Beyond her garden
-”Come here little fillies”, grampa said. The room was dark, only slowly crackling fireplace brought light and warm. Grampa was sitting on his chair, heavy woolly blanket in his lap. Group of young ponies gathered around the chair, youngest climbing to his lap.
-”Tonight I shall tell different story. A story about forgiveness and goodness. A story about jealousy and greet. A story from gods gift that was too good for us. A story about mare called Carrot Top.”
-”But isn't that just a tale?” Young pony with blue mane asks.
-”No, my little pony. It is true. I can assure this as I saw it my own eyes.” Grampa answers.
-”When I was even younger than you are now, just a little filly, barely walking my own, she arrived to village where I lived with my parents. Then I didn't understand anything of things that happened, but now on my late years, things have become more clear and I started to remember everything.”
It was hard time to everyone. Drought has bothered our village for months and not a single raindrop had fallen from sky. Eventually even wells dried up. Villagers tried everything from unicorn magic to old pagan spells. Yields died and food storages were shrinking. The little what farmers managed to gather were split between villagers. But we weren't only ones, whole country suffered from it and grain prices rose high. Many of us were thinking moving away from village and some carried out to do it. What happened to them I don't know, but then, along with mail wagon, she arrived to our village. On dusty, dry station she looked like glowing despite other passengers looks. She arrived with surprisingly light baggage despite her goal to move in the village. She had bought the McOlensons house, who had leaved the village in search for better farmland. Everyone welcomed her to our village, as we were kindly folk, especially on hard times like then. After she had settled in, we had feast upon her arrival. We didn't have much left but at least we could share it everyone. After her arrival life continued normally, everyone trying to keep their plantation alive. Carrot Top wasn't exception and surprisingly she managed to grow some vegetables in her garden. It did bring some hope to our village. Maybe drought was over and we all could raise food again.
But slowly rumours started move among people. Some said she stole from other houses, others said she had found water source on her land. The drought didn't disappear, vice versa it only get worse. Even the ground started to crack. Soon everyone started avoid Carrot Top and ignore her attempts to offer food she only managed to grow. Eventually some ponies went so far as starting to call her witch and that she tried to poison us with her carrots. Finally sheriff and town council didn't had other choice than arrest her. Angry crowds demanded burning her as a witch, who had brought even more unhappiness with her. Sheriff denied that because everything was too dry to even light stoves. Identification of witchcraft was given to villages priest, Father Alden. He identified her as a witch and she was hanged outside the village. Some disapproved the quick judgement, others wanted to burn her body afterwards, but everyone though deep in their heart that maybe better times finally would arrive.
There was great expression of astonishment on everyponys face when next morning she arrived from the hanging site, unharmed and smiling gracefully as always. Her mane glowed golden from morning sun and looked like ground around her started to flourish. When finally somepony managed to get enough bravery to speak to her and ask what she was, she just laughed playfully and said:
-”I'm just simple mare, with simple dream.”
And then she walked back to her house, humming serenely. From that moment on, people didn't just approved her, they started to adore her and keep her as saint, a grace gift sent from heavens to aid their village. I myself spent many days helping her with her garden and often she sing me with her lovely, serene voice. Months flew pass and eventually her blessing spread over whole village making it flourishing. We had huge feast in honour of her first six month she had been our village when messenger from big city bring grave news: rumours of Carrot Tops ability had reached ponies in high and mighty positions and they weren't happy. From greet, jealousy and fear they decided to kill her, saying that she most be witch. Great convoy of priests, merchants, politics and royals, all rotted by their sins and desires, was already on the way to our village.
As one, we all stood up and swore to fight to last pony to defend her. She had once forgiven us and given our farms back, now was our time to do our share. Everypony started preparing themselves; blacksmiths heated their forged to bright white, carpenters chose strongest wood for barricades, tailors used their toughest leather for vests. On the dusk of the next night whole village was turned to fortress. When the sun was setting over horizon, there was mares figure, standing over the hill, waiting for her cruel destiny. Carrot Tops silhouette covered whole village, like a gentle mother tucks her child in bed. There she stand and spoke to us, sound filled grace:
-”My time has come, but don't fear. There is no need to you spill blood for me. I have know my destiny from the beginning and I want to thank you all for the life I have had here. Maybe one day you will find peace and a way to return your favour.”
As she had spoken, convoy arrived and captured her. Under gloom, orange sky she was dragged to her house, tied down and set on fire. Whole village stood around blazing building, staring her distress, unable to do anything. Even when the flames devoured her, she stare back to us, serene and gracefully. When the flames finally died and only thing left was smoking ruins of her house, we leaved with heavy hearts. Somepony took one final look back when he noticed that middle of ashes were her garden, still blooming like after morning dew. Even if her body was destroyed , her mind stayed with us one moment longer. We all realized that she always would be here. Watching gently over us, beyond her tomb, beyond her garden.
-Zambza
