Chapter 4 - April
April brought on two things. First of all, April Fool’s Day, which was effectively the start of open season as far as Rainbow Dash was concerned. From the moment she got up until the town clock struck twelve, we were all bombarded by pranks. Still, at least they were a little more tame this year, instead of being something close to mean. I think she might have learned her lesson after the whole cookie incident. I must say, it was rather fun to play a zombie for a day and scare the living daylights out of her.
She certainly seems to have learned her lesson from that experience in any case. Whereas on previous occasions she’d hidden an occupied bee hive in one of the apple trees I was harvesting (and for the record, I was, and remain, utterly terrified of bees, wasps, and hornets. My response to all of them is to begin casting as many fire spells as possible), which resulted in the nest full of angry insects landing right on my head, splitting it open, and saw me chased all over the farm, to say nothing of what it did to my pre-existing phobia. This year, she went for the much more simple, and actually more impressive act of filling my wardrobe with apples from the barn. When I opened it to grab a few things, I was bombarded with a bumper crop. I still have no idea how she did it without waking me, although something tells me she and Pinkie have teamed up this year. And it was funny enough, not taking that much effort, well not for a unicorn such as myself, to clean up. A quick teleportation spell had them back where they belonged.
Beyond the humorous practical jokes though, April also saw a somewhat unwelcome change in the weather. While March had been reasonably mild, with most days being clear, and actually quite warm, April was set to change that. It was time to bring on the April showers. We’d had the sunlight now we needed the rain to properly kick start the germination process and get all the crops on their way. That meant several days of heavy rain and occasional high winds, neither of which were particularly fun.
While weather might be ‘controlled’ in Equestria, in that the pegasi are able to manipulate clouds and so forth to create rain or thunderstorms, or snow showers, as well as moving them away for clearer weather, they don’t really control the actual storm as it happens. They start it up and shut it down, and make sure it stays where it’s supposed to, but little else. That means that sometimes, a storm can be more powerful than the weather team intended, and that was precisely what happened one Wednesday night.
It was raining heavily again as we all gathered around the fire for warmth. The constant rain had brought a couple of leaks too, meaning my room now had two pots on the floor catching dripping rainwater, AJ had said she was going to take a look at the roof tomorrow when the storm had died down. For the moment though, I had to put up with the sound of the water dripping all night long. Along with the rain though, the wind was really getting up. I’d run into Rainbow Dash the other day in town, and she’d warned me that things really would kick off tonight, with forecasts of gale force nine across the whole valley. Not weather you’d want to be caught out in.
What concerned us though, was that the strong winds would probably fell a few of the trees in the orchards. You get a blustery day, and we normally spend the next day or so gathering up loose branches that have been blown away, but this was getting up to the level of that storm back in the ‘80’s that flattened half the Home Counties.
The one Michael Fish assured us wasn’t coming. That turned out to be the most powerful storm in two centuries they reckoned. At least I knew weather pegasi couldn’t miss the mark by that much.
Still, it was a worry. Felled trees meant a lower crop yield, which meant a reduced profit come harvest season, which meant less in the way of savings to get us through the winter. Like I said, farms both here and on Earth operate on a close margin. I’d seen a bad thunderstorm storm devastate a cattle herd back home that left the farmer all but bankrupt.
The upside was though, that this early in the year, we could still plant new apple trees and have a hope to get something out of them by autumn instead of two or three years. As crazy as that sounds, remember, we have a certain filly who’s spent a lot of time learning about potions, including ones that can induce rapid growth. Apple Bloom’s hobby had inadvertently become a nice safety net for us.
As another powerful gust of wind hit, roaring down the fireplace, I took a look out the window at the driving rain. There’d been no thunder or lightening yet, but it looked like it might go that way before long.
“Hellfire, it’s really comin’ down, ain’t it?” I offered to the rest of the family, who were scattered on the sofas and chairs around the room.
“Eeyup,” Big Mac agreed, also looking out the nearby window.
“I ain’t see it this bad for a long while,” Applejack agreed.
“Ah phooey!” Granny Smith countered. “You young‘uns don’t know what a storm is. Why, back when I was just a filly, the whole of the Canterhorn valley got hit with a storm straight out of the Everfree Forest. It tore clean through the farm and took half of Ponyville with it before the pegasus ponies got it under control.”
Applejack decided not to mention that, about a year ago, she’d been clinging on for dear life amidst an actual tornado brought on by that insane monkey, the Storm King, misusing the magic of four alicorns. At least this wasn’t that, and I was certainly glad that that stupid staff of his had, after careful study, been returned to whence it came, the Tree of Harmony, so that nocreature could misuse it again.
“I just hope it stops soon,” Apple Bloom said. Her head was low and her ears splayed back, mimicking Winona, who was sitting right up in front of the fireplace. Neither of them liked storms.
“Don’t you worry, Apple Bloom,” AJ reassured her little sister. “This’ll all be over soon. I just hope the trees stand up to all this wind.”
After that, the six of us fell into silence again. There wasn’t really too much to do this evening. We’d all had dinner, but this storm seemed to have put a real dampener on our spirits.
“Say, why don’t we play a game?” I suggested.
Ponies, like humans, have plenty of board games specifically designed to pass the time on rainy Wednesday afternoons. However, just as with humans, they also have the same flaw.
“I don’t know, Bones,” AJ said. “I don’t think anypony here wants a repeat of that Monopoly fiasco.”
Ah yes. Monopoly is now banned in this house due to some...unpleasantness. It wasn’t my fault though. Big Mac was the one who decided to ‘rob’ the bank when he went bankrupt. The set was now safely buried out on the farm somewhere.
“Well, there must be something else we can play,” I persisted. “Mac, how about you teach us that O&O game you play with Discord and Spike?”
“Nnope,” the large stallion replied. “Takes too long to set up, and all the rulebooks and dice are at Twilight’s castle.”
“There’s gotta be somethin’,” Apple Bloom said.
In the end, it was Granny Smith who came up with the idea. While we were throwing ideas around, she’d walked off, only to return a minute or so later, with a dealer’s visor, a pack of playing cards, and a small case full of poker chips.
“Come on, you four,” she said. “Gather round. It’s ‘bout time y’all learned to play Poker any how.”
We were all a little caught off guard. I always figured Granny used those cards to play Bridge with her fellow OAPs. But instead, here she was, setting out the chips for five around the round dining table that sat in the living room.
I myself knew how to play poker, mainly due to too many hours spent playing Far Cry 3 and Red Dead Redemption. And luckily for me, Granny called the game as Dodge City Hold ‘em. Of course, this was still my first time playing against real people.
Mac too was familiar with the game, having picked it up from Braeburn when he last went down to Appleloosa. Applejack and Apple Bloom though weren’t too familiar with the rules. So, for the benefit of them, and any of you who don’t know how to play Texas Hold ’em, I explained.
“It ain’t too hard,” I said. "Everypony sits round the table, and the dealer gives everypony two cards that they keep secret. Then there’s a round of bettin’. You have to match the current bet to stay in the game. But if ya think your hand ain’t worth it, ya can fold and lose any money ya put in so far.
“After the first round of bets, the dealer deals three cards in the middle of the table that everypony can see. The idea is to use your two cards, and the cards on the table to make the best five card hand. After another round of betting, the dealer deals another card, the Turn, then everypony bets again, then there’s one more card dealt; the River. After one more round of bets, everypony still in the round shows their two cards. Whoever has the best hand wins the pot.”
I, along with Granny, then went on to explain the various hands and their value, the small and big blinds, checking, side pots, and the other minutiae of poker. Granny also reassured them both that they’d learn through playing and, with the chips she had, they could re-buy a few times if they busted out. And of course, it would be with just chips, rather than any money changing hands. Just a nice friendly little home game.
And so, with everything explained, we all took our places, gathered our chips and made a start, with Granny Smith serving as dealer for the first round. After having me use my magic to shuffle the cards, she dealt out the hole cards to us. Folding up the one corner, I took a look at mine. Two and jack, off suit. Applejack and Apple Bloom meanwhile posted the blinds.
“Call,” I said, pushing a couple of chips forward to match the big blind. No sense kicking things off too early and unsettling the new players.
“Eeyup,” Big Mac said, pushing his own chips forward.
“I’ll see that,” Granny said, already giving a good poker face as she pushed her own chips forward.
“Nah, I’ll fold,” Applejack said, pushing her cards forward with a look of disgust that can only be seen when you draw a seven and two off.
“And I’ll check,” Apple Bloom said, tapping her hoof twice on the table.
Granny now dealt the Flop; the first three community cards to help us build a winning hand. Out came a ten of spades, three of diamonds, and a ten of hearts. A pair, but not much to work with.
“Check,” Apple Bloom said again, frowning slightly. The turn passed to her first, since AJ had folded.
“Check,” I agreed.
“Check,” agreed Big Mac. It seemed none of us had gotten much out of the Turn. Or at least, that’s what we wanted everypony else to think. Things now turned to Granny again.
“Hmm...I’ll bet,” she said after a moment. That was too much for Apple Bloom.
“I’ll fold,” she said, her cards joining her big sister’s. I however, didn’t scare so easily. Let’s see if we can’t rattle old Granny.
“I’ll raise,” I said, putting double the last bet forward.
“I’ll see that,” Mac replied.
“Me too,” Granny said. She then dealt the Turn, which was a two. Nice, two pair! It was my turn again.
“I’ll raise ten,” I said, putting a few more of my chips in the pot. Mac met my eyes for a moment.
“Your ten, and ten more.”
“Macintosh Apple!” Granny Smith scolded him. “Your mama taught ya better than to re-raise.”
“Sorry, Granny,” he said apologetically. She then looked at the cards and her own.
“Ah, fiddlesticks! Fold.”
Now it was just me and Mac as the River came out. I hoped for another two to make a nice full house. What I got was a scary looking king. Mac didn’t seem to be rattled by it. Still, I’d come this far. In for a penny in for a pound. I could still try to bluff my way past him.
“Call,” I said in a calm, low voice.
Mac and I locked eyes as we stared each other down across the table. Friendly game or not, a showdown was still a showdown. I did my best to keep my expression neutral, which was exactly what Big Mac was doing, only I expect he was doing a much better job.
“Call,” he said finally.
With that, I flipped over my cards, showing a jack and a two.
“Two pair, tens over twos,” Granny declared before turning to Mac.
With a somewhat smug grin, Mac showed his cards, another ten and a four. Sod it!
“Trip tens,” Granny said. “Big Macintosh wins the pot.”
Big Mac chuckled as scooped up the chips.
Luckily for me though, he wouldn’t be laughing for too long. A few hands later, which saw me win a couple of hands, along with Apple Bloom and split one pot with Granny, Mac and Applejack were locked in a showdown. At the flop, there was a two, a five, and a queen down. At the turn, it was joined by a six, and at the river by the ace of spades. Mac, having drawn pocket aces, had been quite bold in his betting, but Applejack had matched him at every turn. After seeing the river, and knowing he had three aces, he went all in, which Applejack reciprocated. I can’t tell you how enjoyable it was to see his face when AJ revealed her three and four, giving her a nice straight that busted Mac out and forced him to re-buy.
The game continued all through the evening, and really helped to take our minds off the storm. We all chatted as the game worked its way around. We celebrated and lamented our changes in fortune, and in general just had a good old time. I suggested to Mac that maybe he could do this next Guys’ Night. The red stallion replied they’d tried it once, and Discord kept cheating by making the hole cards tell him what they were.
We went to bed that night, after wrapping up the game, a lot more relaxed than when we had started. Now it was just a case of seeing how bad the damage was tomorrow morning.
The next morning, after breakfast and a couple mugs of strong coffee, Big Mac and I headed out, along with Applejack, to take a look at the damage. Leaving the farmhouse, we set off into the orchards. Unsurprisingly, the place was covered with branches that had been blown loose from trees in the storm. We’d gather this all up later, once we’d gotten a good look around and checked for any major damage. Initially though, apart from a few large branches, the trees seemed to have survived the maelstrom.
However, when we reached the outskirts of the west orchard, we came across quite the scene. Several of the older apple trees in this section, some of which were quite old by apple tree standards, had been felled by the high winds. It had evidently been quite a gale. While most had at one point or another snapped at the trunk, leaving an ugly, jagged half behind, some had been completely pulled up, roots and all.
“Sweet Celestia!” I exclaimed. “Those winds must have been blowin’ at a hundred miles an hour! You ever seen anythin’ like this, Mac?”
“Eeyup,” Big Mac replied. “Back when I was a colt; a bad winter storm blew in when Applejack was still livin’ with Aunt and Uncle Orange in Manehattan. I reckon the same thing happened here; a regular storm got out of hoof.”
“I sure hope so,” Applejack agreed. “Or else me and Rainbow Dash are gonna have words about the way she runs her show up there.”
I took a look around, counting the felled or otherwise destroyed trees. It was a real mess and provoked a strong feeling of sadness, seeing how these ancient patriarchs that had stood for so long had been so callously cut down. The only sadder image I could immediately bring to mind was a photograph my grandad had shown me from the last war, of a downed Spitfire that had crashed in a field near his house. It’s engine shot to bits and it’s propeller twisted around the cowling. The poor thing had looked like a fine racehorse that had taken a bad fall. Still, as sad as it was to see these dead trees, there weren’t too many. In the grand scheme of things, we’d gotten pretty lucky.
“What do you want to do with all this then, AJ?” I asked, turning to her. The cowpony pushed her stetson back as she thought for a moment.
“I reckon,” she said. “We take these out of the ground, stumps and all, and plant some of the older saplings in their place. At least we ain’t too far from the fruit bat reservation. We’ll see if Fluttershy was right about those trees bein’ stronger.”
Ah, of course! Just across the way from here, was a somewhat wild looking orchard, which had been given over to a swarm of vampire fruit bats. These little beasties had turned up a few years ago. In fact ‘Bats’ was one of the last episodes I saw before I wound up here. While Applejack had initially tried to drive the bats away, she and Granny Smith had ultimately been convinced to allow one section of the orchard to be given to them. They’d eat the apples on the trees, and pass the seeds. These would then, according to Fluttershy, grow into stronger apple trees that would offer a more bountiful harvest.
The section of the farm, which I’d jokingly dubbed, The Rez, was pretty much sealed off so as not to disturb the bats, who don’t exactly like visitors. Directly next door was a sort of nursery, where saplings from the seeds on the Rez were planted. Right now, a lot of these saplings were old enough to no longer be considered saplings, but not quite full grown either. In any case, they were big enough to transplant into the now vacant spots here, and would offer a reasonable yield come autumn.
“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed. “I’ll go fetch some rope and some tools along with the wagon.” AJ turned to her older brother.
“You okay to pull the stumps out, Mac?”
“Eeyup,” came the reply. This is what Mac is best at. Even Applejack has a time pulling out stumps on her own.
“I’ll go take a look around the Rez and pick out a few of the stronger saplings to transplant, then I’ll go find Apple Bloom. You boys haul out the dead trees, and we’ll plant the new saplings.”
“Okay, AJ,” I said.
With that, the three of us parted ways. Applejack headed for the fruit bats, I headed back to the house to get the necessary gear, while Mac took a closer look at the trees in question in order to get an idea of how we were going to get them out.
Heading back to the farmhouse, I found Granny Smith washing up after breakfast and Apple Bloom, since it was the weekend, sitting at the table doing some homework. I let the two of them know what we’d found after taking a look around, and AJ’s plan.
“Ah, it’s always a cryin’ shame when one of the older trees goes,” she said sadly. “But it’s a necessary process. Gotta make room for the new young saplings to step up. Can’t go keepin’ around old trees forever. Especially when they start producin’ less and less apples each season. Still, at least we didn’t lose too many. Those vampire fruit bat varmints really seem to come in handy though, since those trees will be much tougher to take down when the wind gets up. When you and Big Macintosh have gotten them all cut up into lumber, bring ‘em back here and I’ll make a start on firewood. Might even sell a bit to those arts and craft fellas at the art gallery in town.”
“Yeah, it is sad, Granny,” I agreed. “But like you say, at least they’re still useful. You sure you’re gonna be okay doin’ the firewood though?” That got the old matriarch to give me her signature look, one that Applejack has inherited.
“I may be gettin’ a little long in the tooth, but that don’t mean I can’t pull my weight, Bones,” she fired back. I kept my distance when she shouldered up the axe.
“AB?” I said, turning to the little filly, who’d kept her eyes on her maths homework. “You alright to head on out to the Rez and help Applejack pick out some saplings?” The filly’s ears splayed at the mention of the Rez. Just as I don’t like insects, she doesn’t like bats.
“I gotta go in there?” she said, a little fearfully. “With all them bats?” I smiled and did my best to reassure her.
“Bats are like bees, Apple Bloom. If you don’t bother them, they won’t bother you.”
To be fair, as much as I was afraid of bees, I’d found this to be the case. To this day, I’ve never been stung by one, after all, for bees, that’s a kamikaze move. It was the only way I’d found to reduce my fear and take steps to getting past it. Now wasps on the other hand, they’re more of the “you don’t bother us, but we’ll fuck you up anyway” type of guys. Hence why I abhor the horrid little insects and make sure to get rid of any nests as soon as I find them. As to bats, I’d actually found the vampire fruit bats to be remarkably civil, considering all the unpleasantness they’d dealt with from ponies in the past. They’re not sapient like cattle or sheep, but they’re not mindless animals either. Hence how we struck our current deal with them; they kept to the Rez, and we didn’t bother them, except to take new saplings.
“If you say so, Bones,” she said, still sounding a little uneasy.
“Hey, c’mon. They ain’t timberwolves,” I said. “Besides, AJ will be there with you. Ya ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.” Apple Bloom pondered that for a moment.
“Well, Scootaloo said that the best thing to do with a fear is to face it. That’s what Princess Luna told her to do.” I let out a laugh.
“Yeah, I remember,” I replied. “And she’s right too.”
With that, Apple Bloom trotted off towards the orchards. I meanwhile, headed out of the house and around the other side to the barn entrance to pick up the wagon, as well as a few saws, axes, and some heavy duty rope.
Having collected everything together, I returned to Big Mac with the wagon. The two of us first set to work cutting down the remaining husks of the trees. While the trees had been felled, many had split at the trunk, and it would be much harder to remove the remainder of the tree if this wasn’t tended to first. Mac and I worked together to cut them down until only seven neat stumps remained. Still, that was the easiest part.
The trees cut down, we now turned our attention to removing the stumps. First of all, we had to dig around the stump to expose the roots of each tree. The two of us set to work, Mac using his mouth, and me utilising my magic. Given the age of these trees, the root systems were extensive, and once exposed, these had to be cut away from the stump. To save time, instead of using axes, I again resorted to my magic, this time using a simple enough fire spell as a cutting beam to neatly cut through the roots. With that done, the two of us hitched ourselves up to a length of rope each, wrapped it around the stump, and used good old fashioned pony power to finally pull the stump free. With that done, all we had to do was fill in the hole. Sound easy? Try doing that six more times in one sitting.
While we were working on tree number five, Applejack and Apple Bloom returned from their expedition, along with Winona. Mac and I were busy working to ensure all the old tree’s roots had been dug up and removed, so that the new tree, when it was planted in its place, would have plenty of nutrition, and wouldn’t struggle to find room to grow its own system. The pair arrived, with AJ towing a small cart behind her with seven young saplings, each held in a large pot.
“Hey, AJ,” I said as I looked up from my work. “Are those the new transplants?”
“Sure are, Bones,” she said. “Picked ‘em myself, with help from Apple Bloom of course.” The little filly beamed at that. She’s rapidly starting to take up more of the workload on the farm these days.
“Well,” I went on, pausing to wipe some sweat of my forehead. “These four are all ready for you to plant. We’ve fetched out the stump and pretty much all the old roots, so they should have no trouble settlin’ in. We’re just about finished with this one, but it’s gonna be a while until we’re done.”
“No worries, sugarcube,” she said, unhitching herself from the cart. “Me and Apple Bloom can help out too.”
Winona too seemed inclined to help, for she quickly started digging at the tree roots that Mac and I were working to expose. The collie’s paws quickly tore through the soil, almost as fast as a shovel. Grabbing some spare tools, the two Apple sisters joined in as well; AJ helped dig around the roots, while Apple Bloom helped expose the smaller ones so that I could cut them away.
“So how was the Rez anyway?” I asked, making conversation as we worked.
“Not so bad,” Apple Bloom said. “You were right about them bats, Bones. This time of day, they’re all pretty much asleep. They didn’t bother me or Applejack none, or Fluttershy either.”
“Fluttershy?” I asked curiously. My little sister’s roommate, and bearer of the Element of Kindness, as well as animal care expert was normally to be found in her cottage, tending to her many animal friends. It was odd to hear of her coming over this way, although given how she had previously championed the cause of the vampire fruit bats, it wasn’t unexpected.
“She’s been checkin’ on the bats,” Applejack explained. “Makin’ sure that they’re stickin’ to their part of the farm and ain’t over huntin’. Apparently they can start going through their food supply real quick when they get whipped up into a feedin’ frenzy. And of course, she made sure we kept quiet as mice while diggin’ up the saplings. No sense in wakin’ them all up.”
Yeah, ain’t that the truth,” Mac agreed. A couple years ago, he’d inadvertently disturbed a group of bats that had been nesting in one of the trees off the Rez. Needless to say, he hadn’t much cared for the cacophony of noise, or the resultant swarming of bats.
“Is she still out there?” I asked as I finished cutting away the last of the roots and helped Apple Bloom sling the rope around the stump.
“I think so,” AJ replied. “Why?” I shrugged my shoulders
“Oh, just though I might go and say hello when we’re done here,” I said.
With the extra hands, or rather hooves, we soon had the old trees uprooted and had installed their successors. The young saplings looked out of place right now but with time, and just a little bit of help from Apple Bloom and her love of chemistry, we should be able to get a reasonable crop out of them by the tail end of Applebuck Season.
Applejack then declared it her intention to take a look around the fence line near the Everfree, and also check on the cattle to ensure that they’d not suffered any mishap during the unusually strong storm. Apple Bloom headed back to the farm to resume her homework, while I went in search of Fluttershy.
While Sweet Apple Acres is usually picturesque enough, the vampire fruit bat reservation is the exception that proves the rule. Contained behind a large chain link fence, and accessible by only two gates, both of which are covered with numerous warning signs to keep ponies out, the place is overgrown, dark and foreboding, looking more like somepony took a chunk of the Everfree Forest and dropped it into the farm than anything else.
I suppose it makes sense though. After all, the orchards are carefully maintained by ponies. This was nature being given a free rein, and what is the Everfree but a wild place? I found the padlocked gate still unlocked, with the key in the brass lock, so I knew Fluttershy was still in there. Opening the gate, which just to add more to the mood, decided to let out an ominous creak as it opened and closed, I headed inside, following the somewhat overgrown trail to the centre, where I figured I’d find Fluttershy.
As I made my way through the Rez, I began to feel as though I was being watched. While I couldn’t see them in the trees, I had no doubt that dozens of beady little eyes were trained on me right now. I tried to remember the advice I’d given to Apple Bloom; don’t bother them, they won’t bother you. It didn’t work particularly well though, and before too long, my heart was going like a drum.
“Don’t bother them, they won’t bother you. Don’t bother them, they won’t bother you,” I kept repeating to myself in a comforting mantra. Not that it did much to calm me as I heard an eerie shriek close at hand. I started in fright as I tried to track the sudden fluttering of leathery wings.
Still, I pushed on. If nothing else, I’d never be able to face Apple Bloom if I chickened out. And after all, this place was perfectly safe, and if Fluttershy was willing to come here, clearly not as scary as I thought.
“Calm down, Bones,” I said to myself. “You’re lettin’ your mind play tricks on you. Only thing out there is fruit bats and your friend. And even if there was somethin’ else, you’ve dealt with worse. You stood up to Tirek, fought the Tantabus to save Luna, you even got caught up in that mess in Canterlot. You’re not some horror movie extra.”
This line of thought lasted right up until I entered the next clearing. It was here, according to AJ, that I’d find Fluttershy, and indeed I did. However, what I found was a little...unusual, to say the least.
Walking into the clearing, I found it filled with fruit bats, all suspended upside down from the tree branches. A little unsettling perhaps, but nothing out of the ordinary. What was out of the ordinary was the butter yellow, pink maned pegasus also hanging with them, her tail wrapped around the branch above her.
As I walked into the clearing, the bats, and the pegasus began to stir, and Fluttershy turned to look at me, the drained husk of an apple in her mouth. My mind instantly went back to one fleeting moment of MLP, the ending of ‘Bats’, where it was shown that the whole ‘Flutterbat’ issue hadn’t quite been resolved. I’d occasionally wondered about that, since it was never referenced again, and nopony since had made mention of it.
This unnerving sight however, brought the memory back with a vengeance. And a resulting response, which was me screaming like a little filly.
Instead of leaping at me to devour me though, this horrifying apparition instead giggled and then burst out laughing. The two noises were more than enough to disturb the sleeping bats around us, who promptly awoke and took off in a swarm for quieter quarters.
For a moment, I stood there in shock and surprise, until one key detail clicked in my head. The manic cackling I was hearing wasn’t Fluttershy’s soft chuckle. It was…
“Discord!” I roared as I recovered myself. “I know it’s you!”
‘Flutterbat’ remained in her tree for a moment, howling with laughter and rocking back and forth with her tail. Shortly thereafter though, there was a flash of bright light and Flutterbat turned into Discord, who quickly uncoiled his tail from the tree.
As he landed on his mismatched feet, I glared at the draconequus. Discord’s strange mismatched form mirrored his unstable mind. Still, at least, thanks to the real Fluttershy, and one small mistake on his part involving a centaur, he’s reformed these days, and the worst he’ll do is...well, that. Between fits of laughter, he greeted me.
“Oh, you should have seen your face, Bones,” he said as he doubled up with glee. “In fact, here it is.”
With another snap of his eagle talons, his head turned into an approximation of mine, and let out a decidedly unmasculine scream.
Discord and I have a bit of a complicated relationship. I wouldn’t exactly call us friends, but nor do I consider him an enemy. At one time or another though, he’s been both. With my knowledge of MLP, I sort of knew what to expect from him when our paths first crossed. And being from another world and all, he does seem to find me interesting. The result of that is I have to put up with a steady stream of pranks, stunts and occasional misguided attempts at friendship. He’s friendly enough really to be honest, it’s just that he’s an omnipotent trickster and the closest thing Equestria has to a god entity. Still, I do try to be receptive to his more friendly jokes, and as scary as it might have been a moment ago, I had to give credit where it was due.
“What the hay was that for?!” I exclaimed, doing my best to hide the relieved smile that was forming on my face. Discord meanwhile, recovered and paused to wipe a tear from his eye.
“What can I say?” he replied. “I saw an opportunity and I took it.”
Ah, now here’s the thing with Discord. Everything he does, he does with some sort of motive. I’ve never known him to do anything just for fun. And while pulling a prank on me no doubt amused him, I was fairly certain that our meeting here was no accident. I said as much to him.
“Discord, I’ve known you a few years now. And I’ve never known you to be annoying, just for the sake of it. So out with it.”
“I’m serious,” he replied, putting his paw and talons up defensively. “I just wanted to say hi. You are a paranoid little pony aren’t you.”
“Only when it comes to you,” I replied. “You haven’t seen Fluttershy anywhere around here have you?”
“Why, yes, now that you mention it. She and I were just checking on all these adorable little apple suckers. She should be back before long if you fancy sticking around.” He then paused and chuckled to himself as leaping back literally stuck himself to the tree, clinging to it like some kind of mismatched spiderman.
I rolled my eyes at that. Celestia once said that Discord is like a six year old child; if you indulge him, he’ll just repeat the bad behaviour. Although to be honest, at this point, I think this is as reformed as he’s going to get.
Still, before I could fire back a retort at my erstwhile friend, Fluttershy did indeed appear at the opposite end of the clearing. Held in her mouth was what looked like an old fashioned doctor’s bag. While she isn’t a vet in the truest sense of the word, she does have some skills at looking after animals. After all, unlike most vets, like Dr. Doolittle she can simply ask the animal in question what the trouble is. Spotting Discord and I, she quickly set this bag down to let herself speak.
“Oh, hello, Blade Star,” she said in that sweet voice of hers. She’s one of a few ponies who prefers not to call me by my nickname. “What are you doing here?”
“Applejack said you were in the neighbourhood, Fluttershy,” I said kindly. “I thought I might drop by to say hello, that’s all. I see you brought Discord along to help you too.” The little pegasus nodded.
“Oh yes,” she said. “The two of us are checking up on all the baby vampire fruit bats, making sure they’re getting enough to eat and growing properly.”
“Discord, I didn’t know you cared,” I said, with just a slight hint of smugness. Reformed or not, Discord likes to project the air of aloofness and hates to admit that Fluttershy’s love of animals is rubbing off on him.
“Of course I care, Bones,” he replied hotly, folding his arms indignantly across his serpentine chest. “After all I invented them.” I borrowed Applejack’s often used dubious look.
“You ‘invented’ vampire fruit bats?” I asked, my tone making plain what I thought of such a statement. “Right, and I designed the bomb ketch.”
“It’s true!” the draconequus persisted. Before he could argue the point further though, we were interrupted as Fluttershy burst into an adorable fit of giggles.
“Oh, Discord. You’re so silly,” she said with a chuckle.
It was only visible for a fleeting moment, but I saw a subtle change in Discord. If it was visually possible, I’d say I saw his heart skip a beat. One of these days he’s going to have to fess up. Still, at least now I know how everypony felt when me and AJ were still dancing around each other like nervous teenagers.
Since I was there, I offered to help the pair with their work. Fluttershy was indeed checking up on all the baby bats, feeding them a refined apple sauce to help tide them over until their fangs grew in. The three of us chatted, and the conversation soon turned towards Fluttershy’s brief transformation, brought on by a botched spell of Twilight’s.
“So what was it like?” I asked curiously as the pegasus flittered from tree to tree like a house martin. “Were you conscious of what was going on?”
“Not really,” Fluttershy replied with a shake of her head. “It was more like a dream really. I only remember bits and pieces.”
“Still, must have been a pretty interesting experience,” I said.
“Well it certainly gave me a deeper understanding of what it’s like to be a vampire fruit bat,” she replied with a giggle. “And it does make for a good costume on Nightmare Night.”
I fondly remembered how last year, Fluttershy, with the help of her evil pet rabbit, had staged an elaborate scare for her friends in the corn maze, disguising herself again as the Flutterbat, complete with bat wings, fangs and red eyes. Luckily, Fluttershy doesn’t much care for doing it, and she hasn’t done anything like it since.
“You were certainly right about the bats helpin’ the trees in the long run,” I said as we worked our way through the small colony. “They might be guttin’ the older trees like fishes, but these saplings sure do look stronger than any of the other trees on the farm.”
“Yes, short term loss for long term gain,” Discord said. “That and this eyesore on your pretty little farm.”
“I thought you’d love all the chaos these bats brought,” I replied, turning to him.
“Chaos, yes,” Discord replied. “But this isn’t chaos, this is just...disgusting. All I can smell is rotting apple cores.” I chuckled.
“That’s nature for you, Discord,” I replied. “Go ask Dr. Fawn. I’m sure she could tell you some stories.”
Chuckling to myself, I remembered how we’d had to call her out a few weeks ago to help with the delivery of a calf. She’d been up to her shoulder in cow at one point trying to pull it out when it became clear it was breached. Suffice it to say, nature isn’t all about cute adorable animals, there’s puss, goo and horrid smells, to say nothing of the whole circle of life business. Leaving the draconequus to turn green, I turned my attention back to Fluttershy.
“How’s Lizzie been anyway?” I asked, asking after my little sister, and Fluttershy’s roommate, although Rarity’s rumour mill had it on good authority that she was planning to move in with Dewdrop soon.
“Oh, the poor thing’s been really worn out this past week, what with all the weather work over Winter Wrap Up. Still, she’s helped me look after my chickens, and she’s planning on doing a course for advanced weather patrol next month.” I showed my hand now.
“I heard scuttlebutt say that she was thinking of moving in with Dewdrop,” I offered. Fluttershy nodded at that, a little sadly.
“Yes, they’ve been thinking about it for a while. In a way, I’m happy for her, she’ll get to have a place of her own. The cottage does get quite crowded at times. And in a way, I’ll be glad to have the extra space too, but I’ll still be sorry to see her go. Although she has promised to stop by and help me with the animals whenever she can. Celestia knows Sweet Feather Sanctuary keeps me busy.”
“Well, you’ve got Discord here,” I suggested. “I’m sure you could spare a few hours a week, right?”
I turned to the draconequus and hoped he’d catch what I was driving at. The guy loves spending time around Fluttershy, pining after her so. Maybe some time alone would eventually get him to crack and open up to her, or she’d confess to him. I have it on good authority from a certain rabbit that the feeling is mutual. His response however, caught me off guard, as it was decidedly out of character for the Spirit of Chaos.
“Would that I could, Bones,” he said rather plainly, causing Fluttershy to look ever so slightly hurt. “But I have a couple of other irons in the fire at the moment, so I’m afraid I simply don’t have the time.”
For a moment, silence prevailed, and I stared at him as if he’d just announced that the sun was the centre of the universe and the planet moved around it in an orbit, instead of the sun being moved around by immortal alicorns. He liked Fluttershy, and I’d just set him up for a regular opportunity for the two of them to be alone together, and he’d turned it down flat. Of course, with Fluttershy there, I couldn’t exactly say much.
After that surprising refusal, the conversation turned back to the apple trees around us. The orchards here were a strange mix of ancient trees that had been taken over by the bats, and the young saplings growing hither and thither as they spat out the seeds. In effect, the place was something of a nursery for the new trees. And while most of these would be going to take root elsewhere on the farm, a few were bound to head further afield.
“Applejack was telling me about your plans to take a few of these stronger saplings to her cousin’s orchards in Appleloosa.”
Ah yes, we’d been planning that for a couple weeks now, ever since Braeburn wired us. While winter had been harsh up here, further south had been hit a lot harder. The poor stallion had lost more than a few trees to the inclement weather, uncontrolled by pegasi, drifting over from the badlands being the main reason, along with a severely dry winter. As such, we’d agreed to lend a hoof. The apple orchards were just as vital down there as they were up here, and having lost the better part of two dozen trees, Braeburn was desperate to make up for the deficit.
We were planning, that is me and Applejack, to head down there to make the delivery ourselves, as well as to take the rare opportunity to catch up with Braeburn. I’ve met him a few times now, and we get along pretty well, to the point that, while slightly drunk one night in the saloon down there, the apple stallion made a pass at me, and a good one too. If I was so inclined and wasn’t off the market, I might have taken him up on his offer. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to remember the incident, or hopes I don’t for he’s never spoken of it since. That aside though, we both have a keen interest in apples and the goings on down on the frontier and we share a love of history.
“Yeah, AJ and I are gonna head down there in the next couple weeks once everything’s set to go. It’ll take a couple of days to get everything worked out. Poor Braeburn really got hit hard by the winter.”
“I wonder what it’s like down there now since they’ve made peace with the buffalo,” Fluttershy pondered.
To be honest, I didn’t know much either. Of course, I was aware of the treaties Equestria had made with the Buffalo Nations, and the resulting cooperation between the two peoples, but I had only a dim idea of what it was like down there now. Actually, I was far more interested in the idea of me and Applejack sharing a hotel room for a couple of nights, several hundred miles away from Big Mac.
“Yeah, it’s been ages since any of us have been down there,” I agreed. “Maybe I can hunt up...what’s her name...Little Strongheart when I get there. I’ve been doing a bit of reading about the Buffalo, and I wouldn’t mind learning a little bit more about their culture. Might make for a good lesson at the school some time.”
I chatted a little while longer with Fluttershy. Discord took his leave not too long after, vanishing as he always does to Celestia knows where. It still rankled me how he’d been so unwilling to help Fluttershy out. Honestly, if I could I would myself. But between the farm, the school and my own research, like everypony these days, I simply don’t have the time. He on the other hand, being above such petty concerns as gainful employment and financial stability, was not so restrained. So why in Equestria had he refused? ‘A few other irons in the fire’ is what he’d said.
He was up to something, that much I was sure of. Had I known precisely what the idiot was planning, I’d have knocked him senseless then and there. It would have saved us all a lot of bother. But how was I to know what was going on in that head of his? I suppose he was trying to be helpful, in his own twisted way, and he genuinely meant well. Still, I do wish he could have just helped Fluttershy out at the sanctuary, confessed his love to her, and we’d all have jumped straight to the happily ever after with a slightly less confident Twilight, instead of what was looming on the horizon.
Hindsight though, as they often say, is twenty twenty, so I returned home later that afternoon simply puzzled by Discord’s actions. Beyond that though, I soon let the encounter drift into memory. A few days later, I had more important things on my mind, such as the four day trip I was taking down the Appleloosa.
Applejack and I got up fairly early, but after having breakfast, we broke from our usual routines. Granny Smith took Apple Bloom off to school, the both of them saying goodbye, for we wouldn’t be here when they got back. That left us alone with Big Mac, who would come with us to the station to see us off, before returning back to the farm to get started on the morning’s work.
AJ and I had spent the previous night packing, and making sure the dozen or so trees that would be accompanying us were all set to go. It’s never a good idea to keep a tree potted longer than necessary, and the three of us were keeping a careful eye on each of them, making sure they got enough water and nutrients to cope with the long journey south. As for ourselves, since ponies don’t normally wear clothes, the pair of us were able to travel fairly light. We each had the one suitcase with us, holding essentials. But beyond that, our only luggage was the trees.
With breakfast done, the three of us loaded up the wagon with the dozen or so saplings. Big Mac kindly offered to pull this for us on the way to the station, to save either of us the trouble of unhitching from it once the trees were all loaded up.
Leaving the farm, Applejack took to her signature pre-departure jitters. She can be a lot like Twilight at times. Especially when it comes to her leaving the farm. You’d never guess we were leaving the place in the capable hooves of her older brother and grandmother.
“And don’t forget to check on Wilbur,” Applejack was saying, referring to one of the pigs. “Dr Fawn says he’s still got some indigestion, so make sure you mind what you feed him.”
“Eeyup,” Big Mac replied, for what seemed like the twentieth time.
“And,” Applejack went on, remembering another trifle. “Make sure you spray those new pesticides on the grape vines tomorrow. I don’t want a repeat of last year, with half the vines getting sick.”
“Eeyup,” came the reply again, now a little more bored in tone.
“And make sure you take a look at the water pump in the farmyard. That things been actin’ real funny since one of the cows accidentally kicked it.” Big Mac snorted in annoyance.
“Eeyup,” he said, now through gritted teeth. Applejack paused for a moment, and I thought she’d picked up on the hint. Until…
“Oh, and make sure...” she didn’t get to finish her final point.
“I know, Applejack!” her big brother exclaimed. The sudden shout caught the nervous mare off guard. Luckily, he quickly cooled down. Plus it had the effect of showing her how irrational she was getting. Still, I never miss an opportunity to tease my marefriend.
“I think he gets it, AJ,” I half whispered to her, causing me to bat me behind the head, knocking my hat over my eyes. I chuckled to myself at her indignation.
A short while later, we arrived at the station. The train had come down from Canterlot, and was now on its way through Ponyville before heading further along the line. After here, it diverged into several routes, heading all over the country, from Manehattan to Vanhoover. We’d be riding in one of the passenger cars, while the trees would be safely stowed in one of the boxcars further back. Having bought our tickets, AJ and I quickly set about unloading the wagon and transferring the trees over to the train. In this case, my magic came in most handy, being more delicate than moving them all by hoof.
Applejack hopped aboard and checked the trees were all safe and secure. We’d brought a couple extra with us, just in case anything did happen, but it would be nice if we could arrive with trees to spare for Braeburn. After talking things over with the guard, or conductor I should say (I’ve never quite been able to loose my BR vocabulary when it comes to railways), we slid the freight car’s door shut and latched it. The two of us then jumped aboard with our own luggage.
As we did so, the whistle blew, a green flag waved and with slow, steady puffs, the train set off after the right away. The both of us leaned out the window and waved goodbye to Big Mac, and Ponyville in general as we started the journey south to Appleloosa. We soon picked up speed, leaving the station far behind, and after rattling over a few sets of points, we were on the line that would first take us to Dodge Junction, and then on to Appleloosa.
We pulled into Appleloosa about five hours later, having chatted, napped, read books, eaten a light lunch, and generally done all we could to while away the time. The sloping grasslands of Ponyville and the Canterhorn Valley had been replaced with the far more barren desert landscape of the frontier. Cacti jutted out across the landscape which, as we got closer to Appleloosa and civilisation, gave way to the prairie and open plains of the West.
As we pulled into the noticeably sparser Appleloosa station, we saw Braeburn waiting on the platform for us, looking more than a little relieved at the sight of the freight car. As usual, he was decked out in his faux leather jacket and a stetson of his own. Out here, it was pretty much the norm all around. Back in Ponyville AJ and I were easy enough to pick out with our hats. Here, you’d have a much harder time. Jumping down from the train, Braeburn greeted us as old friends.
“Applejack! Bones!” he cried. Hugging each of us in turn. “It’s great to see you. How’s things in Ponyville?”
“A darn sight better now that winter’s wrapped up,” AJ said. “It was much tougher than usual.”
“It sure was,” Braeburn nodded. “Here. I’ll give you a hoof unloading the new saplings Best get them planted as soon as we can. It’ll give me a chance to show you round the orchards as well.”
The three of us quickly set to work unloading the freight wagon and stowing the saplings in a large wagon Braeburn had brought along for us, as well as a couple of hands, or is that hooves here, from the farm. While they took the trees off to the orchards. Braeburn led us to the hotel in town where AJ and I would be staying.
Appleloosa was very much your classic cow town, sans the cattle. It was made up of a single main street that split off at the end, forming a T shape. Heading up from the train station, which also contained the post office, the telegraph office, and the overland freight company, on the left you had the local watering hole, followed by the doctor’s office, undertakers, a blacksmith, farrier, and metal work shop, and a few other small town amenities. On the opposite side of the wide, dusty street, you had the general store, which sold foodstuffs, farming supplies, and anything else a pony might readily need. Then you had a tailor shop, specialising in what Rarity would no doubt call rustic chic. After that was our hotel, which had five or six rooms. The place also, according to the painted advertisements outside, also offered warm meals, a barber and hot baths. Beyond that was a small souvenir shop (Appleloosa is becoming something of a tourist trap, slowly but surely, for those looking to get a taste of life on the range) which was operated by some of the buffalo, selling little trinkets and so forth. And finally at the end, was the town’s bank. Unsurprisingly, at the other end of the this street, a short jaunt across the way from the bank, stood the small sheriff’s office, and Sheriff Silver Star was currently sitting out in front of the place, keeping an eye out for anypony stupid enough to try and rob the place. Finally, on a little knoll diagonally across from the sheriff’s office stood the small schoolhouse, which reminded me a lot of Ponyville’s own schoolhouse.
All in all, it was a modest little town, and a classic example of a place right on the frontier. If you headed much further south, assuming you missed the Badlands and the now much smaller and less dangerous Changeling Kingdom, which itself proved quite a windfall for Appleloosa in terms of commerce, you’d hit the southern mountain ranges, which stood proud against the otherwise flat landscape. Beyond there lay...well, nothing nice, apart from those hippogriffs, who I honestly can’t stand.
Braeburn led us up the main thoroughfare and over to the hotel. Applejack and I, both to save cost and space, would be sharing a room. At least, that was the line we’d told everypony. Truth be told...well, we’re both ponies, we both love each other, and while physical intimacy for me isn’t as important as an emotional connection, I was not about to deprive Applejack of anything. As much as the Apple family have accepted our relationship, it is still difficult to be...intimate, when you have Big Mac across the hall and little Apple Bloom next door. If youth is wasted on the young, privacy is wasted on the old. So the two of us considered this to be something of a romantic getaway.
That, of course, would come later. Right now, we had more pressing matters to attend to. After checking in and grabbing our keys, we dropped our bags off in the room and quickly rejoined Braeburn, who led us out of town and on to the orchards.
The orchards in Appleloosa were, of course, nowhere near the size of Sweet Apple Acres. Still, the operation was very impressive. The Earth Ponies here had managed to cultivate the trees, despite the much drier soil and a much greater variety of pests. Back on Earth, people in the fandom had said to me how Earth Ponies didn’t really do much, when compared to pegasi or unicorns, lacking either flight or impressive magic. But just as pegasi fly through their own innate magic, Earth Ponies also have magic of their own. In addition to giving them superior strength and stamina, they also have a remarkable connection to the land. And yes, while unicorns could use spells to grow crops, my own research has shown, even when using Twilight Sparkle herself, who is nothing short of a magical prodigy, as a test subject, unicorn magic will not produce as high a crop yield when compared to the efforts of Earth Ponies.
The farm was not too far from Appleloosa itself, and Braeburn had quite a nice farmhouse on the smallholding. Like everything else, it had a frontier feel, and like a lot of the buildings here, the occupants had also been the builders. The cabin, while modest, had been built by Braeburn with his own hooves, and it now had the homely look of a ranch house. He himself lived alone, but the farm also had several other houses, cabins and bunkhouses on it for the others who call the place both their home and their livelihood. The farm even had its own general store stocking the essentials.
“This is mighty impressive, Braeburn,” I said, pushing my hat back on my head a little as we took a look around. “I ain’t never seen a farm with its own store before. You folks have really expanded since we were last down here.”
“We sure have,” Braeburn replied with a smile. “Once the conflict with Buffalo died down, ponies really started flocking to Appleloosa, mainly looking for work, but we get plenty of tourists too. They stay in the town and go visiting the Buffalo country. Now that we’re working together, we’re all making more than a few bits off of both businesses.”
“How’s that?” AJ asked curiously. “I get folks stayin’ in the hotels, but what about the farms?”
“Remember how the buffalo didn’t like us plantin’ trees because they were on their stampeding grounds?” Braeburn asked. Applejack thought.
“Er...yeah, kinda,” she replied. “I remember they wanted the land for somethin’, and it weren’t apple trees.”
“Well when we all came to an understanding,” Braeburn explained. “One of the agreements we reached was that we could plant the trees here, but much further apart than usual. See how the trees have been planted?”
Braeburn was right. In contrast to Sweet Apple Acres, with its narrow, straight rows of apple trees, the ones here were planted much further apart, and not always in straight rows, although I imagine that was partly due to the prevailing soil conditions as well as other factors.
“Well, the idea,” he went on. “Is to make it so that the buffalo can stampeded on through when they want to, without knocking down the trees. The vibrations from their hooves, well, it’s just like the Running of the Leaves, only much more powerful. They can actually shake loose the apples. We cleared this entire orchard in just a day.”
“That’s genius!” I exclaimed. Braeburn however, now turned melancholy.
“Of course it’s not like there’s much to harvest right now. And the weather’s cost us so many trees.”
Like farmers back on Earth had genuine connections to their livestock, even those destined for the slaughterhouse, ponies have a connection with their plants. I remembered when one of the local farmers near me had nearly twenty head in his sixty head milk herd test positive for foot and mouth during the outbreak in the ‘90’s. They all had to be culled and the bodies burned. He was devastated, and while the herd survived that terrifying disaster that swept through the English countryside like a scythe, he never truly recovered from the loss. He knew each of those cows, knew their personality, their likes and dislikes. It was almost like losing family. And that’s ignoring all the financial implications. There’s a reason farming has such a high rate of suicides.
I put a comforting hoof on Braeburn’s shoulder as he looked out over the orchards. One farmer to another, I had a good idea what he was going through.
“Don’t worry, Braeburn,” I said reassuringly. “These new trees are the toughest thing either AJ or I have ever seen. Hay, once the orchard gets a little bigger, I reckon you ought to consider settin’ aside some of it for the fruit bats. It’s a short term loss, but a great long term gain.”
Braeburn was about to speak when we were interrupted by a new arrival.
“Wise words, little grey pony.”
Turning around, I found myself nose to nose with an intimidating looking bison. He stood far taller than Big Mac, and could probably even give Princess Celestia a run for her money. Atop his head was a large headdress, made of feathers, held in place by a blue cloth band, while two other feathers, one on each side, hung down along the sides of his face.
I must confess, having grown up and spent most of my life in Britain, and at most Europe in general, I knew very little about the buffalo, and the Native American tribes on which they were based. I figured, at least based on what Dad had told me from his meetings with them, that they had some similarities to the Lakota or Cheyenne tribes; Plains Indians to use the catch all term; the guys who cut the 7th Cavalry to pieces at Little Big Horn and for the first time since 1812, put the Yanks in their place.
But beyond this passing familiarity, I knew very little, and what little I knew came from stereotypical portrayals in the media. Consequently, being the part time academic that I am, I was looking to change that. And it wasn’t like I was short of information out here either. While much of the Native American culture had been damaged, outright destroyed, or was now held by those people as a closely guarded secret, the same could not be said of the Buffalo Tribes. Since ponies understood what was meant by the phrase ‘for all of time’ and didn’t see it as their role to go wandering around committing genocide and calling it God’s Will, the peace between the two nations had fostered a major cultural exchange. Ponies were learning about the Buffalo and vice versa.
And who better to educate than the chief of the tribe, for the bison standing before me was none other than Chief Thunderhooves, the leader of the buffalo in this part of the world. While once upon a time he had called for war against the ponies to oust them from Appleloosa and the territory in general, he was now a peace chief and favoured co-existence.
Still, when you’re standing nose to nose with him, peace chief or no, he was quite the intimidating character. Luckily, Braeburn was there to bail me out.
“Well howdy there, Chief Thunderhooves,” he said in a welcoming tone. “What brings you down this way?”
“I saw the train from Ponyville pull in,” he explained, his voice a deep baritone. “I am glad to see your orchards are recovering from the harsh winter we have endured.”
“I’m just glad that we were able to share our supplies as we did,” Braeburn replied. The Chief’s tone then became more grave.
“You have healed the physical wound to your orchards, but I cannot help but sense a deeper wound in your spirit. The death of any creature is a painful burden. I would like to offer my people’s help.”
“How so?” AJ asked curiously.
“We are preparing Inipi, what you may know as a sweat lodge,” he explained. “With the return of Spring, it is time to renew ourselves, just as the world does. It will help you heal from this experience, and connect you again with the world around you. Your friends too, are welcome to join.”
Braeburn readily agreed to attend the ceremony. And while I was a little hesitant at first, Applejack and Braeburn got me on board. After all, I’d said to Applejack how interested I was in what it was like down here. What better way to learn about buffalo culture than to experience it for myself?
And so, after the new saplings had all been planted, we followed Chief Thunderhooves back to the buffalo village to take part in the ceremony. As it turned out, for me at any rate, it would be a most unusual experience, and a harbinger of things to come.
Chief Thunderhooves led us away from the orchards and to a fairly isolated spot, a fair distance both from Appleloosa and his own village. It was here we found several other bison working on the lodge. It was a fairly small, squat affair, standing not much taller than than the buffalo themselves. It would certainly be quite snug in there.
The structure was primarily made out of a wooden frame, which was then covered with several large blankets of various designs. At one end, facing to the east was a large opening, created by pulling a couple of the blankets back. Beyond that though, there were no door or windows. I suppose it would do a poor job of keeping the heat and steam in otherwise.
Directly in front of this was a large fire, which was being tended to be a ‘firekeeper’ as Thunderhooves called them. Within this inferno were a number of large, smooth stones. It was these that would be brought into the lodge. Pouring cool water on them would create the steam needed for the sweat. Right now, they were glowing red hot.
“You ever done this before, Braeburn?” Applejack asked with a note of trepidation in her voice.
“Sure, once or twice,” he said with a nod.
Not too far away was a small table with several water bottles on it. Braeburn grabbed one of these and promptly downed it.
“I’d get plenty of water before we start,” he advised. “It gets real intense in there with the heat; best to drink as much as you can now.”
Following his example, Applejack and I drank a bottle each. It was cool and refreshing in the warm afternoon sun. The air smelled of sage or maybe tobacco, which had been put into the fire, giving it an unusual scent. As we stood talking, another bison joined us. He was much older than Thunderhooves. But the one thing that stood out was his colour. In contrast to all the other buffalo I’d seen, his hide was a pure white. I knew little of Native American culture, but I did know that the buffalo was sacred in many of their religions, and a white one more so. If I remember right, the gene giving the colour was expressed in 1 in 10,000, making a white buffalo a truly rare sight.
“Greetings, my friends,” he said, his voice softer than Thunderhooves. “I am White Eagle.”
“White Eagle is a ‘medicine man’,” Braeburn explained. “He leads the sweat lodge and makes sure everypony is safe.”
“Indeed I do,” White Eagle said with a nod. “I see young Braeburn has shown you the importance of keeping hydrated before joining us in the sweat. It does require a great deal of endurance, but if you push through, the grandfathers will have much to teach you.”
“Grandfathers?” I asked. White Eagle gestured to the stones that rested in the fire.
“These are the grandfathers,” he said. “Everything in this world has a spirit, even stones. They have been around far longer than any of us, even the pony princesses, and so they have much to teach us. That is why we sweat; to confront our problems and discover ways to overcome them. Anyway, I think they are warm enough now. It is time we make a start.”
And with that, this slightly odd old man led us all into the lodge and we began to ceremony.
White Eagle went in first, then Braeburn, then AJ and then me. The first thing I felt, unsurprisingly, was heat. It hit you with a genuine force to the point that I almost staggered at the doorway. I’d been in a sauna once or twice in my life. This was nothing like that. It was far, far hotter than any sauna, and that was just from the small pile of pebbles in the centre of the lodge. Pushing on, I followed the others inside.
Our medicine man took his place near the entrance flap, while the rest of us gathered around the fire pit. I found myself further from the entrance in what I later learned was the most difficult spot. We’d all removed our clothing before we came in. Braeburn had shed his jacket, and all of us had taken off our hats, since even they could reduce the heat we lost. Applejack had even taken down her mane, which now hung loosely around both shoulders. In front of White Eagle sat a small ceremonial drum, as well as a few herbs which would be burnt as the ceremony went on.
As we all settled down, I tried to take a look around. There wasn’t much to see. Apart from the glow of the fire, it was entirely dark thanks to the thick blankets surrounding us. I could make out the ponies besides me, but little else.
The ceremony began with the first few stones being brought in, carefully held on a short of pitchfork by one of the firekeepers, who carefully passed it to White Eagle. He then carefully placed them into the pit, before handing the pitchfork back. Now the temperature really started to climb as the last of the fresh air became heated. I was already sweating like a literal horse as the entry flap was closed and we were encased in the darkness and heat of the symbolised womb. White Eagle now began to speak.
“There are four rounds to the inipi ceremony. This is the first. The East. Each round of stones represent one of the four directions. We pass from the east, where the sun rises, and travel west, until the thunder beings decide it is our time to leave this place. The drum here, is the heartbeat of our mother. It is here to guide you, and help focus your mind. You will experience many things here, some of which you will not understand. Know that, while some of these things may seem frightening, they cannot harm you, and the good spirits we have called forth here will protect you.”
With that, he began to beat the drum in a steady rhythm that was indeed, not unlike a heartbeat. As he did this, he began to sing in his native tongue. My body meanwhile, slowly began to adjust to the temperature and the heated air. It was no longer quite as stifling, and I figured I could probably endure it for the duration of the ceremony.
That lasted right up until the moment White Eagle poured water on the grandfather stones. There was a hissing sound and a column of steam shot up from the rocks. Instantly, the temperature seemed to double. Now the place felt a little more like a sauna. This continued for I don’t know how long. The heat and darkness seemed to distort time. All I was really conscious of was the steady drumming and White Eagle’s singing. That and the sweat that was quickly matting my mane.
Eventually, the first rounded ended, and the flap to the outside was opened again, letting some cool air rush in while the next round of stones were placed in the pit. I took a look around with the better light. Like me, Applejack and Braeburn were drenched. The latter was even panting a little as his body tried vainly to regulate its temperature. White Eagle too was sweating like a hog, but having undergone the better part of eight years of training for this role, he was well equipped to handle the heat.
The reprieve was short lived however, as it was quickly closed again and the next round began. This was the second round, or the second door. White Eagle began to sing and beat the drum again. I was really suffering now, as the heat began to mess with my head.
As White Eagle poured more water onto the stones, my vision began to swim. I felt somewhat like I was about to pass out, but at the same time, I felt as steady as ever. The lodge around me began to fade out as darkness crept in. On some level, I knew this to be an effect of the heat, but on the other hand, I wanted to see if I really would experience some kind of vision here, so I simply did my best to relax, ignore the feeling that I was inhaling fire, and listen and see what the spirits wanted me to see.
What happened next is...difficult to describe. I’ve had dreams, day dreams, nightmares, night terrors, and one ketamine induced hallucination and out of body experience when I got badly scalded as a kid. None of those fitted with what happened next. I was both fully aware of where I was, and yet I wasn’t. I was awake and dreaming, there and not there, and alive and dead. I suppose the closest description would be that I went into a sort of trance state, with my brain caught in some weird heat stroke induced loop.
White Eagle had told us that we would see things during this sweat. But I assumed he meant ‘see’ as in a revelation, not as in a literal vision. It came to me in flashes, out of focus and out of context. It was both literal and surreal, some things made sense, others I could barely comprehend.
First, I saw the sun and moon, both setting in the sky as a solitary bat flittered from apple tree to apple tree in the orchards. Beneath them were two large deer. These two watched the bat as it flew between the trees for a moment, before they lay down, and seemingly went to sleep. As they did so, the sun and moon rose up again from the horizon, seemingly tied together by a band of energy that was linked to this bat. The bat then changed into a butterfly and flittered away.
I then saw a coyote, with red and yellow eyes stalking through the trees, keeping its distance from me, but slowly drawing nearer to the sun and moon as they hung linked together in the sky. It barked excitedly, in an almost friendly way, at the two celestial bodies, and from its mouth spewed an inky darkness, like liquid shadow. For a moment, this darkness seemed to engulf the sun, moon, and the bond between them, including the small butterfly, which now flittered to and fro in a frightened state. A moment later though, there was a flash, and the butterfly changed again, this time into an eagle. The strange shadows relented and were pushed back towards the coyote. The coyote too underwent a transformation. For the first time, I saw something that made sense; I saw Discord who was cheering and clapping like he’d just seen the end of a good buckball game, seemingly to applaud the eagle as it flew, pulling the sun and moon together across the sky.
I was, for my part, both an observer, and a participant in this strange apparent battle. As sweat continued to pour down my face, and the drum continued to beat its steady rhythm. A moment later, I saw the eagle again, still pulling the two bodies across the sky. At the ends of my vision though, the same shadows persisted.
These were the only things I couldn’t see through. They were ice cold, and yet as blazing as the sweat, filled with anger and rage. Within this blackness was another coyote, but this one had cruel dark green eyes, and lacked the vague friendly demeanour of the previous one, yet they seemed somehow familiar. The land around it was dead and lifeless, seemingly sad in and of itself. It growled and snarled, but seemed somehow held back, restrained, and as the shadows receded, it seemed to become more and more fearful of the eagle, until finally it vanished in a flash of white light.
As the light receded, all that remained was the eagle, guiding the sun and the moon. The two deer stood by, watching, seemingly content to rest under the light of the sun and the moon, as did all the other animals of the world.
With a sudden start, I regained my senses. I was breathing heavily, sweating more than ever, and felt a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over me. It suddenly became a struggle to stay upright. My rational mind tried vainly to process what had just happened. The images, while I’ve done my best to write them down in the order they happened, were all out of focus, coming thick and fast. It was difficult to make any sense of what I had seen, apart from a menagerie of transforming animals.
I couldn’t speak though, my throat was parched from the heat, and I barely had the strength to keep my eyes open, never mind formulate a coherent sentence. As the sweat went on though, and we now entered what White Eagle told us was the final round, my strength seemed to return. The sweat went from a pain to endure, to something that was almost comforting. The old bison had said the sweat was to help heal and rejuvenate us, as well as to help us solve problems in our lives. What problem all those animals were meant to solve, I had no idea. Luckily, that was why we had a medicine man on hand.
Eventually, the final phase of the sweat came to an end. The entrance flap was again reopened and we were all let out into the cool refreshing air of a blazing summers day. In comparison to what we’d just gone through, it might as well have been the dead of winter.
White Eagle told us that, after a sweat, it was customary to eat a meal together, and from there ,we could discuss with him anything we might have seen that needed explanation. However, he also reminded us that anything that was said in the sweat, prayers, hopes, fears, were to remain with the sweat, and should not be discussed outside of the lodge.
I honestly don’t remember anyone saying anything, but apparently we all spoke at length, including me.
After we all took a dip in the nearby river to cool off and make it so that we could stand within a hundred paces of somepony without killing them, White Eagle led us back to the buffalo village, and here we would all sit down to a dinner. On the way though, as we were walking, White Eagle came up to me. Applejack was walking along with Braeburn, seemingly none the worse for wear. I could hardly say the same for myself.
“You look troubled, my friend,” he said in that low, soft voice of his. “I have seen many like you before. Your mind is full of questions; trying to understand that which cannot always be understood.”
“I...saw things, in the lodge,” I said after a moment. “I don’t know what you’d call it. A vision? Insight?”
“The spirits spoke to you,” White Eagle said, nodding sagely. “That is good. Now we must discover what they were saying. What did you see?”
So I told him, as best I could recall. I haven’t always had the best visual memory. I’ve got most of the original Star Wars script up here, along with Celestia knows how much MLP lore, to say nothing of Star Trek and other half remembered TV shows. But remembering images has always been harder for me. I was never very good at Kim’s Game for instance, or those stupid memorise the pattern games. Still, I did my best. I told White Eagle about the animals I had seen, how I’d seen Discord. He listened with silent interest, and only spoke when I came to the end of my story.
“Hmm, that is a powerful vision, young one,” he said sagely. “It is just possible that the spirits may have shown you what will be in the future.”
“But what does it all mean?” I asked. “A bat that turns into a butterfly that turns into an eagle that fights a coyote that is really Discord and then another coyote that isn’t, all for everypony to lie down and relax.”
“Well,” White Eagle began. “The bat can symbolise change, and the need to let go of old habits. The butterfly too, is a creature of metamorphosis, and an important one too. The eagle though is a powerful creature, a symbol of courage and strength, which explains how it vanquished the coyotes.”
“And what do they represent?” I asked. “I’m guessin’ somethin’ bad?”
“The coyote can be a symbol of bad things, yes,” White Eagle agreed. “But he is also a trickster, a clown. He is not always an evil thing.”
That summed up Discord alright. Sort of evil, sort of good, always the trickster. So much like Q. Still, it unsettled me the way he seemed to be in some way acting against the princesses in my dream.
“The other coyote though,” White Eagle went on. “He is bad medicine, what you ponies would call dark magic; an evil force. You may face trouble before long.”
White Eagle didn’t know how right he was. Change was coming, and changes are rarely smooth.
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With abimals like cows, I woukd say its more symbiosis. They're sapient sure, but since they aren't very intelligent they're more like legal minors, and their being farm animals is more them paying rent.
The vision is concerning, but unless its touching on a certain plotline from the comics there being more than one coyote doesn't really make much sense, nor there being a distinction between good & bad medicine with what it symbolizes.
I'm somewhat surprised that Bones didn't inquire about inipi etiquette. Like if there was an order for entrance into the sweat lodge, or if there was an order of seating arrangement. Or about things which may cause offense to the buffalo culture. Unless the peace treaty makes them more lax and willing to forgive offenses as a difference in culture?