Under the Willow

by Orbiting Kettle

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Cutie Mark Crusaders
Length: 1736

Resting under a tree, dozing in the shadow, an old dog meet three young and curious fillies.

He was simply resting a bit, basking in fresh breeze under the tree, almost dozing off, if not for the three little things making a ruckus in the bushes. It wouldn't clearly become lazy afternoon he was hoping for.

A small tale about an old Diamond Dog and his perspective on life.

Published 2015-04-29 23:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-04-29 23:10:02 UTC

Under the Willow

The shade was cool and pleasant, dancing specks of sun shining through the leaves of the tree heating spots on his fur-coat in a relaxing pattern that spoke of laziness and rest. Fresh grass under him created a soft mattress and the music of wind and birds lulled him. The complex tapestry of smells surrounding him describing a peaceful and quiet landscape of meadows, trees and a small river.

Well, almost quiet. There was the rustling bush containing three pony puppies four leaps upwind. He had tried to ignore them for a while, happy to hover between wake and sleep, but the not so hushed chatter made it all but impossible.

He sighed, and pulled himself up against the tree trunk. “Come out little puppies, I hear you.”

All movement stopped, no other sound came from the bush. This risked becoming complicated. “I will not hurt you. Come out little pony puppies.”

Furious chattering followed, and then three little pony-puppies came out of the thicket. He could see them at the edge of his vision, turning slightly his head. One was pale yellow and red, one was white, pink and purple and the last was orange and purple. They came around and sat down a few leaps from him. He briefly looked at them, and then closed his eyes. “Why were you in the bush?”

He heard hooves scratching the soil. Then one the one smelling like fruit answered. “We’re sorry, but we’ve never seen somepony like you mister.”

He nodded. “Curious puppies.”

The voice that answered was soft and sweet, the puppy smelled like flowers. “We aren’t puppies, we’re fillies!”

“Then curious fillies. No difference for me.” He waved his paw. “So, if I answer your questions will you leave me to rest?”

They moved a bit, whispered something, then flower puppy talked again. “We would really like to ask you something mister.” A brief pause. “Are you a Diamond Dog?”

He sighed, now he would answer, then there would be screaming, and probably angry ponies. Maybe he could get enough time between these two occurrences to bask another bit in the beautiful shadow. He prepared for the coming crying. “Yes, I am that.” There was a loud, synchronized gasp, and then…

Something was amiss, no loud sounds nor trampling hooves. He opened an eye, the three pony puppies were still there. Flower puppy, the white one, was the first one to talk. “Will… will you foalnap us?”

He opened his other eye and stared at them. “No, I’m only resting under this tree. Why would I want to foalnap you?”

There was a bit of shuffling. “My sister told me about when she was foalnapped three years ago, and you told us you are a Diamond Dog and…”

He swiveled his ears. “You are sister of the Wailing One?”

“Wailing One?”

He waved a paw. “Only a name, worry not about it.” He carefully considered his situation. He didn’t want to incur in the wrath of the Wailing One, it would mean the end of peace for him, and the disapproval from his pack. It seemed he had to entertain these puppies. At least he could do it in a nice place. “Do you only want to know if I want foalnap puppi… fillies?”

Another shushed conference. This time fruit puppy, the yellow one, talked. “I’m Applebloom, what’s your name mister?”

“Bailey.”

Flower puppy chirped in. “I'm Sweetie Belle.”

“And I’m Scotaloo!” The orange puppy, it smelled like wind over open fields.

He nodded, and closed his eyes again, turning a bit his muzzle to catch a bit of sun on a cheek. There was a again the sound of shuffling hooves. He took a deep breath, and started to cough. Suddenly he felt three pairs of hooves on him.

“Mister Bailey, are you alright? Do you want us to call a doctor?”

“Mister Bailey, do you want something to drink?”

“Mister Bailey, do you want a pat on the back?”

“Mister Bailey, do you…”

He gesticulated with one paw to stop the barrage of questions, while he covered his mouth with the other. As the fit subsidized, he leaned against the trunk, and took a deep breath. With a hoarse voice, he reassured the puppies. “Worry not. It happens, I am simply old.”

Three pair of eyes looked up at him, now that they were so near he could see the worry. He felt his annoyance melt away. The white one was the first to voice her opinions.
“You should go to the doctor. That was a really ugly coughing.”

He waved dismissively. “I say not to worry. It is only my age.”

The three puppies stepped back and sat down around him. Fruit puppy tilted her head. “How old are you?”

He chuckled. “That is an uncouth question.”

The pony looked at her hooves. “Sorry mister.”

“I was only joking. At my age I don’t care much more about this things.” He closed his eyes again. “I dig since ten great dreamings, this is my eleventh, and probably last one.”

Wind puppy seemed puzzled. “Great dreamings? What are those?”

“It’s when earth’s dreams become beautiful gems. Dreams are small and and flow through the rock, like water, but in some places they gather, and when enough are together they start to grow gems. A great dreaming is about every three or four winters, when gems are big enough to be harvested.”

There was a bit of blessed silence, until flower puppy shrieked “You’re stealing dreams? My sister steals dreams?”

He winced, the shrill sound drilling into his eardrums. He could clearly hear her relation to the Wailing one. He cleaned his ears with his fingers before answering. “We don’t steal, we harvest. Dreams are not alive anymore. We harvest and honour them, not like you ponies, you only like them because they shine.”

Fruit puppy took the word. “But you also have gems on you, like that thing on your vest. How’s that different?”

“This is different. You see, we dream small dreams down in the earth, and sometimes this will flow along the great ones and be captured in a gem. When we find one of our dreams, we carry them with us. It is great luck to find them.”

“How do you know that they have your dreams?”

“We know when we find them, it’s something deep inside us.”

He opened his eyes to see the puppies leaning forward and staring at his vest. Wind puppy was the first to talk. “I don’t see any dreams.”

“That’s because you ponies have dreams of air and light. They float up in the sky. Our dreams are of rock and soil, they gather in the earth.” Another fit of coughing got him, worse than the one before. He bowed forward, shaking.

As it abated, his sight cleared again a bit. The puppies were again on him, worried. He carefully lifted them one at a time and placed them beside him. “I told you not to worry, it is normal for my age.” He calmed his breathing. “We are not born as creatures of pure earth, there is still wind and light in us, but with time these things drip away. Our breathing becomes heavy and loaded with rock, the light fades, and at the end we become one with earth. It is the way things are.”

The puppies fell silent. He hoped this meant the end of their questions. He moved a bit, getting more comfortable, raised his muzzle and sniffed the air. So many stories told by the wind, hints of far away things, poems of the near forest, tales of small tragedies and triumphs. The sun played on his face.

Wind puppy broke the quiet. “If you live underground and all that stuff, why are you here?”

It was clear he wouldn’t get the peace he hoped for. “Because it is pleasant. I am a creature of mostly earth, but there is still a bit of air and light in me.” He scratched his nose. “I have dug through the whole world, I have ground my dreams and mixed them with dust and rock, but still sometimes I like a bit of sun and wind. It is a small thing I think I deserve now and then.”

“Aren’t you happy down there?”

He chuckled. “Oh, I am satisfied. I have lived the life of a good Diamond Dog, and when I become earth I will have few regrets. Being happy is such a high goal to reach.” He turned his head a bit. . “I have been happy sometimes, I have been sad, I have been in love…” He sighed. “I have even lost something.” He was silent for a few moments. “I have lived a life I can call my own, there is not much more to ask for. Just maybe a few moments of peace, sun and wind now and then.”

The wind rustled the leaves, a bird was chirping a love song in the distance.

Fruit puppy spoke in a doubtful tone. “Ah don’t get it.”

Bailey opened his eyes and looked at the puppies, he smiled and extended a paw patting the small thing on the head. “No, you don’t, and rightfully so.” He crossed his paws on his stomach. “You don’t need to listen to the ramblings of an old dog. You little creatures of sun and wind. Maybe you will understand sooner or later, or maybe never.”

His ears swiveled. There was the sound of hooves coming nearer. Seemed two ponies were arriving, both of them adults. He slowly rose, joints popping, stretched his arms, yawned a bit. “Well, it seems it is time for me to go. Take care of yourselves little puppies.”

Flower puppy started to protest. “We are not puppies we are….”

The scream cut the air like a claw through tuff. “Sweetie Belle, get away from that thing!”

The ponies were now galloping. He smiled to the little ones again, waved a goodbye and, with a jump, disappeared through the soil, digging his way back to his life, his caves and his last great dreaming. The memory of the short afternoon under the tree, talking to three curious ponies, accompanying him.

Author's Note

Author’s notes:
Thanks to Nicktendonick for pre-reading.

Many thanks to Not_a_Hat for editing and the ton of fixes this story needed.