Haystacks

Haystacks pressed on through the warm night. The skitter of the occasional flagstone on his hoof was enough to mark the way forward, though he could see plenty well enough on such a moonlit evening.

Should he run? Excited was never a Haystacks kind of feeling, but it simmered like fruit moonshine in his stomach, sweet and bubbly and delicious. And nopony around here could brew it like Mango Leaf.

The mere idea of some of Mango's homebrew gave him a queer burning feeling in the back of his throat, and a sweet twinge to the back of his mouth.

No; walking would do. But trotting a little faster couldn't hurt. There was no reason to keep good company waiting any longer than was necessary, he thought. And besides, it hardly went without saying that he'd been looking forward to this evening for quite a while. Mango Leaf had been a phantasm in his life for what felt like months.

Or was it seasons by now?

The thought dogged him as he passed by the lit windows of the last row of houses in the village, the gold of their fire-lights and candles throwing shadows onto the road. His mind wove lazy beelines around the last year as he tried to remember what had been.

His birthday was the nearer side of winter. And his twenty-second birthday had been only a little while after he'd seen Mango Leaf – yes, he remembered now. Just before it got a bit too chilly for the apple trees to bear any fruit. Even then, Mango had complained bitterly about how mild winter was down here.

He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with a clear summer's night.

He was twenty-three now. That would mean he hadn't seen Mango in little over a year and a bit. And that simply made no sense. How could it ever? It felt like only yesterday that he had found himself curled up adjacent to the fire and Mango, drink in hoof, talking about life, ponies, and everything in between. Whateverso fell into his mind.

Thirteen or fourteen months, perhaps. That was long enough to go without seeing anypony just once.

The line between friend and acquaintance had blurred over the last year, but Mango was a good friend - that much was clear. And barring the reporter mare who had come to the carnival with him, he hadn't really had the heart to call somepony else a good friend in a while. In truth, he hadn't really allowed himself to get to know somepony, or in Mango Leaf's Case, to get to know him all over again.

Haystacks wondered briefly if Mango had changed. It lingered longer than he would have liked, and some small wisp of emotion stirred within him. It vanished just as quickly as he became aware of his surroundings, and he glanced up.

Barring a few lonely abodes behind him, the village had finally given way to the fertile fields that surrounded the town, most of them still not quite ready for harvest, and some fallow altogether. Those that were not waved at him as the wind swept silvery ripples across their moonlit surfaces.

Haystacks cast a cursory glance around, and the distant glimmer of the campfire caught his eye. He made a path for it.

The point where the paved stone of the township dwindled to the sprawling miles of dusty country roads was where he knew his friend would be. Despite repeated offers, Mango never chose to stay at the farm or in town. Perhaps he was more comfortable when he could see the sky. But then, that was Mango in a nutshell. Always stargazing.

As he came nearer the fire, he could make out the familiar blue wagon silhouetted against the flame, just next to the sign that marked the crossroads out to Sweet Apple Acres. It seemed like this time, Mango Leaf had been more careful about where he'd camped out.

Haystacks smiled to himself. He'd been a little curious about where the unicorn might choose to park his cart this year – and in particular, whether or not it would be on top of somepony's prize flower garden.

He took a fond moment to remember. Lily had caused such a fuss. The rhododendrons were still delicious, though, and in fairness to Mango, the patch didn't have a fence around it. He had even tried to make amends, albiet by making a rhododendron-flavoured snowcone out of some of the flowers and offering them back to her.

A smirk flitted its way across his lips. Perhaps, all things considered, it was better that he was farther out of town.

As he approached the camp proper, he took the location in. A nice, flat piece of earth just off the road, underneath a few sycamore trees. He could smell the woodsmoke of the fire now, mixed with the pleasantly familiar scent of mango chutney and vegetables. One lone figure lay prostrated by the fire, looking for all the world like the shaggy, mop-headed unicorn he fondly remembered.

“Nice place you got here,” he observed.

The figure by the fire jumped, and clambered to its hooves a little too quickly. It spun around, staring into the darkness. From the glow of the fire, Haystacks could faintly make out Mango Leaf's face, hidden amongst his thick, braided mane of mandarin and orange.

“Did ya finally decide to show up?!” he replied, his voice brashful and melodious. “Haikili save me, cousin, you like to take your sweet time, huh!?”

They took a few cantering steps forward each, meeting close enough to the light that their faces were clear to the other. He'd grown a beard since they last met, Haystacks observed. An uneasy smile spread its way across his face.

“Mango,” Haystacks murmured, proffering him a hoof.

Mango blinked. He stared at the hoof, and back. The mirth in Haystacks' chest began to spread up and away from his stomach, and now it was at the corners of his cheeks, threatening to burst. He felt like he might, and the thought didn't worry him one bit.

Mango Leaf's response, however, was a forlorn scowl.

“Haystacks,” he said, desiccating his words. “Hay-stacks. Do you mind explaining to me what in the hay is that supposed to be?” he jabbed his hoof at  Haystacks' own.

The farmpony looked down at his hoof, up at Mango, and down again. Whatever smile had been there before slipped off his face like it was roped to an anchor.

“...What?” Haystacks recoiled, retracting his hoof a slight. “What do you mean, what, I –”

“Cousins don't shake hooves,” Mango Leaf replied firmly. “They hug." his voice softened. "Now come here, you big lump.”

And before Haystacks could think, the Haywaaiin took a half-step forward, reached out, and put a foreleg around his neck, pulling him into an embrace.

After a few seconds of shock, he raised his own foreleg and hugged him back tightly.

“...You missed me, then?” jibed Mango Leaf, into his left ear.

He'd often thought about how to reply to a question like that. The scene that unfolded before him was one that sometimes drifted through his mind after the evening's work was done, during those precious twilight hours where the small ponies seemed to do their best thinking.

Strange, then, that he could give no reply that felt tough or strong.

“Of course I did,” he said.

The hoof around the upper part of his back tightened sharply. For a brief second, the gentle snaps of the fire and the distant blare of cicadas was all there was to hear.

“Me too, bud.”

They separated to a hoof's length. Haystacks continued to regard the unicorn with a mixture of caution and amusement, but he couldn't help the delight that etched its way into his features.

“You... surprised me a bit, there,” he mumbled.

“Why?” The unicorn grinned foolishly, and the duo broke apart. “What, did think I'd changed horribly or something?”

“Well, so long as we're being honest with each-other, then yes.” Haystacks replied.

“And likewise, cousin. I thought you might be the one who'd changed, huh?" Mango Leaf said. "Good thing that didn't happen. You're still the ugliest son of a hydra I've ever had the chance of meeting." He turned and trotted to the fireside, leaving Haystacks to snort amusedly to himself. A wreath of emerald magic took hold of a large pot that hung just above the fireplace, removing its lid to stir slightly.

"I'm glad you're here," the unicorn added, his voice taking a fond tone as he worked.

Haystacks smiled. Spices that he hadn't thought he'd ever smell again made his mouth water.

“I wouldn't trade anything for it. Not for the world,” he replied. “I just had some work to do first.”

Now it was Mango Leaf's turn to nicker breathily. “Hah! Just like you. Keep an old friend waiting for your job? What are you, married to it?” He beckoned Haystacks over. “Come sit, so I can hear all about it. My legs are killing me.”

The earth pony took a few strides, bring himself forward to the fireside. In the light, he felt and looked less pale, less the pallid shade of dry grass and more the colour of his namesake. Warmth seeped into his hooves from the dusty earth. Whatever nerves that had dogged him vanished into the night, and as Mango Leaf placed another log on the fire, he forgot ever having had any worries at all.

“I'll trade you,” Haystacks said. “Fill me a glass of that drink you make, and we'll talk.”

Okolehao. That was what he called it. Equestrian Okolehao, 'mixed with mango juice so it didn't knock you out and send you home, cousin'. That was fine by Haystacks. The last thing he wanted to do was to fall asleep in a field next to his friend and that warm fire.

At least, that was the initial thought.

“To us again! Ōkole maluna!” Mango said cheerfully, his voice slightly slurred.

“Cheers,” he replied.

The liqueur sloshed greedily from the two tankards as they clicked together for what must have been the fourth or fifth time. Haystacks raised it to his lips and allowed the golden, fruity mixture to flow down his throat, savouring every drop.

It went nicely with the stew, a hearty mixture of rice and fresh vegetables with a mango chutney. Mango insisted he was no good with anything hot – still, after all this time, Haystacks said – but that was all fine. He helped with the cooking, and together, they made something that was more than half-edible.

The tankard was a third empty before he put it down. He continued his story as a fresh buzz of alcohol zipped its way into his stomach.

“...So I'm out in the field, with nothing on me, right? And so I had to get the damn thing unstuck, fix it, while it's raining, and I'm knee-deep in mud, and of course, as soon as I get the plough fixed again, poof.” He swept his free hoof in a fanning gesture. “Sun comes out. Beautiful weather. And here I am caked in mud and Celestia knows what else. And that's when the carriage of tourists rolls by.”

The noise Mango Leaf made was somewhere between a leaky gas pipe and a rusty axle. The tears rolling from his eyes stained his yellow coat a shade darker as he doubled over in laughter that looked almost painful.

Haystacks waited until it subsided, feeling his cheeks ache through his own barely-controlled grin, until the noise of Mango Leaf's occasional hiccuping laughs fell quiet, and nature resumed its dominance of the realms of sound and sight. He felt his head draw itself high to the heavens above, though whether the urge to do so came from the alcohol or the weariness that eked at his bones, he couldn't say.

“...I've missed this,” he whispered, barely audible above the crickets.

And there it was. More than a statement of how pleasant it was to see Mango, it tapped into that strange other, that unspoken-of area that had plagued his mind – how nice it was to not be alone for a while.

He mused about adding more to that particular thought, but decided against it. He was never so good with describing his feelings. They sat best, and most comfortably, under wraps.

“S'been a while since, huh?” Mango replied.

Haystacks blinked. The stars looked clearer tonight.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Haven't seen you in ages.”

He heard the scraping of a spoon against a bowl as somepony scooped the last of their frozen yoghurt from a wooden bowl.

“That's...” there was a pause as Mango ate more of his dessert. “'At's not what eye meen.”

Haystacks dropped his gaze. The golden pony continued to tuck into his bowl, speaking almost absent-mindedly.

“Well, what do you mean?” the farmer replied, shifting his body against the woollen rug that lay between him and the earth.

“Eye meen,” Mango said, before swallowing, “That you don't get out much.”

Haystacks nickered indignantly, but made no reply. There was nothing about Mango's attitude, laissez-faire as it was, that showed any sign of a joke. He even went so far as to size Mango Leaf up, only to find that Mango Leaf was looking at him the same way.

“And how do you figure?” he finally conceded.

Mango's head tilted, his lips locked into a contended smirk.

“I mean that the farm is all you do,” he replied.

Haystacks fell silent, watching the fire burn until the absence of a reply began to eat away at him.

“It's just work. Work is something I have to do, and that's all,” he said, taking another sip of his drink.

“So you don't like it?” came the reply.

He had to think about that one.

“I do.”

That was honest enough. The farm was one of the few things he had in this world. How could he not love it?

There was a pause.

“...When was the last time you did something like this, Hay?” Mango quipped.

Haystacks didn't have to think to give him an answer.

“I told you about the reporter mare, right?” he said. “We went to the carnival together?”

“Yeah." Mango wiped his mouth and grinned. "But was that the only time you've gotten out and about? Blown the cobwebs out, so to speak?”

Haystacks frowned.

“In how long?”

Another pause. It only took a fraction of a second for the farmer to realise that he'd said more than he'd intended to.

“Uh, I mean...” he picked his words carefully. “Technically, yes. The 'only' time.”

“And do you remember the last time before that?”

Haystacks turned his head away, gazing over the fire and into the darkness.

“It was here,” he replied. “With you.”

“So twice in a year,” Mango said flatly.

“And there was that one time I went down to the tavern and stayed a while.”

“Three times,” he repeated. "And ya folks work there. That's cheating."

“Well, I... I'm sure I'm just not remembering some of them.” he nickered, lowering his hat onto his brow a bit more. “What's your point?”

“My point is, cousin,” Mango Leaf began. Haystacks heard a shuffling, and glanced up to see that Mango was moving his things around the edge of the fire. A small mat rolled itself out beside him, and Mango Leaf lay beside him, facing the fire. They were almost touching shoulders.

“My point is... other then that, all you've done is talk about work. That's fine and all, but... do you feel like that it's all you do, though?” Mango replied. “Don't you think you're a bit... well, lifeless?”

It wasn't really an admission he had ever made to himself. Work had always kept him busy; but that was the beauty of it. Where there was work, there was never much time to do much else. Including think.

“I don't know,” he replied. For some reason, Mango was hard to look at, even though he was only a hooflength to his left. “I just do what I think is right. I don't even think about it much. I just know I have to work hard.”

A silence fell between them. The fire snapped happily, long since having been reduced to a few small branches and coals.

“I wasn't being rude, or anything, cousin.” he sounded concerned. “Maopopo I a'u. I know what you mean. You told me about you having to run the farm on your own. I was just saying that I thought you'd changed, that was all.”

A small coal, seperated from the rest of the fire by a small plain of ash, caught Haystacks' eye. It sat alone, glowing gently.

Mango Leaf would be the only pony who had really seen him before and after his life had taken a turn for the adult. He was the only pony that had snapshots of Haystacks, that went as far back as he himself could remember.

A burning sensation crept into his stomach.

“I mean, have you ever considered that you might not want to be a farmer, Hay?”

He didn't reply. He couldn't.

He wouldn't.

“...Is this about your Momma, Hay?”

A full-body shiver caught Haystacks unawares. While it was easily hidden beneath the rug draped around his shoulders, the shaking breath that accompanied it was, regrettably, left bare to the campsite and its two inhabitants, and the whole night sky.

The tankard, just short of his right hoof, never looked so appealing. He seized it, and took another drink.

It was just the alcohol, he thought. Some Haywaain plant or herb that Mango had brought with him from the far side of Equestria. Surely it was just a side effect. The tears weren't meant to be. He was a strong pony, his father's pony, the farmer.

They burned all the way down.

Nothing ever really needed to be said between them. That was the best part. Whole volumes were spoken in the slow seconds of life that washed away as they sat, watching the fire burn for just a little longer. Catharsis. There was no rush, and nothing more important than each other.

But all good things had to come to an end sometime.

“Do you remember when we first ran into eachother?” Mango said.

Haystacks nodded, though he was not able to bring his gaze to bear on the unicorn.

He had just been given frozen yoghurt from Mango. The first time was always free, Mango said. It had always seemed bizarre how much attention the cart had gotten from the villageponies, so Haystacks accepted. One bite, and he saw why.

“I was gettin' angry at the flower mare,” Mango continued.

“...Lily?” the farmpony murmured.

Mango shivered audibly at the name.

“'Ae, that nag. Terrible temper... but she has a great butt.”

Haystacks snorted with a mixture of shock and laughter. The exertion felt good, an outlet for the pressure in his chest.

“S-she was paying you out about the flower snowcone, as I recall,” he said. “The one you made from her ruined flower garden.”

Mango Leaf nickered angrily. “But the snowcone was a great idea!”

“Time and place, surely?...” Haystacks murmured.

“No.” The unicorn paused for emphasis. “That's just it, Haystacks. That's just it.”

He felt a warmth on his shoulder, and looked over to find a hoof there. He looked up.

Haystacks could never recall Mango looking so intense, so serious in all his life.

“That's the whole point,” Mango said. “Don't you see? You can't compromise on what you feel like you have to do, cousin.” He gave Haystacks a wan smile. “You can't, not even for a second. And in the long run, if you can't meet your dreams halfway, then how are you ever going to be happy?”

Haystacks bowed his head. The shadow of the hat shaded his cheeks from the heat of the campfire.

“When you...” he sniffed, and wiped away the damp at the corner of his eye. “When you have people who rely on you, things change. It all changes.”

“That's true. But I don't think, even then, that your parents would want you to have anything less then they have. That they would want you to give up on your own dreams. That's why they worked so hard in the first place, right?”

The farmpony blinked, mulling the thought over.

It seemed... right. It made sense. He had never told his parents about Minie Ball's offer, and he had never been able to work out why. Had he thought they would be angry for passing up on the chance to leave? To sell his business and just go somewhere, like Mango?

“Life throws adversity at you.” Mango continued. “But you have to find a way to carry on regardless. I spent too long trying to do things that everyone wanted me to do. Luau and firebreathing and swimming and canoeing, and sweet sun-princess knows what else. And in the end, all I wanted to do in life was just simple. I just wanted to share frozen yoghurt, what I liked the most, with everyone. Sure, it didn't stick too well with my folks at first, but at the end of the day, that's what made me happy, and they helped me with that." Mango Leaf paused a moment. "I didn't compromise on what made me happy. And you shouldn't either."

Haystacks couldn't help but chuckle, just a little. The logic, while classically Mango Leaf, was bizarrely sound. And despite the uncertainty in his heart, the thought of Mango persevering stayed with him, and the more un-knotted his stomach began to feel.

“How, though?” Haystacks said. “I've got so much to do right now, it's just –” He sighed. His shoulders felt heavy. “So much to do.”

Mango Leaf clucked his tongue. “I don't know how, cousin. I'm just a simple fro-yo vendor. But don't worry. If we think about it together, and walk the same road, then I'm sure we'll make some sense out of it. But you promise you'll chase your dreams, right?” He shoved Haystacks lightly. “No matter what happens.”

Haystacks nodded gamely, and dragged the back of his hoof across both of his eyes. The smile slipped unbidden onto his cheeks.

“Whatever they might be,” he said. “I promise.”