Chapter 1
Armed with a stylish umbrella, Nut surveyed the train stop. Classifying it as a station would be quite impossible. There wasn’t even a platform for entry and egress, but movable wooden stairs had been placed just below the train car’s door. There was a building here, it had a slanting roof and the cedar shingles had seen better days. According to the sign over the door, this was the post office of the township of Widowwood.
Nut pulled a brass pocketwatch from his waistcoat pocket, popped it open with a flick of magic, and had himself a look at the time. While it was open, his eyes strayed to the black and white photograph of his father and mother, Bulb and Clove. It was an amusing, droll photograph, because his father’s collar hadn’t been properly starched that day, so it sagged the moment the flash bulb went off. Mortified, his father had a rather bug-eyed expression, and his mother’s ears suggested that she was quite cross.
The help had been reprimanded with a stern eyebrow, raised in a vague, threatening manner, the very same eyebrow that Nut had grown to fear as a foal. It wasn’t that his mother was a mean mare, far from it, but his mother had standards. Standards had to be upheld, otherwise, one suffered from a dearth of standards, and nopony wanted that.
“Suitcase,” the baggage handler grunted as said suitcase was sat down upon the worn, patchy grass, tread bare by many hooves in some places.
“Ah, thank you, good sir.”
“Phah, Canterlot ponies.” The baggage handler, a cantankerous fellow, vanished back inside of the train, and was gone.
“Well, I say.” Nut closed his pocketwatch with a smart, soft click, tucked it into his tweed waistcoat, and then spent a moment examining his suitcase, an item that had seen better days.
It was an old, battered, tired thing that had once belonged to his mother. When she was young, she traveled a fair bit, just like Nut did. His mother had a Doctorate in Garlicology, and she was also one of Equestria’s leading experts on vampiric parasitology. This suitcase had seen action in its youth, but now, the poor thing was old and tired. The wood was scuffed and scratched, but the brass hinges were well-polished. Nut’s suitcase had character.
“Mister Nut? Is that you?”
“Just Nut, if you please,” he said to the mare addressing him. “Mister Nut sounds so silly, don’t you think? Might I inquire who you are? I seem to be at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I know not yours.”
The mare in question was a big hulking brute of a pony, rather bluish purple, with keen eyes and a commanding stare. She spent a moment sizing Nut up before she replied, “I am Blaue Viola Solanum, of the Solanum family, Descendents of the Almighty Celestia. I’m the mayor of Widowwood, the postmaster, the town’s sole schoolteacher, the librarian, and I’m the train station manager. As mayor, I contacted the university for help. So, have you come to help, professor?”
“Oh, I’m not a professor.”
This earned Nut a scowl.
“I’m a student. Of evolutionary biology.”
“Evolution isn’t real,” the burly mare barked. “In the beginning, Almighty Celestia created the skies, the seas, and the firmament. She created all of the animals, and created ponies in her own image. Evolution suggests that the Almighty Celestia is not in control, and she is in control. Of everything. Our creator wouldn’t allow her creation to run rampant.”
Nut found himself at a loss for words.
“I have garden pests,” Blaue Viola said. “Some kind of previously unknown species. I’m not allowed to eradicate them, by order of the Almighty Celestia. I contacted multiple universities, but for some reason, none of them wanted to help me. Thankfully, the Almighty contacted the university in Vanhoover, and demanded a favour. Her will be done.”
Demanded? Nut distinctly remembered the telegraph delivered to the biology department. There was no demand there. Raven had quite politely requested that a qualified biologist go to Widowwood and investigate. Sure, Raven was a little terse, but she was a busy mare. Nut knew her. She was a dear friend of the family, and a foalhood playmate of his mother.
“Nut, eh? What sort of mother names their foal ‘Nut’ anyhow?”
Jarred from his silence, Nut’s response was immediate. “I was… I think eight or nine years of age? My lifelong interest had not manifested yet and I had no mark. Up to this point, I had not been named, though I had nicknames. I rather caused a bit of a fuss, because I went running and shouting through our library. Can’t remember what I was going on about, probably some bit of foalhood foolishness. My mother said I was behaving like a nut, and so she called me Nut, and to my recollection, I haven’t raised my voice or ran indoors ever since. I’d hate to think what else she might call me.”
The big blueish mare squinted at Nut incredulously.
“Well, to be fair, I was acting like a little nut. Sometimes, I’d get overstimulated from my fencing lessons and I was positively dreadful, I assure you. I deserved it.”
“Yer weird, Nut. You know that?”
“I come from House Eccentrica, one of Equestria’s oldest and most noble of houses. ‘Tis my birthright to be weird.” He took a moment to adjust his lapels and smoothed out a few wrinkles from his tweed waistcoat. “Like you, dear madam, I come from a storied lineage.”
“Never heard of House Eccentrica. Who founded that house?”
“Smart Cookie—”
“She’s an earth pony,” Blaue pointed out.
“Why yes, yes she is.” He found himself a bit miffed by the interruption. “She foaled unicorns, and we’ve all been unicorns ever since. But we’ve never forgotten that our founder was an earth pony.”
“Well, that’s good of ya, I suppose.” The big mare seemed mollified by this for some reason and her stern expression softened. “Nut, I seem to have carnivorous vegetables.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“They’ve infested a small patch, but seem to be spreading. Some of my workers have been injured. Bites. I’m told they’re quite aggressive, and nopony has ever seen anything quite like them. When I first heard about one of my farmhooves being attacked by a meat-eating potato, I thought he was drinking on the job again. So, Nut, can you defend yourself?”
“Oh, I assure you, madam, I’ve dealt with things far worse than carnivorous potatoes. I’ve cleared out basilisk infestations and studied mimics. A few toothy vegetables shall not be my end.”
“Good deal.” Blaue seemed to be genuinely impressed. “Follow me, Nut. We have quite a walk ahead of us. I’ll show you my town. We grow potatoes here. Potatoes, glorious potatoes as far as the eye can see. I didn’t need no fancy college education to know about potatoes, it’s in my blood. I’m named after a type of potato, the most noble, most glorious of all vegetables.”
“I’m fond of potatoes,” Nut said to the mare in a most amicable manner.
“Good to hear, Nut. Potatoes are a gift from the Almighty. Celestia’s sacred vegetable and most perfect foodstuff…”
With his field camp established, Nut had himself a well deserved sit on his portable folding stool. There was a wellhouse here, a lean-to shelter for farm equipment, a small water tower above the wellhouse, and vegetables as far as the eye could see. Potatoes, but not just potatoes. Carrots as well, cabbages, squash, the occasional row of beans, everything needed to keep the soil balanced.
He had himself a cool, shady spot to make his observations from, a place to sleep, and he was told that his meals would be brought to him. Nut expected a plethora of potato dishes during his stay. The water tower would make for a fine elevated place of observation and all things considered, this was not a terrible posting.
Less than a yard away, his suitcase sat open, revealing his equipment. Journals, books, multiple cameras, spare clothes, a flare pistol, art supplies, and a large framed picture of his parents, in colour. When this photograph was taken, a button had popped off from his mother’s choker collar, which caused quite a commotion. His father’s eyes were not on his mother’s face, where they should be, but on her neck, where they shouldn’t be.
Against his mother’s wishes, young Nut had saved the photo from certain destruction.
Perched on his stool, Nut unfolded the telescopic tripod, a thin, light, spindley thing that his father would never approve of. Things should be made of wood, steel, brass, and other heavy things—there was a reason why porters could be hired. But Nut chose to live by his own means, without his family’s considerable wealth, and tried to make sure that all of his field gear could be carried in a suitcase.
The air was rich with a warm garden smell; sun-warmed soil, the scent of foliage, with hints of sweetness that comes from green growing things. Birds perched upon the slightly rusty steel struts of the water tower. Where water dripped, there were lush patches of vivid emerald green. There was a certain pastoral beauty to this place and Nut found himself admiring it.
“Stay close, Susan.” Casting a sidelong glance at his umbrella, he smiled the sort of smile of the genteel and well-to-do. “I’m told there are ruffians in the garden, Susan. Now, I’m not one to hide behind a lady, but you are my bodyguard.”
With the tripod unfolded, Nut placed it on the ground.
“Not sure this counts as a garden,” he said to himself. “I find myself adrift upon a sea of spuds.”
Susan did not respond, which was good, as umbrellas were ideally silent companions.
When a bee went flying past, Nut lept from his stool so that he could follow after it. He kept a respectful distance, trailing the bee as it buzzed about, but gave up his chase when the bee went zooming off. Bees were busy creatures, admirable creatures, and Nut rather liked them, even if they were not the primary focus of his studies.
Returning to his gear, Nut placed a camera on the tripod and then went to work attaching the telescoping lens. Expensive gear, bought and paid for out of his own pocket, but oh-so necessary for a field biologist. His stomach growled a bit, protesting the current state of emptiness, and Nut hoped that his host would keep her word. With a suitcase full of gear, there wasn’t much room for supplies, and upgrading to a trunk would be such a headache.
A trunk might very well be necessary, but Nut wasn’t ready to admit that his father was right.
“Mister Nut?”
Whirling about, Nut winced, which almost caused his monocle to pop out, but he was quick to recover. There were two fillies, one older, and one younger. The oldest was holding a picnic basket by the handle, and the youngest one was looking up at him in the curious way that foals do.
“Just Nut, if you please.”
“I’m Colette, and this here’s my sister, Tater Blossom. We was told to bring you lunch, even though it ain’t lunch time. It’ll be supper in a while, but Ma said that’d be a long time to wait, and yer too thin and sickly looking.”
“Sickly?”
“Yeah, Mister, yer thin. I’ve pulled weeds bigger than you.”
Lifting his head up high, Nut recovered himself, but now worried if he should be eating better. Colette was small, yellowish, and rather cheerful. Her sister, Tater Blossom, was a red ruddy colour, the colour of a potato just freed from the soil. Both sisters had vivid orange eyes and manes the colour of fresh hay, a sort of greenish-yellow that was neither green, nor yellow.
Tater Blossom put the picnic basket down, and immediately stuck her head into Nut’s suitcase. When she saw the photograph, she smiled, then laughed, a melodic sound. After a bit of looking around, she lifted her head, looked up at Nut, and then gestured at the picnic basket.
Holding her hoof out, she said, “Dig in, Mister.”
“Why, thank you. I don’t mind if I do.”
“You talk funny,” said Colette, who scuttled closer to her big sister.
“I suppose my dialect sounds strange to you,” Nut replied as he sat down upon his folding portable stool.
“You have an umbrella, and an umbrella cutie mark.” Colette frowned a bit, and with one foreleg, she clung to her sister. “Mama says that umbrellas is sinful.”
Again, Nut’s monocle was in danger of falling out.
“Pray tell, how are umbrellas sinful?” He hoped that Susan wouldn’t be offended by this. She was a good umbrella, and being called sinful might upset her sensibilities. He lifted the picnic basket, and opened it up on one side.
“Well,” Tater Blossom began, “Almighty Celestia makes it rain on both the just and the wicked, and if you get wet, it’s because Celestia wills it. To run afoul of her will is sinful business. Blasphemy.”
To Nut’s ear, it sounded as though Tater Blossom was reciting a lesson, and not something she actually believed. As he dug into the basket, he studied her, and took note of the keen intelligence to be found in her eyes. Yes, yes, the young miss was quoting religious claptrap, but she didn’t appear to be entirely sold on the idea.
“I got chased by a cabbage,” Colette blurted out, “and it tried to bite my bottom. I’m s’posed to eat cabbage, and cabbage ain’t s’posed to eat me. Ma says it’s unnatural, and she says this is the Dark One’s doing.”
“The Dark One?” Nut felt his stomach muscles tense as delightful smells wafted up out of the basket. “Grogar?”
“No, silly… the Dark One. Luna. The one touched by sin.” Colette’s face contorted. “We ain’t s’posed to say her name, it’s a hidin’. Don’t tell on me.”
“Oh.” Nut’s monocle, perhaps distressed by this revelation, took a suicidal dive into the unknown depths of the basket. “Oh, bother and blast.”
“You swore,” Colette said, matter-of-factly.
“So I did.” Monocleless, Nut squinted, suddenly blind to up-close things. “I apologise, young miss. But I was rather caught off guard. You see, I know Celestia. And Luna. I spent a summer working as a page in the castle before I left for university. Celestia would be… upset to hear this. She and her sister Luna, they’re, well, they’re one pony in two bodies. Why, she’s even talked about this in an interview, and this interview was shown in movie theatres across the nation.”
“Movies is sinful.” Colette was solemn and her eyes were like two thunderheads brewing up a storm.
“You know Celestia?” Tater Blossom was more curious than solemn. “What’s she like? You’ve stood in her light? You didn’t burn from wickedness when you was near her?”
“I’m sorry, I need a moment.” Nut fished out his monocle and then made every effort to right himself. Flabbergasted, he tried to process the moment. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this, and all thoughts of a late lunch were forgotten. “Celestia and Luna stand together often, and Luna doesn’t ‘burn from wickedness’ when she’s close. What is this nonsense?”
“The Way of Almighty Celestia isn’t nonsense.” Colette’s thunderhead stare intensified a bit, and her lower lip protruded.
“Princess Celestia would be deeply hurt and offended if she heard this talk about her sister.” After he sat down the basket in front of him, Nut frowned. “I’ve known Celestia all my life. Both Celestia and Luna attended my cute-ceañera… I was a late bloomer. I come from a Founder Family, and the Royals maintain close ties with us out of social obligation.” Shaking his head hard from side to side, he struggled to find more words. “Celestia insists that she’s a pony, just like you or I.”
“Colette, go on back on up to the house.”
“But I—”
“Colette, go on, and do as I say.”
“But I don’t wanna—”
“Get!” Tater Blossom shoved her sister away. “Go on, you don’t need to be hearin’ this sinful business. Now scram!”
Rebuked by her sister, Colette stomped away, and Nut was sad to watch her go.
“Mister, I am powerful sorry ‘bout what I said.”
“You mentioned that already.” Nut’s spoon hovered just over the wooden bowl of ice-cold potato salad as his eyes focused on the filly sitting on the grass.
“Yeah, but I feel bad. I had to send her away somehow, and I kinda lied. At least, it feels like lying. Now I’m scared I’m gonna be in trouble for it.” Miserable, Tater Blossom pawed the grass with her hoof, which was stained green.
Thoughtful, Nut cautiously ate a bite of potato salad, but worried that the conversation would continue. While some ponies could eat and converse, Princess Celestia chief among them, the very idea of talking with his mouth full made him feel faint. Why, it was worse than running amok and shouting in a library.
“Mama’s the school teacher, and this is what we learn in school.” Tater Blossom seemed troubled and for a moment, it seemed as though she might say more. Her mouth hung open, her head shook from side to side, and her nostrils flared wide. But after a few seconds of visible effort, she gave up, and in doing so, went silent and still.
After swallowing his food, Nut said, “I need an assistant while I work. A helper.” Already, a plan was forming, a rather nefarious plan, the sort of plan that might make his mother scowl, but she would approve of his actions. His mother, Clove, did not abide such ignorance. She was a hard-liner, his mother, a puller of ears, and a raiser of eyebrows.
Nut loved her dearly, and did all he could to humour her.
So, infecting a filly with the virtues of science was his mother’s fault, really, when one thought about it in a certain way. Yes, this was his mother’s fault, and not his own. His mother wouldn’t stand for this; why, she’d be straining at her collar and tugging at her petticoats. There would be harrumphing the likes of which had never been heard before.
As for his father, he’d be running about in circles, following after Clove, and trying to fan away her anger. Of the two of them, Bulb was the caregiver, the nice one, and he was far more tolerant of ignorance—though not that tolerant. His father had a well-defined breaking point, and when reached, he and Clove switched roles, as married couples tended to do. Once angered, Bulb was the thunderous one, with vim and vigour, with his temper the stuff of legend in Canterlot. Never anger the pony with the tulip cutie mark, it was said along Royal Row.
“Mama says your some kind of evolutionary biologist,” Tater Blossom said in a voice that was almost squeaky. “She was right mad when she said it, and stomped around the kitchen. What is that, ‘zactly?”
“Well, what it is, it is not yet fully defined. Evolutionary biology is a new field of study. So new, in fact, that it is still being sorted out. I’m a pioneer of sorts. What I do now will determine what the field will one day be. I am laying the foundation for all those who come after me.” Almost amused, Nut suspected that the filly wanted to know more about the world, and he didn’t feel guilty at all now about what he was doing. “One day, I am going to go to the Gallopagos Islands, and I am going to change all of the world. I am slowly saving up for my expedition, which is why I take jobs like this one. My gut tells me that is the place where my destiny and I will meet.”
Eyes now sad, Tater Blossom let heave a sigh and then she turned away. “I’ve never left town. I’m not allowed to leave town. Mama says the world is full of wicked ponies, and that I must never leave. I was born here, I’m gonna live here, and at the end of it all, I’m gonna be buried here, just one more potato in the bin.”
“Is that how you want it to be?” he asked.
Her response was unexpected. “That’s a big umbrella. I ain’t never seen anything like it.”
“That’s Susan.” Nut poked his potato salad with his spoon, but did not take a bite. “On the day I met her, I got my mark. It was love at first sight.”
“That’s a queer thing to say.”
“I’m a queer fellow.”
“She’s longer than I am tall.”
“Oh, Susan wasn’t crafted with ponies in mind. She’s of Minotaurian make. Quite special.”
“Mama says all the minotaurs are evil, and that only ponies are good, because we’re made in Celestia’s image.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what I believe, and sometimes, that gets me a hidin’. The only way to make it stop is to say I believe. I’m waiting for the whippin’ to continue though, ‘cause Mama has to know I’m lying by now. I gots doubts, and doubts is sinful.”
Though he had much that could be said, Nut maintained thoughtful silence, and took a bite.
“So what’s a cutie mark for an umbrella mean, exactly? Why would you love an umbrella? And why in tarnation is she called ‘Susan,’ ‘cause that’s a weird name and I ain’t never heard it before. Do you two kiss, or something?”
It was good that Tater Blossom had questions. Her curious nature and inquisitiveness hadn’t yet been whipped out of her, and due to this, Nut had high hopes. Maybe, just maybe, he might nurture that desire to learn and keep it alive. As he chewed, he glanced over at Susan, who stood at the ready.
After swallowing, he replied, “Susan is no mere umbrella. She’s a weapon… a Minotaurian War Umbrella. She’ll block more than rain. Dragonfire, claws, sharp things, she makes for a highly functional shield, and there is a concealed blade. Keeping her requires a permit, which I have, and that permit marks me as a functional, respectable member of society. I am trusted to bear arms, and not go about willy-nilly with them, putting others in danger. The moment she and I met, I knew she was the one for me. My mark appeared, and my parents did not hesitate to purchase Susan right away, even though she costs as much as a respectable house.”
“You know, I’m pretty sure that Mama doesn’t even know that such things exist.” Tater Blossom squirmed a bit, her muzzle crinkled with wrinkles, and she continued to paw the ground with one hoof. “But I bet she’d think it was bad. Cameras are bad.”
Nut took the offered bait. “Why are cameras bad?”
“Well, ‘cause, you see, they trap and interfere with light, and all that is light belongs to the Almighty Celestia. And it ain’t our right to tamper with it. That’s why movies are sinful too. We’re s’posed to respect the light, not mess with it.”
“Does your mother have mirrors?” he asked.
“Yeah, she does.”
“Well,” he began whilst eyeballing a sliver of pickle in his potato salad, “mirrors work by reflecting light. They’re not so different from a photograph, really. It’s all light manipulation.”
“Huh.” Tater Blossom reached up and rubbed her chin. “Don’t tell Mama that, she’ll have conniption fits.”
“And all the mirrors would be smashed.” This would be amusing, if it weren't so tragic, and Nut had trouble with the fact that these attitudes existed in the world.
“Prolly.”
“I’ll teach you how to use a camera,” he offered.
“Really?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“When?”
“As soon as I’m finished eating.”
“That’ll be wonnerful!”
Once Tater Blossom got over her initial shyness, she proved to be an eager student. There were questions about everything, and Nut, mindful of her fragile nature, maintained his patience. Every question was answered to the best of his ability, and he discovered that he rather liked teaching. Which wasn’t so strange, really. His family specialised in knowledge, peculiar knowledge, specific knowledge, and many of them became teachers at some point in their lives. Such was the legacy of Smart Cookie.
The shadows had grown long and as the afternoon stretched on, the midday heat gave way to cool, balmy breezes. Drowsy breezes, but Nut did not dare nap. There was just too much work to do… plus, there was a student to teach. Tater Blossom was smart; almost scarily so. He hardly had to repeat himself. Just offer simple instruction and she was ready to go. Her ability to retain knowledge was impressive, so much so that Nut knew that her talents would be wasted if she remained in Widowwood.
Why was this place called Widowwood?
He hadn’t asked.
There weren’t even that many trees.
Everything had been cleared away for crops.
“How does the hoof pedal for the camera work?” Tater Blossom asked.
“A piezoelectric effect happens when the pedal is depressed. The introduction of mechanical stress on the piezoelectric actuator creates a spark of electricity, which goes up the wire, and this causes the camera to activate. So when the pedal is pressed, a picture is taken.”
“Neat!”
“How does your mother feel about electricity?” he found himself asking.
“It’s evil,” his helper replied.
Irritated, Nut let out slow sigh.
“The backside-chomping vegetables come out at night, mostly. They’re real active then. But they’ll come after you if you bother them during the day. But I think they sleep during the day. Just don’t go near ‘em while they sleep, ‘cause they is grumpy. They wake up hangry.”
“They are grumpy,” Nut muttered.
“It’s neat that your suitcase becomes a table. A desk? I don’t know what it is, but it’s neat that it has legs that come out of it.”
“As a naturalist, I spend much of my time drawing and sketching what I see. I need a spot to work. Having a portable desk helps.”
“They look different, too.” Tater Blossom gestured at the field with her hoof, and wagged her head in the direction of danger. “I’ve snuck close enough to have a better look. The tater ones look like tater plants, but don’t. They’s different somehow, just not sure how to describe it. But I know tater plants, and these ain’t tater plants. These are booger-monster chewy-chompy veggies.”
“Oh heavens, booger-monster?” Looking off in the direction where his companion pointed, Nut tried to clarify the language used. “Did you mean boogeymonster?”
“No.” She planted all four hooves on the ground, and stood, resolute. “Booger-monster. They’s snotty as all get out. Mucus. Boogers. One of my brothers got covered in the stuff, and my older sister got it in her mane. It took forever to wash out.”
“Fascinating.”
“Not really. Just gross.”
“So, exceedingly sticky mucus you say?”
“Did I say that? I don’t recall saying that. I guess I mighta. They spit, is what they do. Or sneeze. It might be a sneeze. And hoo boy, can they aim. My brother says it stings in the eyes, and he had trouble breathing ‘cause it gunked up his nose. It’s super-gooey.”
Tater Blossom did not have a suitable vocabulary for science, but she did have an impressive command of her own dialect. His father had taught him not to judge ponies by how they spoke, and to not make assumptions about their intelligence. Tater Blossom had told him quite a lot, there was knowledge to be gleaned, but she’d done so in her own language, not his.
These creatures, whatever they might be, used weaponised mucus to hunt with. The mucus obscured vision, which suggested potential chemical irritants. It seemed as though they could aim, if obscured airways were any indication. If they could aim, this suggested stereoscopic vision, with forward-facing eyes, which might be an indicator of increased brain mass, if they had brains. Which seemed to be the case.
One could ask for worse assistants.
“Can you point one of them out for me?” he asked. “Susan and I will keep you safe.”
“Oh, sure. Follow me. Just don’t get snot on your eyeglass, it’s hard to wash off.”
Tater Blossom halted so suddenly that Nut almost bumped into her. She was a quick creature, quick to motion, quick to halt, and quick to think, from what little he knew of her. A smart filly, she did not belong in this place. In Canterlot, she would have been sorted into one of the many special schools for earth ponies with impressive cognitive abilities, he was certain of it. If not, a word from his parents or any of his family would most certainly do it, because one simply did not debate such requests from House Eccentrica.
One would suddenly find their school quite under-funded.
Or worse, one might find oneself looking for fresh employment.
“Over there,” she said, pointing. “See, that tater plant ain’t a tater plant.”
Nut found himself a bit confused, because all of the potato plants looked the same. He squinted, peering through his monocle, wondering if his farsightedness was working against him, but try as he might, he could not discern any differences. Moving closer to Tater Blossom, he leaned in almost neck to neck, and tried to peer down her foreleg to see where she pointed.
“Right there,” she said. “See, the leaves is veiny. And not like normal tater leaves. These are fat veins, like I have in my legs and in my body. See, look closer.”
“Well, I’ll be.” Sure enough, on closer inspection, he noticed the veins on the leaves. These were not fine spiderwebs of thin lines, but rounded veins, filled with liquid. If it wasn’t for Tater Blossom, he might not have noticed for quite some time. Sure, he would have eventually, but she had saved him hours of effort.
Yes, he decided. Tater Blossom was a smart earth pony, a cognitive variation.
Equestria had all manner of plants that were monsters, but only a few that had circulatory systems. While he was hesitant to jump to conclusions, this certainly narrowed down the long list of what he might be dealing with. While only a student on the beginning of his journey, Nut had dealt with all manner of Equestria’s megafauna and megaflora. He could only think of a few plants that had advanced circulatory systems, brains, eyes, and the ability to hunt.
None of them were friendly.
In general, plants didn’t need advanced bodies. They were plants. Simple creatures. But some plants had evolved with different needs in mind, and some were quite predatory. Some, like needler cacti, were mindless creatures who acted solely on instinct. When they sensed movement, or vibration, needles with powerful paralytics were released, and the cacti got what it needed for sustenance: a corpse that would soon be decomposing. Some predatory plants needed to consume magic in order to maintain their magicalness. Without concentrated quantities of magic, these plants shriveled up, and died. Such concentrations of magic could be found through predation of magical creatures.
Some plants had evolved powerful means to consume magical creatures, so that their magic could be sustained. It didn’t make sense, nor did it need to. Magic didn’t make sense. Not even Twilight Sparkle understood magic, which resisted all efforts to have its secrets studied. Magic, for whatever reason, did not wish to make its methods known, and in the study of magical creatures, one had to deal with this consistent unknown.
“Over there, that carrot ain’t no carrot. Same kinda leaves. And right there, just past those squash, those cabbages ain’t cabbages. Thems is something else. Watch out, the cabbages are extra mean.”
Everything she pointed to had similar characteristics; thick, veiny leaves.
At least he knew what to look for.
“No one back at the university is going to believe me,” he muttered to himself.
“Well, why not? Yer smart.”
“Tater,” he said to the filly right beside him, “being smart is not evidence. It isn’t proof. It helps, in some regard, but sometimes, even very smart ponies make mistakes, or come to the wrong conclusions. I do believe we’re dealing with trolls. In fact, I’d stake my reputation on it, but that is quite impossible. At least, from what we know of trolls. It’s a gut feeling, a hunch. But trolls are giants. Mutant trees, of a sort. And trolls… well, troll. But this—”
“How do trolls troll?”
“Well…” He paused, because it seemed as though class was in session. “Trolls troll. They look appealing, if possible, and lure creatures in. Some of them disguise themselves as things like apple trees, for example. And when a creature goes in to pick an apple, the troll attacks, coming up from the ground, and gobbling up its unsuspecting prey.”
“Boy howdy, I wonder what Mama would say about that.”
Raising Susan, Nut crept closer, knowing that trolls were sensitive to vibrations. He’d studied trolls already, and had even battled a few. While he did not consider himself a wizard, or even a warrior—he was a scholar to the bone—he was no slouch, no easy meal. Just how ferocious these troll vegetables were remained to be seen.
“I’m havin’ the time of my life,” Tater Blossom said to Nut. “I gots somepony to learn stuff with, and I’m not being hollered at for bein’ smart.”
With Susan held in front of him, Nut sighed. What did the world have against smart mares and fillies, anyhow? His mother and father got along fine. But then again, they were cousins, and had been raised together. Their marriage had been decided at an early age, and neither of them objected to it. They were best friends, playmates, and in House Eccentrica, brains were the only thing that mattered.
For the first time, Nut considered the possibility that his family might be weird.
Quite suddenly, and without warning, a potato plant popped up out of the black dirt like a cork. Just as fast, as if by pure instinct, Nut unfurled Susan, who sprang open. Her inner-lining of chainmail mesh glittered, and there was a metallic jangle as something solid and heavy bounced off from the other side. Then, everything went silent.
Cautiously, he peered around the edge of Susan, and saw nothing.
The potato troll, if it was, indeed, a troll, was back in the ground, but in a different location. It’s previous location was a hole in the ground, and within that hole, Nut spotted debris, bits of bone and hair, the uneaten remains of prey. A garden, or an enormous farm in this instance, would be an ideal place for a small ambush predator. Rabbits, mice, voles, moles, vermin, bugs, even birds—all edible. And posing as a potato plant, these garden pests would come right up to take a nibble.
Nut closed Susan, but remained at the ready.
“Miss Blossom, let us back away, for now, and think of a better way to go about this.”
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I like Nut. Nut is a lot of things and I like all the things that he represents as a nut.
This was fun, which is most likely sinful in some way. Shame
You know, I find the more an author protests that I shouldn't enjoy a story, the more I tend to enjoy it. As it is, I am quite taken with this one.
So far I am enjoying this story quite a bit. Thank you for sharing it and I am excited to read more.
I'm already fascinated, actually. What an effective adaptation for a predatory plant, and if domesticatable, a boon for farmers.
Well I really enjoy this story. Nut is a cool character and I'd love to read more content about him.
The world building in this is really neat and mentally stimulating to me. The idea of something like what Nut has described evolving on the farm of Blaue has me smirking at the possibilities. Corruption by science is a very worth ideal I can't wait to see it become more during this story.
I think "mama" needs to be visited by the princesses....I'm quite sure that with one severely arched eyebrow and vigorous application of "Teachers patience .tm. " she might be able to be a redeemable character....
Failing that letting Luna loose with her royal canterlot voice might just suffice....Gosling might actually join her lol
9696289
See, she's actually a result of her own evolution. Stagnation is to blame. Mama is the end result of living in a place where ideas are controlled and nothing ever changes. It's a different form of evolution, but it is still just that, evolution. Things adapt and evolve according to the surrounding environment.
A stagnant pond produces bottom-feeders and scum.
Social evolution with religious indoctrination is a neat concept, always wondered what it was like to live in a place like that. Nut seems like he'll be a fun character and I like that he's willing to teach Tater Blossom instead of being a jackass about being smart. I'm really excited to see where you go with this and I hope I can pick up on whatever secondary story is being written here.
Is the Widowwood supposed to be some sort of blend between rural Ireland 2 centuries ago and the American Bible Belt 2 decades ago?
9696355
The American Bible Belt is still very much like this. Right now. If anything, it's grown worse.
My Theory is that Widowwood used to be a Troll habitat. If the trees get up and kill all your menfolk, then the woods left you with quite a lot of widows. Maybe the trolls got routed/purged/what have you, and now a new, much smaller breed of troll is moving in.
Carnivorous vegetables, you say?
puu.sh/DK2SK.gif
You had me at Minotaurian War Umbrella.
I'm loving Nut and Tater Blossom's growing rapport. I desperately hope she is able to get out of there, and while I doubt she has time for it, it would be oh so enjoyable for Celestia herself to stop by and rip Blaue Viola a new one for the way she treats her daughters. Nothing says poetic justice like an abusive, religious zealot of a mother having her parental custody rights taken away by her own god.
9696384
Or better yet, the Trolls, they have evolved. Good thing we've got a budding evolutionary biologist on hoof.
Well, I'm hooked.
Where do Tomatoes fit into this?
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9696309
Yes, something not changing is still evolution. Sharks are the best things there are at being sharks, as I recall.
Wonder if Tarnished or Twilight have ever met Nut. While inanimate Susan is an interesting character.
While a believable setting its also a sad setting especially since you know the stagnation is unlikely to change. Everything is in place to keep things unchanged especially with Tator Blossom's mother impressing those beliefs on everypony
9696418 Maybe its evolution maybe its just the aftereffects of removing all the trees. After all in nature larger predators tend to drive out or prey on the smaller
9696414 Ponders if Minotaurs aren't a species where nothing they make doesn't double as a weapon
Nut is quite the enjoyable protagonist, and I particularly like his large vernacular.
Maybe a little anvilly, but interesting all the same.
I'd like to see Celestia's excalibur face at having to deal with this cult, though.
i love the minotaur war umbrella, have you ever come across bartitsu
I sure as hell hope this story takes off. Nut is a pretty interesting character!
Also kinda relatable growing up in an area where being "the smart kid" was not a good thing to be.
I like Nut. He's an interesting fellow. Now what I'd REALLY like to see is the epic showdown between him and Viola for "poisoning the minds" of the young 'uns. I see a lot of similarities between her and the kooky mom from the Waterboy movie hehe
Great start. Nut is an immensly likeable protagonist.
Also, Blaue Viola probably does not know that her namesake plants belong to the Nightshade family, speaking botanically?
Shove more Nut into my gaping eye-maw.
Hmmmm. Is this character also named Nut because you wanted some low hanging fruit in the double entendres department?
9697145
Bulb. Clove. Nut.
What do all of these things have in common? What is the central theme? Aside from having a single syllable, that is.
9697153
Well yes, they all refer to plants. Tulip bulb, garlic clove, tree nut. Things which a plant grows from. Seeds, in a matter of speaking, though I am sure the botanically inclined will expound on their technical differences.
But nut is also a great word for innuendo.
I have seen your chapter titles, good sir, and you cannot try to sway me from my obviously correct assumption that Nut will be leveraged into entendres of any amount!
....not that there is anything wrong with that.
This looks like loads of fun. You even have the best weapon.
So you mentioned The Underwatch in your authors note. You've mentioned it before and given the name I'm guessing it has to do with the Caterlot war with the rats. That's a story that I'd really like to read so is it happening soon, or when the rest of the stories catch up eventually?
I think I like Nut and little Tater very much! Hopefully she get the education she deserves, and not a chomping.
I don't think you should discount any of your stories as being ignorable. You have such a wildly fantastic style of writing, a vividly refreshing way of pacing out stories and developing characters, that if you wrote swear words on the side of a cabbage I would still find the time to ooh and aah at all the ways you made it your own.
I don't comment much (or at all), but know that your stories always brighten up my days with their wit and the like. You are a superstar, kudzu.
Loved it. Nut is an extremely lovable character; “being weird is my birthright” indeed.
Backwater town meets budding scientist is a good theme which I rather like, and I can see much learning to come for a curious young filly.
As far as doing a project just for you and to recharge, I say go for it. If you feel strongly enough about it to put time into writing it, there are those of is who will read it, not just because it is there, but because your work is good and worth spending time to enjoy.
And lets be honest, I can’t think of a chapter that you released where I felt it was a waste of time to read. And I think I’ve read everything you’ve put out on this site
real excited to see what happens in this story. keep up the good work. c:
As soon as small trolls where mentioned I got flashback of the troll dolls.
At least the town is only growing potatoes and similar sized veggies. Imagine if it where melons or pumpkins.
That would be quite a chomping.
I wonder how well, a pack of domesticated trolls could keep a farm pest free.
What would a group of these smaller trolls even be called? I vote for calling them a bushel.
I like this story. :D
9696429
I remember being SOOOOOO disappointed with that movie as a kid. I expected a kaiju film as advertised, with giant tomatoes with angry faces and teeth, and green grabbing tentacle vines, trying to eat people with guns. Instead, I got some sort of adult comedy satire thing whose jokes I didn't understand. I think they were supposed to be funny. And normal tomatoes rolling down an incline, that's supposed to be scary or something. Disappoint.
9696468
I really wish Studio DHX could have treated its newly introduced specieses as actual societies, rather than one-off individuals. Ah well, we can only imagine MLP minotaur society. They usually turn out to be benign Orkz (or fearsome gnomes), according to the fan authors on this site.
9698764
There is a city called Istanbull... once Cowstantinople. I've wrriten a fair bit about them. And a minotaur culture that is deep and rich.
You do you boss.
And thank YOU for more insisted into your universes and wrighting styles. From the chase, Luna’s suicide story(sorry on my phone and cant look it up atm), and other works it’s been amazing to see your style evolve and see bits and pieces of the parts show up in the Weedverse.
Pony Darwin is an interesting idea, and he's an fun character too.
Loving the characterization so far.
I like these offshoots of the weed verse. I think they help make the world you're building feel organic. There's the main, overarching plot with grogar, but these side stories show us that life is still happening in other parts of the world, life that has nothing to do with the major heroes.