...And The Reluctant Weatherpony

Had a bit of a squall blow through after we finished getting the carriage settled.

It’s funny. Before this trip, I’d have been one of the first in the air the moment the weather turned bad. When we first left Horseshoe Corners, it was still a really strong habit to fly off and deal with bad weather – even when I was in harness. Now I’m used to letting the local weatherponies do their own job rather than rushing to do it for them.

So, naturally, we wind up somewhere the local weatherponies – well, weatherpony – didn’t exactly spring promptly into action.

The Very Eager Messenger

Who’d have thought that Cold Front would be good with foals? Or, more to the point I guess, that they’d be good with him?

Introductions, Continued

Introductions continued from there. Hearthfire had already spoken up; then, in no particular order that I could tell, came the O’Nettles who ran the cafe we’d stopped next to – Silver, mother of the very excitable Flame; her husband Wooly; and their daughter Marie. Then the doctor, Patch, and a helpful-pony-about-town who went by the name Puppydog Tails. Rodeo Glitz – the one who’d made that largely unsuccessful bid to instil some civilized graces in Snapdragon – and Rodeo Buck, the ranchers, and their mother Country Chique; a few more from the family were apparently up at the ranch yet, along with the handymare. And also present for the go-round of introductions were the tanner and leatherworker, Oakseed and Saddleblaze. Absent were the mail ponies – Rush Delivery and Sleet-and-Snow, both of whom I’ve met on their way through Horseshoe Corners – and the weather pony, Stargazer, whose absence was dismissed as “probably kicking back on a cloud somewhere, watching the sky.” And not said in a tone of voice that suggested any vigilance about the actual weather.

Meeting the Other Neighbours

Just as Star Bright was about to start on introductions, there was a fresh stir at the edge of the... well, “crowd” might not be a very good word for it, but the group of ponies around us.

It was a Diomaredes – had to be. In overall form she might be mistaken for an earth pony, though I hadn’t exactly seen many mares that powerfully built. Not all that many stallions, for that matter. The fangs were another definite clue.

And the fact that she had actual blood on her actual face was a dead giveaway. I may have already come to the conclusion that some of my traveling companions fed on blood – and had it confirmed – but having it inescapably right there in front of me was another matter; I probably boggled a bit in spite of my best efforts to let it pass.

A Very Enthusiastic Welcome

We aimed to set down in the middle of the densest part of town. There were some buildings scattered farther out – farmhouses and such that looked to be tenanted, as well as some of the closed-up ones – but that cluster seemed like the best place to meet the locals.

We made a neat landing on the path, though we didn’t bother with the fancy sliding stop; we hit the ground running and just slowed our step from there. And seemingly before we’d quite done so, something small, green, and very excitable was practically underfoot.

The colt was talking so fast, and bouncing around so much as he did so, that I couldn’t clearly make out what he was saying. I could identify “Royal Guard” because he put some special stress on it when he said it; other than that, a few names – Dewdrop’s, and my own.

Obviously we’d come across Dewdrop’s young penpal. And he seemed to be under the impression that Cold Front was, in fact, me.

To Witherby

We had a bit of a briefing session before we headed out for the day.

“What do you know about the Diomaredes?” Star Bright asked me.

“Little enough,” I confessed, “though more than most ponies in Horseshoe Corners. They’re predators – haven’t heard any word of them eating ponies, but it still makes some ponies nervous. More of them than there are, uh, ‘common’ ponies around Witherby. And they’re all mares – not sure what they do with colts, or if they just don’t have any.”

...And Life in the Small Town

A little while later still, he murmured over my ears, “So what about you?”

“Huh?” My brain struggled to cycle back a bit – we hadn’t been much concerned with that conversation over the intervening time.

“What do you enjoy doing when you’ve a moment to be yourself – and can be convinced to take it?”

Life in the Big City

“So what do you do,” I asked a bit later, “when you’re not finding wishes worth granting?”

There was more than enough of a bite in the air to justify setting up the tents; of course, with magic, that was the work of seconds, rather than minutes, making it an even easier decision. And while the carriage was so elaborate I sometimes felt like I was making it go down in value just being near it, the tents were simple affairs. Technically three of them were packed along, each suitable for two ponies, but since one of the other three will be on watch anyway, one consequence of my finally being bold enough to talk to the stallion that’s been so much on my mind has been that nopony felt a need to clear ground for the third tent. The bat ponies greeted that decision cheerfully, since this campsite’s a little short on actual smooth ground and that meant they didn’t have to squeeze in too much to fit all the tents; Cold Front accepted it calmly enough that I could actually believe he might be coming round on the whole business.

Still not going to muddy the waters by pressing him about it, though.

Passersby

Our unexpected guest turned out to be a griffon.

I haven’t met one before, or even seen one, but I have at least heard of them, and there wasn’t anything else it could be – bird’s head, talons, and wing’s, cat’s body, tail, and hindpaws. The biggest surprise was that this one was rather smaller than I expected.

Once he’d been waved down, he shifted from circling overhead into a steep dive and a skidding stop that would’ve done the Academy proud, and that was when I find myself needing to suddenly look down. The top of his head, held high and proud as it was, came up to my withers. If that. Rather than the white head and tawny body that all the pictures I’d seen had featured, he had a black head with white around the eyes and on the bill, shading into a brighter yellow body with black spots all over, but it was the size that really caught my eye.

Getting to Know You

One more day should bring us to Witherby. The wind’s been neither with us nor against us, so we’re likely to arrive in the evening unless there’s a major shift in that department. Which could happen – this close to the Ravenous Reef, you can’t really count on the weather for much of anything, least of all being steady one day to the next. But it’s pretty likely we’ll be there by sundown tomorrow, even allowing for some headwind, as long as we don’t wind up completely grounded.

After dinner was eaten (or, well, drunk, I guess), the fact that I still knew next to nothing about my various companions really struck me. And this could be the last night I’d have away from other ponies to do something about it. Star Bright was discussing something with Heartsblood, and I wasn’t feeling nearly bold enough to approach Cold Front about it at this point, so that left Crimson Tear, who was giving the carriage a looking-over.

Oncoming Homecoming

Things are definitely a bit chilly with Cold Front.

Comet Trail will probably be greatly amused by that line, but I just can’t think of another way to put it, so it stays. He hasn’t said a single word to me since Cedar Rapids, and I’ve been following the advice I was given and not doing so either. He hasn’t been looking at me much that I’ve seen, either. Not that I’ve been staring at him, of course. I keep half-expecting another shoe to drop somewhere, but I’m hoping not to be the one that makes it happen by antagonizing him.

The tension’s uncomfortable, but, well, what else could I do? It was pretty uncomfortable having things with Star Bright hanging unresolved, too. Now, at least, even if it still feels strange if I stop to think about it, my situation with him feels good.

Clearing the Air

There’s only so much I can do to avoid somepony when I work in harness right next to him.

While Star Bright was saying farewell to the Mayor, I nerved up to ask Heartsblood (who had the advantage over Crimson Tear of at least a partial night’s sleep, after all) just what I should do about Cold Front. His answer was, “As little as possible. Focus on the task at hand. You’ll need to coordinate with him for takeoff and especially for landings; apart from that, try to pay him no mind. If he tries to give you trouble, talk to one of us – or to Himself. Most likely he’ll be studiously ignoring you, though, and in your shoes I’d do the same.”

Not exactly encouraging. But it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve needed to be coolly civil. Between those past events and his advice, hopefully I’d get through the days without major incident.

Unchanging of the Guard

Star Bright set to finding quill, ink, and paper to write a response; I, meanwhile, took the time to get into my armour, and made sure to get it as right as I could. I may have marred the image somewhat by the way I showed up the night before, but I was determined to do it as much justice as I could – any job worth doing was worth doing right, as somepony or other has said.

In the end, after tying up his response with the ribbon the original letter came in and sending the bird back on its way, it was Star Bright who slightly tarnished his own fine image by wearing what was left of the lei, now more greenery than flowers. He obligingly looked over my uniform, helped adjust one of the haunch plates, and that was that; out we went to face destiny, or failing that, breakfast.

Plots and Plans

On learning that I was familiar with Witherby – and that it wasn't so far out of the way as to be a major diversion in our course – Star Bright became much more positive about the undertaking. “The last thing I wanted to do was risk keeping you and yours apart for Hearth's Warming after all,” he said, tugging a flower off the candied lei we'd largely forgotten about the night before and hovering it over to me while he unrolled a map with his hooves. “But you say it's close to Horseshoe Corners?”

“Close enough for a pegasus to make a day trip of it,” I confirmed around my snack. “More of a hike by ground, the terrain can be a bit rugged.”

“And near the Ravenous Reef... ah, here it is.” His hoof tracked westwards as his magic plucked another dandelion for himself. “And here we are. Not so much of a diversion as I was fearing, indeed!”

A Royal Missive

I didn't want to pry; however curious the messenger, Star Bright's mail was none of my business. But trying to leave the suite would either involve gathering up and putting on my armour first, or just make me come back for it all the more conspicuously later. By way of compromise, I stood over by the side table and nibbled on some mixed nuts.

But when his expression started screaming “bad news,” I couldn't just leave him to stew in it. “Something wrong?” I asked. I could tell that there quite plainly was, but I wanted to at least leave him a graceful way out of going into detail.

Message in the Morning

Waking up was an experience.

For one confused moment, on the edge of waking, the warmth against me sent me right back home. To Comet Trail. It didn't last to the point that I could embarrass myself - the bed under me was a bit too soft, the form nestled against mine decidedly too big, and his breathing just didn't match.

No, by the time I opened my eyes I knew very well who that was. And the thought still gave me a thrill. But I didn't get to that point without first feeling a rush of homesickness.

Which, I suppose, told me where I really belonged in the long run. At the moment, though - after that rush faded - I was pretty happy to be where I was.

Moment of Truth

Happy ponies, it seems, will find more reasons to be happy.

Cedar Rapids isn't actually much bigger than Bridle Hill, as it turns out. But the cedar forest that gave the town its name is also the single biggest source of its prosperity: woodwork ranging from figurines to furniture, much but by no means all of it from aromatic cedar, draws in enough bits that the town doesn't lack for anything they need. It's not a place of leisure - even the foals seemed to be pretty busy when we arrived - but it can afford to take some leisure, and the visit of a royal carriage was an excuse for them to do just that. The difference between these busy but affable ponies and the hardscrabble lot in Bridle Hill was stunning.