Sun & Moon Act II: A Crown Divided

by cursedchords

Chapter 16: Wilted Cabbage

“Every year winter comes and the green things all die. Why is it that we Earth Ponies allow ourselves to become so attached to things that we know we are going to lose?”

- Terraria, Master of the Order of Earth

In the weeks that followed Wind’s speech in the square, he felt like things had improved at least a little bit. Ponies didn’t stare quite so much when he walked through town, though he still detected a distinct humour in many of the townsfolk whenever he was having a conversation with them. They may not yet believe everything that he had to say about Cloudsdale, but at least they were willing to accept that he wasn’t crazy, and that was a very livable first step.

He spent most of that time on Sycamore’s farm anyway, helping out wherever the family let him. The roof was the primary job that still needed work done, with batches of new tiles arriving every morning, and whole afternoons spent nailing them to the new timbers and boards that made up the structure. Naturally, since the damage was his fault in the first place, Wind wanted to be sure that it was repaired as well as possible.

“It’s a real shame that I still can’t fly right now,” he said, hefting another load of tiles off of the wagon and starting the trek back to the estate.

Sycamore lifted her own bundle of tiles beside him. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t you flying what broke the roof to begin with?” The wind caught the strands of her flaxen mane and threw them over her shoulder, like grass blowing in the wind.

“I wasn’t really flying,” Wind said defensively. “Trust me, when I can take these bandages off, I’ll show you what a real pegasus of Cloudsdale can do. You know that we take flying ability very seriously up there.”

“Serious enough that you saw no problem with venturing out at night into the middle of a storm?” The question had a twist of challenge in it, but one look at Sycamore’s eyes revealed that she was anything but seriously asking. More playful ribbing.

“That’s different. There was quite a lot going on that influenced my decisions that night. Trust me that nopony in their right mind would have followed me if they knew what was going to happen.”

As they came around back of the house and into the yard, which was now mostly smoothed over again, the crater of Wind’s impact forgotten, Fern was there to meet them, sweat dripping from his brow.

“I’ll take those if you don’t mind,” he said cheerfully, extending a hoof over to Wind’s bundle.

Wind gave the tiles over. “You know you don’t have to come down for me, right? I can carry those up the ladder for you, and you could go right on with the roofing work.”

“You sure?” Fern called back, advancing up the ladder slowly as he grasped the bundle with one leg while pulling himself up with the other. To Wind it actually looked rather ridiculous, though he supposed that was just how earth ponies got things done. So many things became a lot harder when a pony wasn’t able to fly. “I’m trying to stay easy on you. After all, the doc said that you shouldn’t exert yourself too much while you heal up.”

“I can use a ladder, Fern,” Wind noted dryly.

“Have you ever used one before? How would you know?” the earth pony answered, laughing to himself after having said it. He picked up his hammer right away and went back to nailing on the roof tiles, the banging of the hammer cutting off any chance Wind had to retort. Grimacing, he started heading back to the wagon to pick up another bundle.

Having delivered her own stack, Sycamore trotted up behind him a second or so later. “Hey, I hope that you’re not letting him get to you. Fern’s just a little, well, set in his ways.”

“And what ways would those be, exactly?” Wind muttered, less than thrilled at the crack. “He acts like I’m the first pegasus that he’s ever met.”

It was hard to remember but there were other pegasi around the town, though not a whole lot of them. Most were weather workers on assignment here from Canterlot, and from them Wind had at least been able to learn the relative position of Southoofton in the general scope of the world. None of them had ever heard of Cloudsdale either, though.

“Well, in a way, you kind of are, Wind,” Sycamore said. “Yes, we’ve met pegasi before, but never anypony like you. To most farmers, pegasi are simply coworkers. They show up every so often with the rain, and then we don’t hear from them again for a while. Especially these past few years, that while can be a really long time. You’re the first one that we’ve ever had wake up with us in the morning and, well, help tile a roof. It’s a different experience. Frankly, I’m surprised that you’ve integrated so well to our way of living.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I imagine living in Cloudsdale is surely nothing like down here on the surface.” Sycamore let her gaze drift skyward, as if searching for the city somewhere off on the horizon. “For example, when you lived in Cloudsdale, when did you wake up in the morning?”

“With the sunrise, generally,” he replied as if it was obvious. “There’s not much of a nightlife in the city.” Not much in Pega’s Perch, at least. Once, he, Shine and Tin had ventured into the Undercity late one summer’s evening, and there had been plenty there to keep them entertained from dusk till dawn, if they had any money to spare at least.

Wind’s answer didn’t look like it had been what she had been hoping for. “Okay, well how about the work, then? I don’t think that you had ever said what your profession was back in the city.”

“Oh, well I didn’t have one yet. I was actually supposed to choose it in a month.” He decided to leave out the fact that waiting until you had to choose something to do was decidedly irregular. “I was still studying for the most part.”

“Well, there you go! I’m sure that a student’s life in the city must be completely different than the way that things are down here. I don’t mean to offend, but I’ll bet you haven’t been worked like we’ve done you for in years!” Having reached the wagon again, she picked up another bundle of tiles as if to emphasize her point. “And yet you haven’t even complained, not once.”

“How could you expect me to?” Wind asked, accepting another bundle as she passed it to him. “On top of everything else that you’re going through, especially when a good chunk of the work has been caused by me in the first place? I was raised better than to be ungrateful in a circumstance like this.”

Sycamore flashed him a sharp grin in response. “Well, it’s appreciated all the same. Things could get tense around here before, when we had nothing better to do than make-work and wish for rain. You’ve kept things light, and even Fern appreciates that, though he’d never tell you. I just hope that you can get over all of the… well, inconveniences that come from our current position.”

Wind put down his bundle by the side of the road so that he could take hold of Sycamore’s shoulder, turning her around to look her straight in the eyes. “Sycamore,” he said, completely serious. “My major inconvenience right now is not being able to fly. But if I was forced into that position, then having to endure with your family has been the best way that I could have done it. I can’t say that I don’t wish I was back in Cloudsdale, but I can say that I’m happy to be here with you.”

Despite the heartfelt speech, Sycamore simply rolled her eyes. “A simple thank you would have sufficed, alright?” She picked up her tiles again. “But I appreciate knowing that all the same.”

As she started walking back toward the house again, she left Wind standing still for a moment, wondering. What had he been trying to do just then? He wanted to be sure that Sycamore knew he was serious about how thankful he was for her help. But she was right, a simple thank you would have sufficed very well for that. For some reason he had wanted to look into her eyes as he said it, though. Those beautiful green eyes framed by her golden hair. Wind shook himself. He had just gotten through convincing everypony that he wasn’t crazy. That would have been bad enough if he didn’t start over again now.

He was just about to follow after Sycamore when he heard a rapid clopping of hooves approaching over his shoulder. When he turned, he could see a little cloud of dust rising over the meadow that led into town. At the front of the cloud, running as quick as his hooves could carry him, was a short white earth pony with a closely-clipped tan mane stretched out behind him as he ran.

It was Cattail, one of Sarsaparilla’s sons, and actually well into his middle years, though he was short enough that you could mistake him for a young adult. Wind studied him as he came in, but couldn’t quite tell what news was bringing the stallion over by the look on his face. Cattail just looked exhausted, like he had run all of the way to Canterlot and back in order to get his news.

“Oh, Wind,” Cattail exclaimed as he came to a sliding stop astride the wagon, his voice the sound of a tinkling stream. The plume of dust that had been following after him swept over the pair of them for a second before settling down again. “Sycamore and her family are still around right?”

“Yeah, they’re just out back,” he returned, gesturing to the house. “Is everything okay, Cattail?”

“You know what? I can’t say that I know anymore. But I’ve got some news that they’re definitely gonna’ want to hear.” Cattail leaned himself up against the wagon to get his breath back. “Would you mind fetching her if that’s not too much trouble?”

As if on cue, Sycamore stuck her head around the side of the house. “I see you, Cattail. What’s got you and yours all riled up like this? Has the old fella finally decided to go dry from now on?”

Cattail shook his head, forgoing the witty quip that members of his family usually saved for comments on their father’s habits. “This is a lot more important. The Old Lady is calling it quits.”

Sycamore put a hoof up to her mouth, prior snark gone. “Amber? And her whole clan with her?”

The white stallion nodded emphatically. “They’ve been packing their things up for the whole morning, and I expect that they’ll be taking their leave soon. In any event, Golden is selling off everything that they can’t take with them right now in the village square.”

Sycamore cast an anxious look back over toward the homestead, weighing her options, while Wind watched on, curious. He'd met Amber Waves on his first introductory trip through the town, and her impression was one that he wouldn’t soon forget. Her and the family underneath her must have made up something close to half of Southoofton’s remaining population. There wouldn’t even be much of a town left without them.

Sycamore set her chin. “Fern can deal with things for now. Thanks for the heads-up, Cattail.” She motioned for Wind to drop his tiles. “Come on. We need to see if we can stop this.”

“Stop it?” He fell in beside her as the three began a steady jog back the direction that Cattail had come. “Surely it’s the family’s right to sell the things that they’ve accrued over the years, especially if they’re moving on.”

Sycamore scowled. “Not the sale! We have to convince Amber to stay on! If her clan heads for Canterlot, it’s the nail in the coffin for the rest of Southoofton. There’s almost nothing left without her.” Her voice boomed with concern as they picked up the pace.

Up ahead, the village started to materialize over the dust of the meadow, and Wind could see a long line of carts and wagons stretching out of town to the north. Ponies were milling about the line, cinching harnesses and packing away the last few odds and ends that would fit on the carts. None of them looked particularly happy to be out doing it. As they grew closer, a fast-talking voice came to their ears, too.

“Forty-five to you sir, I hear fifty, do I hear fifty? Fifty, I hear fifty for this a’ beautiful set of crockery! Fifty, good! Can I get fifty-five?” Around a corner, and the crowd at the center of the square came into view, with Golden standing above them on a large wire spool, a wagon load of odds and ends behind him. It looked like the whole area had gathered, but Sycamore didn’t head that way. Instead she went straight to the head of the wagon train, there to find Amber wearing a black shawl and inspecting the wheels of her lead wagon with an exacting gravity.

The old mare saw them coming from a ways off. “A pleasant afternoon to you, Sycamore,” she said, offering them a very slight bow. “It’s good that I should be able to offer you farewell today.”

“Amber, why didn’t you tell me that you were planning on going?” Sycamore said, respectful but with an air of challenge.

“Apart from the fact that I knew you’d try to convince me to stay?” Amber went back to looking over the wheel, tapping the spokes with her hoof to be sure that there were no hidden cracks. “Honestly, I woke up this morning and something in me just knew that there wasn’t much point in going on anymore. I told my lads that we were done, and there weren’t any objections. We probably should have left weeks ago, if a pony with a lick of sense was in charge of things.”

“But what about your estate? What about your garden? Your family was the one that founded this town so many moons ago. Is that all just going to go away?”

“I’m plenty sorry to see it go,” Amber said wistfully. “Especially since I expect that Cotton will be the one to snap it up. But he can have it if he wants. See what he can do with it. I told Golden just last night, ‘I ain’t never seen such a sorry excuse for a farm.’ Sure, it ain’t our fault, but we’re swimming against the river’s current. I guess today I decided that I’m not going to fight it anymore.”

Sycamore raised her hoof to punctuate another point, but Amber cut her off. “Sorry, but after all this work, you sure ain’t convincing me to unpack it all again, Sycamore. I’ve always appreciated your spirit, but I know in my bones that this is what I’m doing. Ain’t no pony going to convince me otherwise.”

After giving the wheel one more tap, Amber turned around with a satisfied nod. “We still have a minute or two until Golden gets everything wrapped up in the square. Let’s talk about something happier.” She eyed Wind up and down. “Has she made a proper pony out of you yet, boy?”

Wind shook his head. “No, ma’am. Well, yes, I mean. Er, I think I’m a proper pony already, or at least I should hope so…”

Amber interrupted him with a throaty laugh. “I am going to regret not being able to see how things wrap up with the two of you. If you think that today is a heartfelt goodbye, well…” She wiped a tear out of her eye. Beside him, Wind could see Sycamore flushed with embarrassment. It had only been a momentary fluster from him, but Amber was an important pony after all. He would have to make it up to her later.

“Oh, there’s that as well, I guess.” Amber pointed to the northwestern horizon, at nothing in particular, or at least nothing visible. “That way-ish, Mr. Wind, unless you pegasi moved it in the last two hundred years. If my Old Mare’s memory holds, over that horizon you’ll find Cloudsdale.”

Elated by the news, Wind gave her a respectful bow. “Thank you very much.” He wanted to say something else that could perhaps convince her to stay, but could tell from the set of her jaw that it wouldn’t do much good. “All the best for your family’s future.”

There was a shout from the square behind them. “That about wraps us up here, folks! Thank you all for your hospitality and may we meet again in wetter times! Now the road to Canterlot is long, so we shall be away!”

Amber looked up when she heard, and Wind glanced in the same direction. He saw the crowd in the square dispersing, with Golden cantering quickly up the line of wagons. He flashed them a big grin, and Amber nodded in return.

“Don’t worry about us by the way,” Amber said, clambering up into the wagon’s front seat. Two of her grandsons were hitched to the front, and they each looked up at her waiting for the signal to head off. But the old earth pony leaned over the side, a scrap of parchment clutched in her hooves. “If you ever find yourself in the area around Canterlot, you can look us up here. Something tells me that we’ll be meeting again real soon, Sycamore. Until then, it’s been good to know you.”

Sycamore reached forward and took the note. “Farewell, Amber.” Wind said the same, and then Amber nodded down to her grandsons, and the wagon train lurched away, one after another down the dusty road that led away to the north.

It was flat as far as the eye could see, probably green and gold in previous years, but just dirty brown now. Each wagon team that passed by the two of them offered a wave, which Sycamore and Wind dutifully returned, but soon enough they had all gone by, becoming nothing but a rapidly dwindling dark line receding away into the horizon. Even so Sycamore stayed there looking after them for some minutes more, until the last visible cloud of dust had settled.

“Another one gone,” she whispered. “Another heart, another soul dried up under this weather.” She turned around and started walking back to the village, her slow and plodding steps dejected.

Wind settled in beside her, thinking hard on the predicament. Up ahead, he could see the square again, and could tell that it looked emptier, sparser than it had before. It wasn’t a particularly lively place even on the best of days now, but this was different. He’d been to funerals in his time up in Cloudsdale, but never had there been anything close to this level of dread in the air. Ponies were sad, sure, but they laughed and cried afterward, and did their best to get on with life. But nopony had passed away in Southoofton. Instead, he realized, it was their life itself that was dying. And that meant that there was nothing to get back to. Nothing to distract from the inevitability that they would all eventually take the same dusty road off into parts unknown.

It was a real shame, but could he do anything to fix it? There were already pegasi here on the surface doing everything that they could to make the rains come and there was little he could help with there. Yet, even so, one look at Sycamore’s face and Wind knew that he had to do something. Pegasi weren’t supposed to believe in destiny. Your life was what you made of it, in service to the tribe. Yet whether fate had somehow spun him into Sycamore’s life, or chance had decided his fall, none of that changed what he had to do today.

“Come on,” Wind said, trotting up in front of Sycamore, a bright smile on his face. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

Sycamore’s eyes rose to meet his, but she didn’t match his grin. “Where?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere off on our own.” He tossed his mane in the air as he trotted along, letting it dance as it would if he were flying. “Somewhere we can get away for a while.”

She didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know,” she said, biting her lip, “Fern is going to need some help with the roof again soon.”

“Oh, I’m sure that he’ll be fine.” Wind spied a low hillock in the offing, set apart from the town and Sycamore’s homestead by a couple of miles or so. The path to get there crossed a low gully too.

“Come on, I’ll race you to that hill,” he said, pointing out the spot. Without waiting for a response, he took off running. One look back at the road revealed Sycamore standing for a moment, but eventually following, not nearly at a quick enough pace to catch him though. Wind was a flier by heart, of course, but pegasi still knew how to use their hooves.

Wind moderated his pace on the way to the hill, so that he only had to wait twenty seconds or so at the top before Sycamore trotted up. “Ohh,” he said, tapping his hoof impatiently as she arrived. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want this to be a race.”

“Wind, what are you talking about? Why would I want to race you?” Sycamore took a breath as she arrived on top of the hill, but she didn’t look winded in the slightest.

He scanned the horizon, searching for their next point of interest. “How about… because the loser has to feed the pigs tonight?”

Sycamore’s eyes perked up. “Seriously? You don’t know the first thing about feeding the pigs.”

That much was true, but Wind had heard both she and Fern complaining about it nearly every night that they had to do it, so he had figured it was something that Sycamore would want to get out of, if she could. “I told you that I would pitch in if I could. And besides, pegasi take races seriously, as I’ve let you know. I don’t expect that I’ll have to do it, especially if this race is anything like the last one.”

Sycamore lowered her eyebrows, looking motivated for the first time. “Those are fighting words, mister. You’re so sure of yourself in the earth pony’s domain? There’s no flying over the obstacles down here, you know.”

“How about the old pond?” he asked, indicating the spot that she had shown him those few nights ago. “Last one there is a rotten bean.”

One of her eyebrows cranked right back up at the expression. “We say wilted cabbage down here, but I think that I can understand where that one must come from. In any event, you’re on. And you’d better get ready to learn about the pigs too.”

“I’ll give you a fair start this time,” he said, bending his knees to get down into the starting position. “On your marks, get set, hey—!” Sycamore had taken off on the second notice, and this time it was clear that she wasn’t leaving anything behind at the starting line. Wind dashed off after the cloud of dust that was marking the earth pony’s progress.

As he ran, Wind got a much better memory of what it had been like to fly up in Cloudsdale, the wind free and clear in his face, rippling over his mane, and not a care in the world aside from the pony in front of him. He caught up pretty quickly, but as soon as Sycamore saw him she put on another burst of speed, and he had to give it his all just to catch up. She was quick, no doubt about it. Perhaps he would end up doing the chores after all.

They both made it to the pond in a flurried cloud of dust, and when things settled Wind was spread in the dirt, his front legs stretched out in front of him from his final leap to the finish. But in the absence of an official goal line, it was impossible to tell who had gotten there first. Far more important than that, though, was that when Wind looked up to find Sycamore standing over him, she was smiling again.

“Well, gee,” she said, eying him laying there, “I can’t make heads or tails of this finish! Do we need a rubber match?”

“Nah, it’s alright, I think that you got it.” He got up to his hooves slowly, catching his breath at the same time. “You sure can move for an earth pony, and in Cloudsdale we learn to be honourable in our defeats. A race well-run.”

Out of habit, he extended a hoof out to her for the traditional post-race tap, but of course Sycamore only gave him a puzzled look before taking hold of his hoof and shaking it instead.

She held that shake for a little while, looking into his face, the bright Sun overhead radiant in her mane, and that beautiful smile lighting up her face. “Thanks a lot, Wind,” she said as she let go, looking much happier than before. “For all of that. I know we’re probably not the most gracious of hosts that you’ve ever met, but well, I appreciate all that you’ve done.”

“Think nothing of it,” he replied, starting off on the walk back up to the house. Up ahead, he could make out Fern still hard at work on the roof. The Sun was almost right overhead, just about time for lunch. “I promised to pitch in didn’t I? And if all of you think that I’m not going to be any good at chores, then I guess that I’ve got to find something else to be good at.”

Sycamore nudged him in the shoulder as they walked. “Well, you’d better start learning about the chores soon. You are going to be going out in the pigpen tonight. Since we tied, I suppose that I can show you the ropes, but you’d best believe it’s your hooves that are going to be getting dirty.”

Wind exaggerated his grimace, but only slightly. That was one problem with dirt that he hadn’t really thought about while up in the clouds. But surely there was a good answer for that too.