Strawberry Serenade

by AugieDog

2: Stems

The roll of thunder twisted Sunrise's ears when she was still a mile outside Appleloosa's city limits sign. Not that anything about this tumbleweed-infested dust bowl resembled a city, of course, though she would've been happy to talk for days about the limits of the place.

"Storm coming up," the latest farmer to refuse her generous offer had said as she'd stepped out his back door to shake the dust of the cabin from her hooves. Yes, his wife had told her she could stay the night, but by that time, she'd had enough of this entire part of the world and all the ponies in it.

"Thank you," she'd said, showing her teeth in an expression she'd been certain the bumpkins would mistake for a smile. "But strawberries take well to damp conditions." She'd left them one of Roan's cards in case they changed their mind and had started back along what they called a road in the direction of what they called a town.

Lightning forked through the black above, and the thunder this time followed almost immediately. The intervals between flash and rumble had been shrinking for the twenty minutes or so that she'd been walking, and she'd been walking the whole time because the turbulence had been increasing. Growing up in an earth pony family, she'd never really felt the need to take flight training all that seriously; she hadn't done any sustained flying, now that she thought about it, since pitching in with Ponyville's other pegasi to help raise the water from Highland Reservoir to Cloudsdale two years ago...

She shifted her shoulders under her saddlebags. With the way her luck had been going since arriving here, she wouldn't be at all surprised if she was equally distant from the town and the nearest farm at this point. Which of course would mean that—

A raindrop splashed against the tip of her nose, and Sunrise closed her eyes. Just keep walking. What was the worst that could—?

The lightning and thunder hit simultaneously, a fiery explosion that frizzed her mane and tail and sent her jumping right off the ground. Spreading her wings, she landed easily enough, but that was when the sky opened up, water crashing down over her like a vertical flood; she barely had time to take a breath before the dirt beneath her hooves became mud, the mud flowing and making her slip, her flailing legs suddenly finding nothing but liquid in every direction. "Waaahh!" she shouted—or something equally dignified, she was sure—and then she was falling, tumbling, sluicing away in the cold and the wet with no up or down anywhere.

Struggling just seemed to spin her faster and in a wider variety of directions, but then she felt the solid downward pull of gravity, her jangled sense of balance clearing just in time to tell her she was plummeting sideways off the edge of something.

Reflexively, she tried to flap, to slow her fall at least if she couldn't get airborne, but the air around her was more water than anything else; all she managed to do was slue herself around so that, when she smashed down into the actual water, she hit with her chest instead of her flank.

That let her churn her legs, though, and that kept her head up in the part of the atmosphere that was partially breathable. And since she could breathe, "Help!" she shouted, sure that nopony was anywhere within five furlongs of—

"Hang on!" a baritone voice called from ahead. Something yellow and vaguely pony-shaped seemed to waver out of the darkness above her, something yellow and thin swirling around it. "I'm gonna try lassoing you!"

The thin something lashed out from the pony-shaped something, and Sunrise reached for it, felt a twist of rope tangling her forelegs while the river or whatever she'd fallen into tried to spin her away. She wasn't about to let that happen, though, so she tightened her grip, flapped her wings faster, kicked her hind legs, and yelled, "I've got it! Pull!"

The rope cinched around her elbows and wrenched her upward, Sunrise wincing as her stretched shoulders and her frantically pumping wing muscles twinged simultaneously. Gritting her teeth, she didn't even try to guide herself, just tried to make herself as light as possible and trusted the pony hauling her in to—

The motion of the rope hitched, and Sunrise plowed face first into what felt like a mountain of mud. Sputtering, she pushed away with her hind legs, her forelegs still clinging to the rope, and heard that voice call out, "You okay, buddy?"

She spat out enough of the slop to shout, "Just pull!" And the next thing she knew, she was jerked out of the pitch-blackness into something grayer and more open, the heave of the rope a sideways thing all of a sudden. She wasn't ready for the shift, of course, nor did the yokel who'd grabbed her seem to notice that she'd cleared the lip of whatever cliff she'd been washed over. He kept pulling, at any rate, and she kept flapping; she just barely had time to realize what was about to happen when they smashed into each other.

"Ooof!" he grunted, folding under her like cheap patio furniture. Sunrise thought she might've said something similar, but she was too busy grabbing hold of the first solid object she'd been near in the last several minutes. He felt very solid, too, warm even through the yellow rain slicker he was wearing. His forelegs closed around her, held her nice and firmly, and his little gasp of breath was followed by a chuckle. "Well, now. Mighty pleased to meet'cha, ma'am."

Which made the cold flood back, and she pushed away as much as she could without actually letting go. Sure, she was in no condition to stand on her own, but that didn't mean she had to lie there and let this hayseed paw at her. "And I suppose," she managed to squeeze out between chattering teeth, "you've got some hovel nearby you'll be hauling me to so you can have your way with me?"

"Ma'am?" She could just make out his face through the continuing downpour, a face more rounded than chiseled, something coltish about it even though the pony beneath her was definitely a stallion. He blinked eyes that could've been blue or could've been green: she couldn't tell in the darkness. "I'm with the Appleloosa night patrol!" he called over the rush of the rain. "We help ponies when they're in trouble!"

The cold that flooded Sunrise then had nothing to do with the weather; her face heated up, though, as the stallion went on: "We've got an emergency shelter just over yonder!" He jerked his chin to her left. "'Tain't much, but it's got walls and a roof, blankets and a stove!" He moved under her, somehow twisted and slid till he was rising to his hooves with her draped over his back. "You hang on, ma'am, and I'll get us there lickety-split!"

"Fine." She hesitated an instant before moving to wrap her forelegs loosely around his neck, and only then did she remember to say, "Thank you."

He didn't answer, just started off in the direction he'd gestured to earlier. Sunrise swallowed against the tightness in her throat and felt glad she wasn't in a position where she had to look into those sweet, wide eyes of his again.

---

Braeburn cursed himself for an idjit. How could he come all the way out here into a storm situation and forget to bring a second poncho in case he actually found somepony who needed it? And asking her to crawl off so he could re-sling his poncho to cover them both sounded like a bad idea. Best to get moving.

At least the nearest shelter wasn't far from the bank of the swollen crick he'd pulled the mare out of; still, she was shivering something fierce by the time he saw the little cabin. "Here we go!" Trying to keep his voice cheery, he pushed in through the planks that made up the door. "Nice and cozy!"

The words popped out before he could stop them, and he winced, remembering the first thing she'd said to him after he'd gotten her up the embankment. It didn't help that the shelter wasn't nice and cozy. Like she'd said, it was a hovel maybe half the size of his bedroom back at the ranch, every bit as dark and cold as it was outside though a fair sight drier...

But he couldn't let it bother him. She was frozen and soaked and tired, prob'bly scared and maybe even in shock. He hadn't had too much training—mostly just memorizing where all the emergency shelters were and what they had stocked in 'em—but a quick glance showed him the pot-bellied stove had a good stack of split wood beside it. At least he could get the place warmed up.

Carefully, he squatted onto the straw mat in front of the stove. "Now you just set yourself right down here, ma'am. I'll get the fire lit and get you some towels and blankets."

She didn't move, and Braeburn couldn't keep his ears from folding. But no: he could feel her belly pushing and drawing back with her breath, her grip still good and tight around his shoulders, her heart beating where she'd tucked herself up close against him. And it was only a couple of those heartbeats before she slid off and murmured another little, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, standing and keeping as quiet and gentle as he could. The flint and steel sat on a shelf beside where the stove's pipe went out through the back wall, but even after he'd sparked the tinder in the pan, slid it back into place, and gotten a couple logs tucked in and burning nicely, the thing didn't put out a whole lotta light.

Not that he needed much: crossing the room took him all of three steps, and the closet to the right of the stove had a good stock of soft, thick, cotton sheets. He carried one over to her, shook it open, and laid it across her trembling wings. "We got plenty of 'em, ma'am, so when one gets too damp, just dump it off and grab another." A few more quick back-and-forths, and he had four blankets stacked up beside her.

That's when he realized he was still wearing his gear. Unfastening the poncho and knocking his hat to the floor, he grabbed two more blankets, dried himself good with one, then wrapped up in the other. The pegasus mare, he was glad to see, had done the same; she had two blankets crumpled in a heap to her left and was huddled under the third, her eyes closed and her face all afrown. She wasn't shivering no more, though, so Braeburn settled to the other mat about a quarter turn 'round the stove from where she was laying.

The rain sounded mighty loud against the walls and roof, so he pitched his voice against it: "We got water and hardtack if'n you need anything to eat or drink, ma'am. It's nothing fancy, but—"

"Sunrise," she said, not opening her eyes. "I'm Strawberry Sunrise."

Skittish is what she was, but then he reckoned that was more'n a little understandable. "I'm Braeburn." He didn't wanna get too personal, but he did wanna get her talking, maybe get her cheered up a little, and—

And that was when he remembered the question he shoulda asked her maybe fifteen minutes ago. "Was you traveling by yourself, Sunrise? I didn't see no other ponies when I saw you, but if'n you had friends, I better head on back."

"What? No!" Her eyes shot open. "Out there in that? Besides, all I had was my—" Her eyes went even wider. "My panniers and case!" She leaped up, her wings lifting the blanket off her back, and even in the shadowy flickers the stove gave out, Braeburn could see she wasn't wearing any saddlebags. "Just absolutely perfect!" Her whole face cinched up tight and angry, and she slumped back to the mat, the blanket falling across her again. "Without those contracts and samples, I might as well not even be here!"

Swallowing a sigh, Braeburn pushed himself onto all fours. "Could you describe them bags, ma'am?"

"What? No!" she said again, her ears disappearing into the wet red tangle of her mane. "Forget about them! You...you've already suffered enough for my mistakes." Her voice trailed off, and Braeburn found himself thinking it was a cute little voice when she wasn't growling with it.

Then her actual words hit him, and he shook his head. "Ain't no mistakes involved, I reckon, ma'am. You're not from 'round here, so there's no way you woulda known we had this big ol' gully washer scheduled."

She snorted. "The desk clerk at the hotel told me this morning, but I didn't listen. I mean, why would I pay any attention to anything anypony else might say or think?" Her voice was getting growly again. "I've been making one mistake after another since deciding to come to Appleloosa, and it's long past time to cut my losses." Her head drooped onto her forelegs, and her eyes drew shut. "I might as well head home..."

Braeburn blinked, not sure he should say anything, but, well, he couldn't let her lay there soaking in rainwater and misery, could he? "Least your folks and friends'll be glad to have you back." That seemed a safe bet at least, a pretty little mare like her.

Nothing but the whoosh of the storm outside for a fair stretch of time, then Sunrise gave a quieter sorta snort. "Friends? There's one mare in town, a tailor I sometimes share gossip with—she says her other friends are too nice to get into the real juicy stuff—but that's about it." She raised her head, and in the dim light, her eyes looked gray and unfocused. "And the family already thinks I'm useless. This'll just cement that opinion in their minds."

That got about half a laugh out of Braeburn. "Well, now, could be I know something about cementing that particular kind of opinion."

Her gaze sharpened on him, but it was a wary sorta sharpness, not the grumpy sort he always got from his sister. "'Cause I ain't even s'pposed to be out tonight," Braeburn went on. "My sister Red thought the storm'd be too dangerous." His conscience got a mite prickly, and he blew out a breath. "She loves me, I know, and don't wanna see me get hurt, but there's stallions younger'n me already taking regular shifts on the night patrol! It's just that Red's done made up her mind about me, and nothing I do'll ever change that!"

Sunrise gave about half a laugh herself. "You want me to talk to her? I mean, I'd be buried under half a ton of mud if you hadn't come along." Her gaze sharpened again. "But seriously, Braeburn, you're doing what you have to do, getting out and taking your place in the world whether your sister likes it or not. That's the only thing ponies really respond to: step up, look them straight in the eye, and tell them how it's gonna be."

Braeburn swallowed, glad he'd gotten her talking but not so sure about what she was saying. "I dunno, Sunrise. Every time I try that sorta thing, Red's got some answer that's so sensible, I come off looking nothing but foalish."

"Then get smarter." She tapped a front hoof against her chest. "Look at me. My brother Roan doesn't much like me going out to represent the family all across Equestria—he says I'm too abrasive, too hard-charging." She rolled her eyes. "But I've taught myself so much about the strawberry business that I'm the only possible choice. Roan can either pull somepony away from the fieldwork that they know how to do, or he can send me to do what I know how to do. And I get results." Her mouth went sideways. "In the civilized parts of the world, I mean. Around here, I don't know what their problem is."

"Well..." Braeburn shrugged. "Folks in Appleloosa like to get to know a pony before doing business. Take things slow and easy, be friendly, and everything'll work out okay. That's what I've found, anyway."

"Really." Her eyes closed halfway, and her scent got a little sour. "'Cause what you were saying about your sister running your life made me think that being a doormat hasn't been working out all that well for you."

It struck him like a slap, but it was Sunrise's face that turned red. "I'm sorry," she said, dropping her gaze. "I don't mean to be a grouch all the time, but, well, I kind of am a grouch all the time." She glanced back up at him. "You seem like a really nice guy, Braeburn, but in my experience, 'nice' just gets you trampled in life's stampede. You deserve something better than that." A smile pulled at her lips, the first time he'd seen her do that. "And I'm not just saying that because, y'know, you saved my life."

He couldn't help giving a whole laugh, couldn't help leaning toward her and saying, "Y'know, that there smile's just like your name: gentle and bright and definitely worth getting up early to see. Seems to me you oughtta let it out more often." He raised his hooves before she could start scowling. "Not that I'm qualified to tell anypony how to handle her business, and not that I'm so put-together that I can start giving out advice. But just between you and me out here in the middle of nowhere."

She didn't start scowling, oddly enough—Red always scowled at him when he tried to give her advice. Her smile did go a mite sideways, though. "Well, just between you and me out here in the middle of nowhere, I'll admit that it is nice to slow down and talk to somepony for a change." Her eyes shifted from side to side, and she leaned toward him, her cute little voice dropping. "Especially somepony I'm not trying to sell something to. Just keep it under your hat." She tapped her snout and winked. "Wouldn't want to ruin my reputation, after all."

That needed another full laugh, and Braeburn happily gave it one. "Me, too!" 'Cept that didn't make a lick of sense: he had to stop, take a breath, and try to form what he was feeling into actual words. "I mean, it's just a pure pleasure having a pretty mare talk and listen to me for once instead've giggling and batting her eyelashes the whole time, then showing up at the ranch house asking Red for permission to court me."

Sunrise's eyes went wide again. "That really happens?"

Almost by reflex, Braeburn started to strike a pose—chest out, eyes half closed, head cocked to show his neck to full advantage­—but he stopped himself and gave a sheepish smile. "When I ain't covered in mud and so generally bedraggled, I'm told I'm quite the looker."

"Huh," she said. Her eyes started moving, looking him up and down like she was only just now seeing him, and for the first time in his life, Braeburn tried to shrink away, glad he had that big, shapeless blanket covering him from mane to tail. Her grin came back, but it was her sharp one, not the sorta moony one he usually got after a mare gave him the once over. "Well, there's no accounting for taste, I guess."

"What?" Laughing, he smacked the straw mat under him. "Now with anypony else, I'd think maybe I'd been insulted. But from you, well, that's likely the closest you've ever come to giving a fella a compliment, ain't it?"

"Pretty much." She was laughing, too: not giggling, he was glad to hear, but some real, honest, friendly laughter.

What they talked about after that, Braeburn could never quite remember: stories about growing up; about things they'd seen, him just here around Appleloosa but her from her travels all over Equestria; just about life in general. He stayed in easy reach of the wood pile, and in that warm, dim room, the storm pounding away outside, he had the best night of his life just lying there and talking to a pony like nopony he'd ever met.

He fell asleep at some point—whether before her or after her, again, he couldn't remember—and when he woke up, sunlight streaming in through the cabin's one window, his blanket kicked off and wadded up against his belly, he rolled over to see if she was awake—

And she was gone.

Comments

[FanOfMostEverything]

And so Strawberry must face a truly horrifying reality: she found a likeable Apple.

Great work with the chemistry here. These two are wonderfully complementary, if not always complimentary. Definitely looking forward to more.

[Chadbane]

8242831
My thoughts exactly! Hope there's going to be more of this.

[AugieDog]

8242938
8242831

Thanks, folks!

I've got two more chapters planned and a deadline of June 30th for the contest. So here's hoping!

Mike

[Chadbane]

8243953

Excellent! Proceed, then. I look forward to those chapters!

[Yoshifan30]

It looks like things are not going too well for strawberry Sunrise she got herself caught in the middle of a bad storm and she fell down but lucky for her that Braeburn was there and rescue her and taking her to the shelter to warm up and everything it's pretty nice to see those two interacting with each other and it looks like strawberry sunrise sort of like Braeburn but unfortunately she doesn't want to get too close and when morning comes she was gone I wonder what's going to happen next