> Sowing is Easy > by Mocha Star > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > Sowing is easy > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- “No, Peridot, bad dog! Stop digging in the dirt,” Rarity admonished her pet, “I swear I’m never getting another dog for the rest of my life,” she squeaked as she chased him from the family garden. The ground was freshly tilled and produce was planted in the first few days after Winter Wrap Up and she was anxious to see her families work pay off this year. She returned to the garden and pushed the soil over the exposed seeds and relined it to the best her filly hooves could manage. She looked at her work and nodded proudly, she believed in herself and her ability to garden. Perhaps she’d get a gardening cutie mark before she knew it. She sighed, as gardening wasn’t a passion of hers, cloth was. Exquisite clothing that protected the weared from the elements in all seasons, not just winter. Clothing that dazzled the eyes and made a mare feel as beautiful as the jewels she wore. Hats and shoes that would protect, while making the wearer make others jealous and envious. And she wanted to make those garments. It was something she wasn’t very good at, but after some well informed advice, she began to take certain practices to heart. She’d begun making muslins, asking for notions as gifts to further her art until she had a nearly full set; she’d make poorly designed toiles and proudly wear them, terrible patterns and all. She’d learned to use her magic to hold knitting needles well enough to make scarved that wouldn’t protect from a slight breeze for her friends and family. All the while, she believed that she could make the best outfits, given time and practice. This day, however, she had to tend the garden and keep Peridot out and away from it. He was in a very diggy mood, and she wasn’t having it. She stood in the center of their small tilled garden and waited for him to return, a packed ball of dirt at the ready to pelt him with if he didn’t take heed of her warnings. “I’m ready for you, you mutt. Stay away or feel my wrath,” she said proudly. The wind rustled the leaves in a nearby tree and she spun to look at it, ready for a crow to dive at her. A bush nearby rustled and she glared at it, daring a ravenously hungry bunny to come out and dare to take her families carrots! After ten minutes of being on guard she laid down in the soft, cool, inviting soil and yawned. “Being a guard is hard work,” she laid her head on her crossed forelegs and drifted off to sleep. In her dream she was Queen Rarity, matriarch of clothing and style. None walked around naked, each wearing a dazzling garment, made by her own hooves and magic. Each and every pony was happy and gleeful and the world was perfect. It began to rain on her clothing and she tried her best, but couldn’t stop it from falling. “I am Queen Rarity, I command thee to stop raining, clouds!” she called to the sky. The dark clouds breathed heavily but didn’t stop. She screamed to the heavens in a rage that belied her filly size and extravagant attire and woke up with a jolt to see Peridot standing over her, drooling excessively as he chewed on a stick above her. “Stupid dog! You’re drooling all over me,” she shouted as she hopped. Peridot dropped his front and wagged his tail, growling quietly. “And give me that stupid stick!” she bit for it and he ran back, turned and dropped his front again. She began to chase him, determined to get that stick and slap his dock with it. She shouted for him to come back and stop but he was too fast. She remembered dogs were predators and were faster than little ponies, so she called on her magic and grabbed at the stick. She couldn’t get a good enough grip on it but it was enough to stop Peridot from running and turn around, drop the stick, and growl, baring his teeth in a way that terrified the filly in a way she’d never experienced before. She gasped and stopped so suddenly that she lost her balance and tumbled over herself, landing next to the dog. She scampered to her hooves and galloped away as fast as she could with him in tow, gaining on her with each pawfall. She could imagine his teeth biting into her legs and she found a burst of energy she hadn’t had before as she met his pace and kept ahead of him. She turned several times, trying to lose him to no avail until she saw the stick he’d had. Or maybe it was another stick. A stick was a stupid stick, so she grabbed it as she passed and waved it beside her head then threw it away… ahead of her. He passed Rarity and grabbed the stick faster than she knew a creature could move and he turned back to her, growling with the stick in his mouth, baring his teeth, challenging her. She stopped and backed away slowly, unsure as to what he was doing. She watched his prone stance, like he was ready to pounce on her, even with the stick in his mouth, dripping saliva onto the ground. She winced at the disgusting nature of dogs and wished for any other animal. Then he leapt at her. Rarity yelped and began to run, she heard him panting again, slurping spit as he chased her. Then the moment she’d feared happened, he caught her. She screamed as she fell to her side in the soft soil of the garden, surprised she’d landed back where it all began, and waited for the end. The stick dropped onto her head and she felt him bite her neck. She wasn’t ready to go! She felt him bite her a few more times and then whimper. She opened her eyes and looked to Peridot. He was sitting, looking concernedly at her with his head cocked to the side. Rarity looked at where he bit. No blood, no marks even. What was this dog up to? He’d been a pet for two whole days and she couldn’t figure out this creature's behavior. One second he was running, the next he was chasing… Her eyes rolled as she realized what was happening. “You, wanna play?” she asked hesitantly. Peridot hopped and barked happily as his front fell to the ground again and he bore his teeth. “Well, maybe, but not if you’re going to bite me. I don’t want to be lunch, even for play,” she said standing tall and taking the stick up in her magic. Peridot began panting in excitement and his tail wagged furiously. Rarity threw the stick with all her magical might and Peridot turned and leapt into the air, grabbed it in his maw, landed a few feet away, then returned it to Rarity’s forehooves. “I wish I could throw this to the edge of town,” she said picking the slobbered stick up and foolishly shaking it, splattering her with some of the lengthy drool. After a moment of whining and grumbling she believed she’d cleared her face and mane of the mess and threw the stick again, this time higher and at a better angle so he’d have to run away to get it. Rarity returned to her garden quickly and poked at the turned soil and smiled as a blue bit of cloth was unearthed. “Soon, I’ll have grown my own line of clothes,” she smiled widely, “and Fluffy Buttons can eat her hat when I show her that clothes do grow on trees.” Then she was tackled by Peridot and drooled on heavily. She screamed and whined for mercy, but she was at his mercy. No matter how much he tried, she wouldn’t play tug of war with the stick, so her began to thank her in the best way he knew how; with wet kisses.