Chapter 20
Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled, and the first of the heavy rain began to pound upon the roof of the vardo. Sumac, unafraid, continued looking out of the glassless window, enjoying the cool, damp wind upon his face. When the lightning flashed again, the little colt didn’t budge, but continued standing with his front hooves resting upon the window sill.
“Look at you… so brave… the Great and Powerful Trixie is proud of her apprentice.”
The colt turned a bit, just enough to see his master out of the corner of his eye. “Proud?”
“You are now what… two years old?” Trixie leaned against the wall and made herself comfortable in her fold down bunk. “Most ponies are spineless, sniveling cowards… they frighten easy. A wild storm scares them. They’ve never left the safety of the cities… they’ve never seen nature in all of its powerful glory or majesty. They’ve only ever witnessed the nature they control and have domain over. Out here in the wilds, a pony learns just how weak they are, how insignificant they are. Only those who survive become great… and powerful.”
The colt’s ears stood up, and he did his best to listen to every word spoken by his master. His stomach rumbled, then squelched within his too-small frame. When lightning flashed again, Sumac’s short bobbed tail wiggled against his skinny backside while thunder rumbled through the valley.
“Sorry, Kiddo.” Trixie’s face was apologetic. “Not much food. The Great and Powerful Trixie, being a kind and just master for her apprentice, has given him the lion’s share. She is sorry that it was not enough.” A long, weary sigh escaped as she began rubbing her swollen foreleg, wincing with every touch. “Trixie is still impressed by how fearless her apprentice is, and that he isn’t hiding in a box or under his blanket.”
Tapping one hoof against the now damp window sill, he replied, “Kiddo likes storms.”
“Indeed!” Trixie nodded, still rubbing her bad leg. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has a Fearless and Funny Kiddo!” She smiled, a warm, sincere smile, and there was happiness in her eyes, at least for a time. When Sumac’s stomach growled again, her smile sagged and some of the brightness in her eyes faded. Once more she sighed, a wistful sound with the falling rain, and she kept trying to rub away the ache in her leg, brought about by the cool dampness.
“Tell you what, Kiddo… in the morning, when the rain is over, if it is over, we’ll both go outside and we’ll eat the grass. It’ll be tender and soft from the rain, and we can get our bellies full. Does that sound good?”
“Yeah!” Sumac’s head nodded up and down a few times, and then he returned to looking out the window, while Trixie continued to rub her leg.
“Do you remember this?” a voice boomed from everywhere and nowhere. “We think you do, Sumac Apple. You were at that age when memories form.” The words were punctuated by a terrific crash of thunder that made the whole wagon shake.
The little colt now looked scared, and his ears pinned down in fear.
“Know the truth of this matter, colt!” the voice bellowed while lightning flashed. “Two days before, Trixie Lulamoon had a choice! Purchase some of the medicated balm that brought her a small measure of comfort, or to buy you an apple. She bought the apple, leaving her without enough coin to buy her medicine!”
The colt whined, now panicked.
“LOVE, HONOUR, AND OBEY YOUR MOTHER!”
With a shrill squeak, Sumac bolted awake, and in doing so, he kicked Pebble right in the face. Pebble, not bothered by his feeble kick at all, not even in the slightest, woke up with a startled snort. Sumac, panicked, lapsed into a near-pant, and he shivered in the bed while Pebble tried to figure out what was going on.
“I want my mama!”
With a rough shove, Pebble got Megara moving, and then gave a simple command: “Nutmeg! Go fetch Trixie! Do it, now!”
Boomer emerged from beneath the blankets, bleary eyed, sleepy, and little curls of smoke rose from her tiny pinprick nostrils. She crawled along her belly, scrambling over Pebble, and then slid down the other side to land upon Sumac’s face. She tugged an ear once, and then began providing ear scratches with her tiny, dextrous fingers.
“Mama?” Boomer’s voice was squeaky, soft, and almost inaudible because of Sumac’s panting. It was cold in the room, and more than smoke trailed out with each breath she took. Now wide awake, Boomer coiled herself around Sumac’s horn, then pulled his soft, velvety ear around her head like a scarf.
A few eyeblinks later, Lemon Hearts came crashing through the door, bumping into it, and Trixie shoved her out of the way. Trixie suffered the same fate when Twinkleshine came stomping in, and behind the three mares, Pinny Lane towered over them all while she stood in the doorway. Megara slunk between their legs, avoided their stomping hooves, and rushed back to the cold bed, all while trying to keep the pads of her paws from touching the icy cold stone floor.
“Nightmare,” Boomer said, being helpful.
“Fronk… I was scared.” Lemon almost panted out the words and ignored Twinkleshine’s rising eyebrow. “Everything is fine… great fronkity fronking alicorns, this floor is cold!”
“So this is what Lemon is like when she’s not awake enough to run the swear filter,” Twinkleshine remarked, and this got her a rough shove from Trixie.
“All of you, go back to bed, I have this.” Trixie began to cross the room towards Pebble’s bed, with both worry and relief upon her face. At Pebble’s bedside, she paused, stood there, and then she kissed each of the little ones one by one. Lifting up the edge of the blankets, she crawled into Pebble’s bed—somehow managing to fit—and pulled Sumac close to her.
Boomer slipped back beneath the blankets, returning to her role as the bed heater, and Pebble scooted a little closer to Sumac. Megara, back in the bed, snuggled up against her sister, Pebble, and let out a ferocious-sounding feline yawn. In the doorway, both Lemon Hearts and Twinkleshine lingered, and behind them, Pinny Lane stood watching.
When Megara yawned again a second time, the watchers were gone.
The kitchen would soon be warm, but Sumac wasn’t waiting. He sat on the hearth, yawning, and if he was still troubled from last night, he showed no signs of it. Boomer was trying to hurry the fire along, blasting the logs with little gouts of flame to get them ignited. The colt yawned again, not realising how adorable he looked when doing it, and watched as Tarnish chopped up apples with a cleaver.
Pebble also sat on the hearth, and she was trying to brush her sister’s mane, though there was no success to be had in taming it. If anything, brushing it just added more body, and the cinnamony tufts of ruddy red hair stood out in defiance. Encountering resistance, Pebble gave a good hard yank on the brush, and this caused Megara to let out the most pitiful sounding yowl heard so far.
“No brushie brushie!” Megara whimpered as she tried to squirm away from Pebble.
“Well, how else do you expect to be groomed?” Pebble demanded.
With a terrifying feline suppleness, Megara twisted her body around in Pebble’s embrace, her neck turned in the most unnatural, most boneless sort of way, and then, without warning, she licked her sister’s face. For a moment, nothing happened, there was no reaction of any sort from Pebble, but then it registered just what had happened.
“Oh… YUCK!”
Megara gave Pebble a second lick with her rough, sandpapery tongue, going against the grain of Pebble’s pelt. This second lick was far more slobbery, started at the base of Pebble’s jaw, and ended with Megara’s tongue going into her sister’s ear. Eyes going wide, the chocolate brown earth pony filly trembled with disgust, but did not let go of her manticore spawn sister.
“Lick!” Megara said, somehow sounding haughty. “Not stupid brush. Brushie brushie hurts!”
“I feel gross,” Pebble said to anypony that might be listening.
“Pebble, don’t hurt your sister’s feelings. Now let her groom you in return.”
At the sound of Maud’s voice, Pebble’s head turned—a glistening bead of slobber rolled down her jawline while doing so—and she said to her mother, “I can’t tell if you are joking.”
“I can’t either.” Pinkie Pie, not quite awake, shrugged by raising both forelegs. “But it does seem fair. Now, Pebble, stop complaining and enjoy special sister slobber time.”
“No.” Pebble’s deadpan response was followed up with her turning her focused stare upon Sumac. She relaxed her embrace of Megara and something of a smile could be seen on her muzzle, but it was a terrible, awful, horrible, nasty, not good smile. “Megara, Sumac is a dirty colt… go help groom him.”
“What?” Sumac’s voice was a squeak of panic. “No!”
“Be gentle, Meg!” Pebble commanded while she gave her sister a shove towards the colt sitting on the hearth.
Megara’s upwards-pointing tusks gave her the most fantastic predator’s grin…
“Vinyl, quick, get the camera!” Tarnish paused in his chopping, eager to watch the live action nature documentary that was taking place in his kitchen. “Hurry it up, Vinyl!”
Sumac, unable to move away, let out a squeak of alarm when Megara pounced on him. It was like being hit by a pound of feathers, rather than a pound of bricks, but at least it wasn’t a pound of friendship, which Discord claimed weighed as much as five tons of flax. Megara growled, a sociable, ‘Hi, I am happy to see you!’ growl, but Sumac didn’t know that. As he was swept up in the manticore spawn’s fuzzy-wuzzy embrace, he gave his mother, Trixie, a pleading glance, but it was ignored.
Trixie had a great and powerful sleepiness to contend with still.
With a slurp, Megara licked Sumac’s face, and Sumac was powerless to stop her.
The cup of tea no longer steamed, having been cooled down with a generous splash of milk. A little honey had been squirted in, and Sumac was having what he felt was a grown up moment, despite his earlier misfortune and betrayal. Having tea always made him feel older somehow, more sophisticated, and he was always more self conscious of his foalish behaviour when there was a teacup in front of him.
During the hard times, the lean times, tea was special, a rare, welcomed treat. Trixie even recycled tea sachets, insisting that they were good for a couple of dunks. Hunched over his tea, the introspective little colt had a hazy recollection of his dream, but most of what he remembered was falling asleep in his mother’s embrace last night, with Pebble snuggled up against his back.
Glancing over at Octavia, Sumac tried to mimic her behaviour, without looking like he was mimicking her behaviour. He sat up as straight as he could, which was a struggle, and he adjusted his ears to get them at just the right angle. Grittish ponies held their ears in a different way, and Sumac did his best to emulate that.
Perhaps aware of the fact that she was being watched, or maybe having sensed it, Octavia sat up a little straighter, flicked her ears, and then she took a prim, proper slurp of tea. Savouring the quiet, Sumac continued his efforts to copy Octavia. Breakfast had too much hustle and bustle, too much noise, too many ponies all in one place, but this… this was just what he needed.
Sumac failed to notice that Vinyl was mimicking him, and was watching him with a near-manic gleam in her eye while she drank her Lady Grey tea. Vinyl, being Vinyl, ratcheted the act up to eleven, holding her lip stiff, and looking as snooty as possible. Still, Sumac failed to notice the quiet, subtle battle that was taking place between him and his master, an unspoken competition of who could out Octavia Octavia.
Slurping her tea, Octavia swallowed, let out a soft whicker of pleasure, and continued to stare straight ahead. Sumac too, slurped his tea, a loud slurp, even though it wasn’t necessary because his tea wasn’t steaming hot. Unbeknownst to him, Vinyl, looking oh so snooty and dignified, had crossed her eyes.
Something else Sumac failed to notice: the left corner of Octavia’s mouth twitching.
Octavia blinked her eyes, a posh blink indeed, and continued to ignore her companions. Sumac was still too busy staring at Octavia to notice that Vinyl’s eyes were crossed. The quiet calm continued, and Sumac remained oblivious to the danger lurking in his blindspot. There was only so much that he could do to try and copy Octavia, but to be really classy, Sumac realised that he needed a mustache. Yes, a well-waxed curlicued mustache was just what he needed to do this right.
A change happened, leaving Sumac confused, as Octavia leaned off to one side just a bit. Her sides expanded like bellows, and the muscles in her neck grew taut. What was she doing? Was she stretching? About to yawn? Sumac watched with keen interest, and then, much to his shock and dismay, he found out what she was doing.
Octavia let one rip in a way that only stocky, stolid earth ponies could. She did it while looking so serene, so dignified, and her stiff upper lip never softened. After about four seconds—it took time for his brain to process what had just happened—and the sudden realisation almost made Sumac drop his teacup. Creamy brown tea sloshed over the side of his cup and splashed down onto the table while he tried to recover his senses.
“Rude!” Vinyl cried, using Octavia’s voice. Then, without further ado, Vinyl put down her teacup, gagged, fell over out of her chair, and died. She lay on the floor in peaceful repose, her forelegs folded over her barrel, and her eyes were still crossed.
Saying nothing, Octavia kept calm, and carried on.
“I… I don’t… I don’t understand what just happened,” Sumac stammered.
In response, Octavia blinked, almost smiled, and she slurped some of her tea.
The absurdity of it all finally got to Sumac, and the colt began laughing. He relaxed a little, slouched, and ceased trying to be so posh. His was a quiet laugh, it didn’t disturb the stillness of the kitchen, and he was able to relax a little after being around far too many ponies for far too long. Glancing down at Vinyl, he regretted her sudden departure, and then had to look away because her crossed eyes were far too silly to bear.
“It’s hard, when the house is full of ponies, isn’t it?” Octavia asked.
“Yes.” Sumac’s response was soft spoken, and he relaxed a bit more.
“There is nothing wrong with a little ‘me-time-tea-time.’ This is how you cope with having a large family, Sumac. Well, that and communication. Maud knows I needed a moment, which is why she took Pebble with her. Everypony is now elsewhere, doing other things, and I have the quiet time I need.”
“Am I bothering you?” Sumac asked, and he could not keep the fear and worry from his voice.
“Goodness, no.” One graceful eyebrow arched, and Octavia sighed. “It was quite amusing, what you did. I hope that… when I have my foal… that we shall be able to have quiet moments of laughter together. I don’t know what they’ll be like, but I have a lot of hopes.” After a moment she added, “I hope I am not a boring mother. A lot of ponies… they don’t get my humour. Vinyl does. Sometimes, Sumac, a quiet chuckle is more meaningful. More satisfying.”
“I get that… actually.” Sumac nodded, agreeing, and he continued to ignore the dead albino unicorn on the floor. “I like these times we have together. I think you’ll be a great mom.”
“Why, thank you, Sumac… that is very kind of you to say.”
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Octavia wins this round!
And damn Belladonna, get out of Sumac's nightmares!
8282104
That wasn’t Belladonna...
8282110
Wild guess since they called it a nightmare. Otherwise Luna helping to keep Sumac on the straight and narrow, I imagine?
too
8282123
Nightmares can just happen, you know. My personal take is that it was some of the Ink splashing back on him, but I'm not married to the idea. (I mean, who knew of that moment? Sumac, Trixie, and the Ink. Who of those three knew what Trixie had done? The Ink... and Trixie. Hmm. Power leakage from Trixie?)
It could be any number of things. If we need to know, we'll find out. Trust your author.
8282143
Living in close proximity to Canterlot, Sumac got a strong, random burst of Luna’s magic. It should be noted that Luna had nothing to do with this particular dream. It is just the risk of living so close to the Night Lady.
See? Nightmares do just happen.
As an aside, it was a fairly touching scene. Also interesting that Sumac continues to be Fearless and Funny to this day.
8282204
So, the question that must be asked is: Would Sumac have been so fearless had he been raised in the city?
Did raising him during his most formative years in the wilderness have a positive, beneficial aspect?
8282208
I have to say that I don't think that he would have been as fearless if he were raised in the city. For fearlessness to grow, you need to be exposed to new and unusual things, and to learn that they are not to be feared.
Er, that they're safe.
Safe-ish.
Well, certainly you can hide from them.
That you can out-run them.
See? Perfectly <pant> safe.
Do you think that in the movies, the rainbow Changelings (or cast-away Changelings, like Stinkbug) would be actors? Since we're going to the big screen?
I'm sure that their fans would give them plenty of love of feed on.
Poor Sumac first a nightmare about choices parents make all the time.. Then a tongue bath by Megara and it sounds like there are pictures of the event
the scene with megara was the best thing I have seen yet, I wonder if she gets hairballs?
That's only fair.
This on the other hand is less fair.
images.discordapp.net/attachments/311201941222981632/333252970588143617/Vinyl_fluffed_to_death.jpg?width=574&height=619
8284098
That is funnier than it should be.
8284152 Hence why she is ignored.
8287240
Yup, but wasn't thinking of that.
... Until now.
If this isn't me...
Good gracious, Luna, what was THAT for?