of hardening his ways of thinking, they won't get flexible all over again so easily. Still, thanks for reading, hopefully, you'll like what's in store next.

7925121 There is a contradiction there, isn't it? He does not think he needs to prove himself to others. But he has to prove himself to himself. The only person you live with your whole life is yourself. From beginning to end, so you better be able to stand being you.

He doesn't have any real objectives to accomplish or overcome other then living out his new life as he see fit. For now the only objectives that himself the only obstacle that I can see for the Bones is the one that he has set up for himself of doing his job better then the others.

This is a slice-of-life story. And you're also right about the second part, he is the only obstacle to his own happiness, so far. Consider this, why is Ma'am still around?

7925157 Yeah, sorry, I'm just not always getting lots of occasions to write these days.

7925664 Thank you.

7927328 That is precisely what he is, except for the grandpa part. You think Jonathan could have ever had children?! Youngsters of his flesh and blood?!

7928481 Thank you. I'll do my best.

He reminds me of my grandfather. Stubborn with a sharp tongue.

7934939

You think Jonathan could have ever had children?! Youngsters of his flesh and blood?!

Well yeah, he's exactly the type of person you'd imagine when thinking of a cranky grandparent; it'd make him even more tragic too, given he mentioned that he'd outlived every family member he knew.

Enough of that though, I loved this chapter and I cannot wait to see how this one pans out.

7935423 Mine as well. He was so stubborn he held off a force of 3,000 Japanese on a small island in the Philippians with just a small force of a few hundred. He lead every charge to drive them back and fought so hard he earned 2 Purple Hearts, 2 Silver Stars and 3 Bronze stars. The Japanese commander who surrendered to him in another battle was so impressed with how hard he'd fought, he presented my grandfather with his family katana, which we still have.

7925121 it's slice of life, it doesn't have a sure end, the point is the journey.

7938555 The thought of you anywhere near a katana strangely fills me with dread. I couldn't explain why. Maybe because you're you.

7945180 It's got this weird demon dude in it who talks to me at night... :pinkiecrazy:

But he speaks in Japanese so I have no idea what he wants. :derpytongue2:

Besides, what's so scary about me with a katana?

You should be MUCH more terrified that I work in a transgenics laboratory. Heading my own... experiments... :pinkiecrazy:

AMAZING. FUCKING BRILLIANT

Ok. Three things.
1: How long is the average pony lifespan for this fix?
2: He should explain his situation to the rest. I am sure if he points it towards magic being the cause they would understand. As this IS magic pony land.
3: Explaining how old he was before he came to equestrian nd describing his life would tell the rest all they would need to know about their new co-worker.
And before someone hates on me, they need to realize that this is also magic pony land. They likely won't turn him away if he tells them the truth, and again would more likely attribute his travel and changes to magic shenanagins on their own anyways.

9519969 (Alondro still stands upon his exalted pillar of radiance, surrounded by cherubs and seraphim eternally serenading his majesty... at least that's what he sees. In fact he's in an alley in Philadelphia, trippin' balls from laboratory chemical fumes while standing on a pile of crates while homeless people scream at the walls around him.)

:pinkiecrazy::pinkiecrazy::pinkiecrazy:

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