Exactly As Stupid As The Crush Requires
It was sometimes possible to learn something about a library patron before they ever crossed the threshold into the tree, and most of those occasions had Twilight discovering exactly how upset that pony was. Truly irritated unicorns had been known to subconsciously ignite their horns: the energy would almost never focus on an actual target, but the rage spikes coruscating across something not quite bone had a way of putting highlights onto the windows. In the case of pegasi, frustrated (and unacknowledged) wing flaps rattled the glass, and the most powerful specimens made the spring sky just a little darker with every hoofstep.
This time, fast-approaching hard stomps were sending vibrations up through the floorboards of the empty library, ultimately grounding themselves in hardcovers which jittered along the edge of the shelving. It was the sign of an angry earth pony, the accent embedded within the indistinct mutters told Twilight exactly who it was, and the fact that the stomps ended just in time for a forehoof to carefully push on the left-side door indicated that things weren't at their absolute worst -- but they weren't all that far away from it either.
"Ah need a spell t' make someone smarter," the farmer declared as she stomped into the library, a lowered hat brim shading eyes which were already narrowed with anger. "Y'got one?"
The little alicorn blinked, extended both forelegs and carefully pushed her bench away from the librarian's desk before starting to get up. "No. Applejack, what's wrong? You look like --"
The first word to be held up at the back of her teeth for closer examination was 'overworked', because it was something you just didn't say to Applejack unless you were sure. Applejack's standards for normal labor started at two hundred percent of the average pony, which was why most of the Acres' temporary hires barely made it through one-third of a workday. But the orange fur wasn't resting properly within its natural grain, and there was mud caked around the hooves. No leg was quite in rhythm with any other, and the thick blonde tail was lashing at a speed which indicated both a very upset pony and one who had to keep it lashing because once it stopped, there was no guarantee of getting it started again.
"-- something happened," was what Twilight allowed herself to risk. A lot of somethings. One after the other. And based on the visible impact sites, I think three of them ran across your back.
"Seriously?" the earth pony demanded: the next hoof stomp created a partial reshelving of the Biology section. "That's a spell y'don't have?"
"It doesn't even exist --"
The next words were pushed forward in a blast of purest frustration. "-- an' how do Ah know that?"
Twilight's lips quirked. "I'd never stop casting it."
Applejack blinked.
All four powerful legs came to a stop. Little pieces of dried mud flaked onto the floor.
"Oh." It was a fairly weak word, one which almost collapsed under the weight of the embedded apology.
The little alicorn ruefully nodded. "In this town? Even if it had a long-term duration, the sheer number of ponies who would need it..." A tiny shrug. "Make it last just a few seconds and I'd practically live in Davenport's shop." Although with that pony, the problem wasn't really intelligence: he could formulate any number of complex plans, things which had a huge number of intricately-moving parts -- and somehow, the quills always wound up taking the majority of the sofa weight. "There's no spell like that, Applejack. I'm sorry." A little more quickly, "So why do you need --"
"-- in that case," her friend wearily decided, "Ah'll take a book on tenant relations. If'fin y'got any new ones. Pretty sure Ah've been through everythin' on the shelf."
"No." And when it came to checkouts of that seldom-used section, Applejack practically was the shelf. "There just isn't that much demand -- wait." Two facts had just come together in Twilight's mind. "When you came in, you said you needed to make someone smarter. And now we're on tenants. What's --"
"-- fine," Applejack declared. "So -- library exchange program. Once Spike gets back from playin', y'contact the Archives an' tell 'em t' send the whole section. If they say that's too much, Ah'll offer security. Send somethin' back, weight for weight." Thoughtfully, with shaded eyes fondly gazing at darkest fantasy, "Ain't no rule which says the security can't be livin', right? Might jus' be another way of fixin' the problem, an' then the Archivists can get a lesson on what tenant relations are really like." She took a deep, sharp breath. "Tenants --"
"-- Applejack."
The farmer stopped again. Her head dipped.
"...sorry. Jus'... jus' frustrated, Twi. Ain't been a good couple of days. An' Ah don't know how t' fix this."
"I probably don't either," the librarian reluctantly admitted. "Not if it's tenants. But -- I'm willing to try, Applejack. I'll always try. I just need to know what's going on first. I have to understand --" and because the lessons were still ongoing "-- if I can. Please?"
This breath was slower.
"Ain't easy t' explain."
"Try?"
The lashing tail slowly came to a stop, then flicked once to the left. Indicating a public reading area.
Twilight carefully trotted over to it, assumed her best Attentive Student pose on the smallest bench. Applejack arranged her larger body across one which offered more support.
"Okay," the farmer began. "Can't jus' blurt it out. Ah kinda -- have t' ease into it here."
Twilight nodded.
"Ah mean, lecturin' is really your thing."
The librarian indulged in a long, slow look at a mare whose propensity for freely giving out pieces of her mind had occasionally seen her mistaken for a rather dark version of Generosity.
"But y'need some of the background in order t' really understand what's goin' on. Y'ready?"
"Whenever you are."
Another deep breath of spring air. "Y'know cattle are a --" vocabulary was visibly sifted "-- protectorate species. They lease livin' space from whoever's willin' t' host 'em. An' most of 'em ain't citizens. They could be: nothin' stops 'em from tryin' but each other --" with open regret "-- and that's usually enough. But they don't have a nation of their own. An' that's the way it is with pretty much all of the tenants."
Another, much more careful nod, because tenants could be an exceptionally tricky subject.
"But it ain't jus' that they don't have a nation," Applejack continued. "They can't."
It had been a statement, and so Twilight blinked.
"Why? They're sapient! I even met a really smart one! She was a guest lecturer at the Gifted School --"
"-- one of 'em is smart," Applejack carefully cut in. "The herd is dumb."
Twilight blinked.
"Damn dumb," the farmer failed to clarify.
Eventually, "...I don't get it."
Applejack sighed. "One of 'em, off by themselves -- that's a person. Opinions an' personality all their own. So some of 'em break off, go out past the pastures, take citizenship classes and set up their lives. But y'get 'em together in groups... it's like us, Twi, only worse. Takes somethin' big to turn ponies into a herd, thinkin' and reactin' as one. With cattle, all it takes is standin' near each other. Y'startle one cow, all on her lonesome? Then you've startled one cow. She'll calm down, or kick out: whatever needs doin'. But y'startle one herd, an' the herd don't think. It just -- stampedes. An' enough cattle to found their own nation, all scared at once -- that's somethin' nopony could round up. They'd just run until they ran themselves out, an' anything in front of 'em, under their hooves -- they ain't small. Anything they go through gets trampled: y'saw that with the one which nearly reached town. Stretch that out t' cover a gallop or two..."
It took Twilight a moment to realize that they were both shivering, and the recognition was what made it stop.
"Most of 'em don't want t' leave the herd," Applejack sadly added. "It's more comfortable, thinkin' together. Not thinkin'. But at the same time... the more y'have, the dumber they get. An' even when things are calm, they clump into little groups. One of 'em gets a bad idea an' before y'know it, everyone else in the cluster is a walkin' echo. No one argues against it, 'cause that would mean standin' aside. Being apart. An' if it ain't someone like your lecturer, that's the scariest thing there is. Y'get me?"
She reluctantly nodded. "So what happened?"
Green eyes briefly closed.
"Been a lot of stampedes lately."
Twilight blinked. "I didn't hear --"
"-- most of 'em don't ever get close t' town," Applejack clarified. "Ah've got the border fences set up as funnels an' trails, t' get 'em running in circles. Tire themselves out. The ones which break through the fences -- those are where it gets bad. But even a small stampede does damage." She sighed. "Ah've been replacin' a lot of fencing."
"So what's setting them off?" It felt like the natural question. "If it's a monster problem, or something with wild magic, I can probably at least try to --"
Starkly, "Cattle."
One more blink. "...what?"
"It's a few of 'em settin' off the rest," the farmer darkly said. "Started that way, at least. Ah think they're gonna pick up a couple on the original group. It's a bad idea, none of 'em can see it's one of the worst ideas ever, and it's spreadin'. Eventually, it's goin' right through the fence, an' once it reaches town..."
Twilight desperately wrenched her gaze away from inner visions. "How are they setting off each other?"
"One of 'em got hold of a magazine," Applejack groaned. "Ain't sure how. One of those adolescent things, which talks 'bout what's cool. An' not in the Rainbow way, neither. It's cool only 'cause somepony you'll never meet said it was, an' the reader needs someone t' listen to, 'cause that's easier than thinkin'. One of those rags y'read for three, maybe four years, an' then y'burn every copy y'ever had 'cause y'never want t' remember bein' that dumb."
"Um," said the librarian who had just been informed that somepony had burnt periodicals. "What was in it?"
"Turns out that for some species, what's cool right now is tattoos."
It was a new word. "What are those?"
"Take a look at your mark." (Twilight did so.) "Our fur just grows in those shades after manifest. Shave it off, it'll come back. Permanent little picture, every last one of us. But it's a natural one."
She nodded. "So a tattoo...?"
"Is fakin' it the hard way," Applejack explained. "Ah saw the article. Y'take ink in the colors y'want, y'get a really thin needle, an' y'inject it under the skin. Makes a little spot of color -- breathe, Twi: the nausea goes down if'fin y'jus' go slow..."
She swallowed back most of it: the rest formed a coating on her tongue. "Seriously?"
"Yeah," her friend darkly stated. "Do it enough times an' it makes a picture. Permanent one."
Slowly, Twilight's hackles settled back into place. ""Okay. So aside from the incredible amount of pain, ridiculously cumulative chance of infection, and only getting one mistake... how would anyone see that under their fur?"
"Well, there y'go," Applejack allowed. "The species using 'em ain't got fur, or much in the way of body hair. Leaves cattle out. They can't show off a tattoo unless they keep shaving 'round wherever it is. An' shaved cattle look 'bout as dumb as a shaved pony, so none of 'em wanted t' try that -- but they still wanted t' be cool. An' one of 'em had the bad idea. Figured they had a way around it. Single-color tattoo without ink. An' that's what they did."
With open dread, "What did they do?"
Applejack paused.
"Twi?"
"Yes?"
"Before Ah tell you the rest?"
"...yes?"
"Grab a bucket. Jus' in case. 'cause one can be smart," Applejack groaned. "But four teenage bulls are dumb."
"Y'can't rinse out your mouth with the whole water tower --"
"-- WATCH ME!"
It was Twilight's first time on this part of the Acres. She generally avoided the tenant sections, partially because most of those species liked their privacy and... well, as the existence of that shelf proved, it wasn't easy to deal with tenants. You were talking to someone who was different, calling out across a gap of sapience and perspective which might never be fully bridged.
Like just about everypony, she came out to the Acres during Lambvent, because a holiday meant for celebrating new life required looking at newborns and lambs were a warm cuddly celebration of warm years to come. And she looked at them from a distance while remaining absolutely silent, because the very young had a tendency to believe everything they were told and with sheep, so did every last adult. But... when it came to Applejack's tenants, that had just about been the limit of her interactions. She'd met a few cattle, and had once found an alpaca following her through every back alley of Ponyville because Twilight qualified as a quadrupedal moving object and so an alpaca was going to follow her.
To be in the cattle pastures, though -- that was new. She didn't quite know how to process it. Applejack was guiding her between the clusters, and there were clusters. You never saw one cattle: you saw at least four. Heads were lowered towards the warm Sun-lit grass in perfect synchronicity. Jaws ruminated with detached mechanical precision. They spoke in turn and agreed in bulk. Life took place, and did so in exacting plurals.
It was... strange, seeing them like this. Foreign. Alien.
"Big barns," Twilight softly observed, largely because it was something to say.
"They like t' shelter together," Applejack whispered back. "Families get their own sections, but they're happiest when they can jus' push on the little gates an' walk into someone else's place for a chat. An it's gates. Barely got walls in there. They jus' like t' see each other. Know the rest of the herd is there."
Alien... "Really?"
"There's a few closed-off sections," Applejack allowed. "For when they really need privacy. One of 'em is for birthing. Another's for when a bull goes bad -- relax, Twi. It don't happen much, an' Ah thank Sun for that. Jus' one since Mac an' Ah took over. But we had t' get him away from the herd, an' it took both of us t' manage."
She wanted to know. And then she didn't. "So where's this group?"
"Ah got 'em into a side pasture." Openly disgruntled, "Most Ah was able t' do, 'cause being that age is mostly 'bout not listenin' t' anypony who might be makin' sense. An' Ah tried t' make 'em promise they'd hold off on doin' any more --"
Which was when speech momentarily ended, doing so at the same moment her nostrils flared.
"-- those morons!"
"Applejack, what's --"
But that was the moment Twilight caught the scent.
Smoke. Fresh --
-- and Applejack was already running, powerful legs smoothly accelerating to full gallop as the earth pony pounded towards the narrow twisting pillar of fumes, and it was all Twilight could do in following just to keep the farmer in sight. She couldn't manage a takeoff, teleporting was impossible when she didn't know what the arrival point looked like, Applejack was drawing farther ahead and Twilight was just getting her first look at the smoke's base, a blazing-hot pit fire ringed with thick border stones, where there was some kind of metal pole partially resting on the near edge --
"-- you idiots!"
It wasn't quite a shout: Applejack had cautioned Twilight about making too much noise around the cattle, because a few of the more timid ones were very easily startled and once they went, the rest of the herd was just about guaranteed to follow. As such, most of the decibels had to be implied. The temporary desire to commit murder, however, was definitively out in the open.
"Y'said you'd wait! Ah leave the Acres for a couple of hours an' you're right back at it --"
"-- so?" declared the largest of the bulls, dark fur crinkling with derision around a prominent snout. "Minors can't make legally binding contracts, right? So any promises we give, we get to decide if we keep." A quick glance at the other three who were standing, followed by one towards the small, heavily-sweating bull who was prone in the grass. (That last was closest to the fire, directly adjacent to the heat -- and the combined factors still couldn't account for all of the shed moisture.) "That was in the last issue, guys. Remember that if any adult tries to make you keep your word. Because that's just for equals, and since they don't see us that way --"
"-- ain't how it works, Angus!" Applejack furiously declared. "Your word's as good as you make it an' right now, that's about on a level with cow pies!"
"Ooooh!" emerged as a loving exhale of purest sarcasm from cattle who were aware that assaulting a minor was its own offense and in the event that the legal implications weren't enough of a shield, their parents were nearby. "Language!"
Twilight recognized all of that as she ran up, had enough experience forwarded to the Princess through flame to spot all of the undertones, still wound up being distracted by the fact that three of the bulls had spoken the words as a perfect chorus --
-- and nearly tripped over what had been hidden in the grass.
"Careful!" yelped the one who was lying down. "You could get hurt!"
She scrambled, recovered her hoofing as her wings instinctively flared out to assist in the braking process, looked down --
-- oh.
Oh, no...
She wrenched her gaze away from black iron, and that meant having it go across the young bulls. One in the grass, shivering somewhat on a warm spring day, and that with his proximity to the fire. Four youths standing: a bay roan, a brown, a patterned white --
-- except for where they were black. Or rather, blackened.
The next desperate visual search failed to find a second water tower, and so she was forced to go back to the bulls.
"So now you're seein' it, Twi," Applejack's deathly-soft voice declared. "It's one thing t' hear 'bout it, but another when y'first get a look, ain't it? That's what they did t' themselves. 'cause some words in a magazine gave 'em an idea, an' they think it's cool. The coolest thing in the world, t' stick metal into fire an' then put that metal against --"
She didn't want to hear the rest: not again, not after seeing it. And so her eyes went down, searching for something, anything which could serve as a change of subject --
"-- what's that?"
The short-snouted brown bull focused on her, or at least made an attempt: he had exceptionally long, rather shaggy fur, and quite a bit of it was hanging directly over his eyes. "What's what?"
"The... shapes."
His ears perked. "Do you like them? I came up with them! Just the shapes, I mean. We had to ask somepony in town to do the metalwork." Proudly, "When you see them all together like that, it's almost like an alphabet, isn't it?"
She wanted to agree, and then she considered where the words were being recorded. "They're... big..."
"We had to make sure they would show," he explained. "Clearly. Forever."
Her gaze involuntarily moved to the place where, had he been a pony, she would have found the mark. And once again, she found... something, which immediately put her back in the grass.
Twilight's left forehoof timidly poked at the nearest piece of iron. (She immediately vowed to wash that hoof. For six hours. This then struck her as being excessive, and she logically brought the number down to five.) "So that one is..."
"Once it's been applied? I call it a Crazy Tumbling R."
"...oh." Which put Twilight in a conundrum, because there was Fresh Knowledge To Be Had and at the same time, She Didn't Want It. The two instincts went to war, and common sense lost. "Why is it crazy?"
"Because it'll be upside-down. And 'tumbling' is since it'll also be tilted forty-five degrees to the right."
She decided the symbol's creator was qualified to determine those qualities, even if nopony else ever could. "And the 'R'?"
"Dunno. It just felt R-ish." Happily, "Anyway, if you stick around, you can see it. I brought that one out because Canchim signed up for it out of the catalog --"
"There's a catalog," Applejack starkly interrupted. "Highland, when the buck did y'get --"
"-- I had it printed at Mrs. Bradel's shop! So anyway, once Devon here is done -- he's getting a Flying Rafter P, it's in the fire right now -- we'll start working on --"
"Oh, they wouldn't be interested in hearing that," Angus snorted. "At least, the landlady isn't. We know that already. She doesn't even want to look at mine. And you'd think that if anyone in the world would appreciate what we'd done, it would be a pony." And with that, he swung his right hip just enough to make the results a little more visible.
Twilight's focus automatically, horribly shifted towards the source of momentum. And it could be described as a mark, at least in that something had marked the fur. Or rather, the place where fur was no longer present. Where it would never grow again. At the black.
"You're burning yourselves," she whispered. "You're burning images into your skin..."
"Well, yeah," a bicolor agreed. "Because who wants to go shaving your fur all the time to show off a tattoo?"
"And it's not as if anypony makes tattoos, right, Gloucester?" Angus smugly stated. "So I figured out a way around it. Because the magazine said that having an image on your flanks is cool. It's the cool stuff which all the prettiest cows are into this year!"
"Like Bessie," Highland softly sighed.
Five pairs of eyes went moist.
"Bessie..." wafted the herd, and tails twitched with longing.
Angus' big head abruptly shook, with the motion only stopping once the fog of hormones had temporarily fallen from his eyes. "And I don't know why our landlady disagrees! She's a pony! Isn't having an image show up on your flanks when you're our age kind of, y'know, everything being a pony is about?"
"And zebras," declared the gray one who'd been silent until that very moment, doing so in a deep, slow, and falsely-wise voice.
"Okay, Krishna," Angus genially agreed. "And zebras."
"And zebras," said all five, doing so with the exact same pacing and cadance. "Definitely zebras."
"So we made one show up," Angus declared, openly satisfied with his own brillance. "Bet you wish you could."
Applejack's forehooves were scraping against the soil. Twilight's nausea had reached the point where she wanted to break towards Ponyville's western border, because there was a stream there and she needed most of it. And Highland, who was the most intelligent of the bulls and therefore had the brainpower to come up with a creative horrible idea, experienced a spark of purest anti-genius.
His eyes widened: something which was just possible to see through the hanging hair. And then he planted the seeds of potential revolution.
"Maybe they're trying to keep the magic to themselves."
Everyone was now looking directly at Highland. (The fact that Twilight was doing so in abject horror didn't register through the strands.)
"Explain," Angus ordered. "Now."
"Aw, no..." Applejack whispered. (Twilight, who was trying to find the internal button which would restart her lungs, couldn't even manage that much.)
"Well, it makes sense, doesn't it?" Highland proposed. "They get an image, they get magic. So maybe anyone who puts an image in the right spot winds up with magic of their own!"
"It don't work that way!" Still not quite a shout, and so desperation overflowed from inadequate syllables. "Y'need t'think! An' Ah mean that literally: as a species, you've gotta be able t' think, really think! Alive and thinkin' means magic! It jus' ain't the same magic! We've got ours, donkeys got theirs, minotaurs do somethin' else! Stickin' red-hot iron into your skin ain't gonna do anythin' but --"
"Magic me!" Devon bellowed. "I was almost ready to back out of this, but if it comes with magic...!"
"What kind of magic comes from the alphabet?" Angus demanded. "Which magic did I get?"
"Dunno," Highland admitted. "Nothing here looks like a pony mark, and we've all only seen the one zebra, right? So this has to be new magic. And we haven't seen it yet because we didn't know what to look for! So we'll just run experiments!" With enthusiasm rising, "Tell the others about the magic, and we'll never run out of volunteers! One character each, see what kind of magic they wind up with...!"
"And then," a self-dazzled Krishna proposed, "we could combine them. Overlays. Just keep adding new magic every day..."
"MAGIC ME!" It was just short of a scream, and it was almost the last sound Devon would make which didn't qualify. "PLEASE! Because Bessie couldn't pass up someone with MAGIC!"
"Bessie..." sighed all five, and then Angus moved, his head dipping towards the fire and the insulation-wrapped end of the metal rod.
"For magic!" the lead bull bellowed, and did so just before he yanked the brand out of the flames.
One end was wrapped. The other was not, and red-hot metal was pressed into Devon's flank.
The prone bull's reaction could be described as a perfectly natural one.
The same could be said for everyone who heard it.
"...an' there y'go," Applejack sighed as she heavily leaned her sweating body against what was now left of the fence. "You've seen all of it." She slowly shook her head. "Includin' the part Ah was hopin' we could avoid. Sun an' Moon, if Ah can just get a day without a stampede..."
"That was me," Twilight miserably decided, her exhausted body slumping low in the cool grass. It had been her first time herding, she hadn't been particularly good at it, and everything had reached the point where she'd felt as if Winona's barks had been trying to convey cross-species criticism. "I didn't grab the brand in time." And now some self-disgust was leaking in. "I didn't try to grab it at all..."
"It ain't the heat, right?" Applejack asked. "Didn't think that conducted through a field. Not to your horn, Ah mean."
"It's not insulative," Twilight automatically lectured. "If I pick up something that's on fire, the heat radiates out through the energy. But I don't feel that heat unless it's close enough to register normally. A few unicorns say they can, but... it's psychosomatic, Applejack." She sighed. "I was too horrified to react. Just the idea of burning yourself over and over, trying to get magic..."
The farmer reluctantly nodded. "Yeah. Wasn't expectin' 'em t' go there, but -- stupid comes up with stuff which smart wouldn't dream of." With a soft groan, "They just put themselves in a place where the Crusade never went. That takes serious dumb."
"Brands." Her wings were shivering. "Brands instead of marks. Multiple brands."
"Infections, more like," Applejack told her. "Cattle hide is pretty tough, but they've still been puttin' second-degree burns on themselves t' do this. An' when y'get that kind of burn, y'do the natural thing. Which is screamin'. The rest of the herd hears one of their own in that kind of pain, an' thought jus' -- drops. They have t' get away, all of 'em. So it's been one brand, one stampede. An' so far, no one's been too hurt, but enough burns an' someone's gonna get sick. Burns ain't somethin' y'play with."
"Did you talk to their parents?" Which felt like it should have been the court of first resort.
With open exasperation, "They're doin' it together. If it was jus' one, that's an outlier, an' they'd get the stray back in line. But cattle figure anything the herd is doin' should work out for the best. 'cause cattle are like us, Twi, jus' like us --"
She sighed. The sturdy body slid partway down the fence.
"-- except for all the ways they're worse."
They were both quiet for a while. Distant scents of bovine fur drifted into their nostrils. A significant portion of that had been singed.
"How y'doin' there?"
"I feel stupid."
"Ain't your fault."
"Not the branding or Highland's dumb idea. That one who went through the barn --"
"-- y'ain't got the experience," Applejack reassured her. "Takes livin' here t' know that Limia likes t' tilt right, an' Ah was on the other side. Didn't see where she was, or that she was gonna move. Still ain't your fault, Twi."
They listened to the echoes of contented moos. The herd was calm again. Something which wouldn't last.
"We have to stop this," the little alicorn declared. "Just burning yourself to look --" she almost spat the word "-- cool was bad enough. But getting hurt trying to find magic which won't ever come..."
"Ah'll take any idea y'got."
Sun visibly moved.
"Any time now," Applejack encouraged.
The weather team changed shifts.
"Seriously, Twi. Any --"
"-- who's Bessie?"
The farmer tilted her head away from the remnants of the wood.
"Not what Ah was expectin'," she admitted. "Why y'askin'?"
"They were all talking about her," Twilight reminded her friend, looking up at the taller pony from the grass. "Like she was the reason for everything..."
It brought out a little smile. "Well, in a way," Applejack admitted. "You'd have t' see her..."
They found the little cluster near the southern fence.
"Right there," Applejack quietly pointed out: the ponies were watching from forty body lengths away, giving the cattle some space. "That's Bessie."
"The big silky brown one with the huge dewy eyes?"
"Yeah."
Twilight squinted.
"I don't get it."
"Trust me," Applejack said. "For a cow, that's real pretty. Every bull close to her age wishes he was with Bessie. But she's fussy. She's got ideas. Which means everyone around her gets the same idea. But the young bulls want t' court her..." The farmer softly sighed. "Cattle dating gets sorta complicated."
"She gets ideas," Twilight thoughtfully semi-repeated.
"An' she ain't the smartest. Kinda sheep-like there. Believes what she's told --"
"-- so who's telling her?"
The mares looked at each other.
"Y'know," Applejack sighed, still staring into the barely-enclosed pen which made up Bessie's bedroom, "there's ways where havin' tenants makes the host into another kind of parent. 'cause some of 'em can't take care of themselves, an' that's another kind of kid, right? Ones where they ain't really gonna grow up."
Twilight, whose corona was still carefully bringing the find closer, managed a distracted nod.
"But Ah give them their privacy, where Ah can."
Again.
"Never thought Ah'd have t' supervise the mail."
Pinkish energy carefully deposited the stack of magazines in front of the ponies.
Applejack snorted. "Rebel's Rousing. The once-a-moon definitive guide t' how you can be an individual, jus' like everyone else. Thought Ah was done with this horse apple smear a long time ago, an' now it's turned into a cow pie." She slowly shook her head. "Thought one of 'em bought it on a trip into town. Never figured anyone for a subscription. But this jus' tells us how it was gettin' in. An' Ah don't think you're gonna look kindly on mah censoring words."
"What words?" Twilight semi-sarcastically inquired as the pinkish field rapidly flipped through pages. "This thing is at least ninety percent pictures. And that's just on the masthead." She switched to sorting through copies. "Are any of these the magazine they saw the tattoos in?"
"Naw. Ah found that half-trampled an' loose in the pasture, so it's in mah house. But now Ah know why they were so fired up t' try, don't Ah? 'cause Bessie read it first. Maybe they heard her say somethin' like --" her voice changed pitch and accent, shed a third of its intelligence quotient while replacing it with sleepy indifference "'-- I wish some of the bulls around here had tattoos!' An' when Bessie bothers t' talk, bulls listen."
"Do you think any of the branded ones approached her yet?"
"Probably not," Applejack considered. "If they had the idea together, they would've all gone up at the same time. After they'd all finished with the burns. An' now that they've got fresh volunteers... probably stalled that part a mite. Wouldn't be surprised if the original herd tried before Sun got lowered, though."
"...cattle are monogamous," Twilight carefully said. "Right?"
"The majority. For the couples, when it comes t' who they stay with. They all raise the calves together."
"So they're competing for her."
"Pretty much."
Disbelief saturated the air, then made a few overdue edits in the magazine. "And they'd all approach together?"
"Cattle dating," Applejack firmly said, "is complicated. Wanna see the original article? The one which set this off?"
"I think I have to," Twilight decided as she closed the final issue. "And then we have to get into town. Fast."
Applejack glanced over. Spotted a familiar expression, and slowly smiled.
"Y'got an idea, don't you?"
"I think so," was as far as Twilight would allow herself to go. "But you'll have to go into Mrs. Bradel's."
"Why? Y'send stuff t' the book repair an' print shop all the time --"
"-- through Spike. Because she thinks that if I get close, I'll copy her spells. Like that wonderful casting which makes paper heal itself. And it doesn't work that way. I'd have to stay close for hours, while she cast it over and over. And after she caught me hiding under the windowsill three years --" Which was when she realized the orange grin had become visibly wider. "-- anyway, it has to be you. And we'll have to pay for express printing, so I'll kick in whatever I can." Thoughtfully, "I think we can get away without color. The hard part is going to be aiming the vocabulary that far down..."
The six young cows in the southern section of the main pasture mostly paid attention to themselves. They spoke as one, they acted as one, and so the herd mostly relied on itself for things like perception, evaluation of potential mates, and dismissing the majority of the world as being unimportant. (The last factor took up most of their day, as there was a lot of world to not bother with.) Sure, when it came to thinking, the number participating was closer to zero and occasionally tried to go negative -- but that was what magazines were for! Magazines were written by those who had already been through the endless labor of thought. The articles ground it up into something which could be digested, and so all the sextet had to do was ruminate on the shredded information until it passed through all four stomachs and, at best, three brain cells.
As far as thought went, five of them had once been through the same one: stay close to Bessie. Because Bessie was pretty, and so being near her would eventually mean being close to anyone who came to court her. Bessie's mere existence seemed to guarantee some pretty strong second choices, even if no one was sure how the remaining order of picks would be determined and at least one had trouble counting that high.
They talked to each other. They agreed with each other. And one of them read, then told the rest what she'd seen in the wonderful issues. Reading was fun, especially when someone else was doing it.
The little cluster really didn't listen very well, because if those outside it had anything worth saying, they would have been part of the herd. But they had a little passed-along respect for writing, and so when Bessie's dewy eyes caught sight of what the weird unicorn was carrying in her light, she began to pay attention.
(It was a unicorn with wings. Bessie vaguely recalled that those were important in some way, but wasn't sure how. Anyway, if wings were important, then cattle would have had them.)
"...it's really made me rethink everything, you know?" the unicorn declared. It was the sort of declaration which came with its own hasty rehearsals, and anyone with the critical examination skills of a parent at a school play would have instantly recognized some fairly dubious acting skills at (lack of) work: this standard left the herd out.
"Has it?" asked the earth pony who couldn't lie, was still allowed to play a fully-scripted part, and wasn't quite sure where this fell.
"Well, obviously!" the unicorn giggled. "I just wish we could do it, you know? Because that's the fashion."
Bessie's ears went straight up, then carefully rotated into a position of precise focus. Five extra sets followed suit.
"But we can't," was the mournful followup. "Since we're ponies."
"Well," their landlady said, "Ah guess there's a way where it makes sense. If'fin y'think of marks as bein' something else." With faint (and ignored) pain, "Not a sign of maturity or magic. Age. If'fin you look at it that way --" and the next mutter didn't register in Bessie's conscious mind "-- which would take a Tartarus-chained fool t' do --" back to full volume "-- then not havin' a mark would make you look young. Which, according t' this article, is the fashion right now. Lookin' young. Instead of old. Like a mark would make y'look. Says the author, anyway. Whatever she might know 'bout it..."
Two neurons carefully positioned themselves to fire, and so missed the flurry of whispers.
"You're adding too many qualifiers! They're going to notice!"
"They ain't! An' you wrote the article! Ah swear, Twi, there's times when y'all try t' work around me, an' if you're expectin' me t' be happy 'bout that --"
"Just play along! Pretend you're on a stage again!"
"Oh, sure. How much strength y'got left, holdin' that issue from a print run of one? 'cause Ah'm gonna need you t' carry a few more things. Like lights. An' a stage. Already got the audience, but it wouldn't hurt t' have a Princess Box somewhere --"
"But we're just branded as old," the unicorn hastily sighed. "Forever. There's no going back. While cattle, without marks, can just look young forever. And that's the fashion, as it says in this article. To look as young as possible."
"That is," the earth pony tightly stated, "what the article says."
"Beauty," was the unicorn's firm reply. "True beauty is found in youth. And that's what it says in this brand-new teen magazine."
"The really thin one," countered a very irritated earth pony.
"It's a start-up," the unicorn shot back. "I'm sure they'll get more writers once they catch on. Anyway, the unmarred beauty of youth. That's the most important thing. No proper suitor should be without it."
Several pieces of previously cattle-digested information took the opportunity to come back up.
"Y'feel that vibration in the soil?"
"I know you're stomping too hard."
"Or maybe Clover The Clever jus' rolled over in her grave."
"You're being ridiculous."
"Am not. We barely got through that play in the first place, an' if this is how y'act without a full script --"
"-- everypony knows Clover was entombed! Anyway, I'm done with this issue. Do you want it?"
"Oh Sun no -- Ah mean, naw. Got what Ah needed from listenin' t' you."
"Okay. So I'll just --" and librarian instincts briefly balked "-- leave it -- here..."
Hungry cattle eyes stared at the (still) light-encased object. However, the article was no longer being discussed, and so the ears had mostly lost interest.
"So drop it already!"
"It's a magazine! Going into the grass! The pages will get stained --"
"-- it's a fake which y'had me pay for! An' then y' tried t' hide under the windowsill! On top of her alarm! Again! So drop it!"
The corona winked out. The magazine fell. The unicorn's shudder was fully ignored.
"So..." the vibrating unicorn just barely managed. "Let's just -- go over... there..."
The ponies trotted away, went around the corner of the barn and unknown to the herd, stayed there. The cattle closed in on the fallen treasure.
Bessie slowly, carefully read through the large print and its tiny words. Then she told the others what they were all going to be thinking.
Forty minutes after that, the bulls showed up.
"That's cold!" Angus yelped, hooves scrabbling backwards in the grass. "Why is it so cold? That almost burns! Why do we have to put up with --"
Blue eyes slowly narrowed. The striped lids simply slammed down across his words.
"Oh, now you wish to be pristine," the visiting physician said. "And you decide your cure is mean? Be glad so little time has passed, that help can still be offered. This cream requires days to work: 'tis all which can be proffered. Your injuries are your own, young bull: your pain you did inflict." Zecora's dollop-coated left forehoof came up again, moved towards the brand. "And I will treat as best I can -- but frankly, you're a --"
The watching ponies and cattle lost the last word in Angus' muffled yowl.
"He's really being a calf about this," Highland decided. "Mine wasn't so bad. Miss Twilight didn't even have to put the cloth over my mouth."
"No, you were very good," the librarian assured him. "But it'll be at least five more doses to completely get rid of the burn scars."
Shaggy shoulders shrugged: the fringes took some time to settle down. "It's worth it. For Bessie."
Several young bulls slowly closed their eyes.
"Bessie..." the herd decided, and softly sighed.
"An' what about the magic?" Applejack carefully asked.
"Bessie doesn't like magic," Highland stated. "It makes you look old."
"...and you think lying is bad? I had to write that article!"
"Ah'm sure Sun an' Moon appreciate your sufferin'."
"What are you two talking about?" Gloucester asked.
"Nothing important," Twilight hastily said. "So you're sure there won't be any more experimentation there?"
"Nah," Highland dismissively decided. "Bessie's more important."
The ponies waited through the inevitable chorus.
"And," the young bull thoughtfully added, "I already wrote down a note. Using the new alphabet. Because if magic makes you look old, and branding makes you look old, then if any of us don't wind up with a cow, we can just wait until we are old -- hey, do you see that? Looks like that whole water tank is glowing! And now it's coming over here." He regarded the movement with a certain level of distant respect, because it was a world where water tanks occasionally went out for a float and so you had to treat the whole thing philosophically. "I wonder what it wants."
"You're gonna put that back."
"After I'm done with it."
"Y'ain't gonna jus' dump the whole thing over your mouth --"
"-- how long do cattle live?"
"...less than ponies. 'bout eighty percent, on average. Why?"
"Good."
The lid separated from the main tank. Water sloshed.
"Then you have a maximum estimate on when I'll be done with it." Twilight took a deep, sharp breath. "Tenants!"