Bush Whacker

Another fight over nothing. Growing up in Ponyville is normally peaceful as a dream, unless your name happens to be Bush Whacker. Bullied constantly at school for not being an athletic pegasus, for not being as good as the others, for not having his mark, being constantly told he should have a horn instead of wings, it would suit him better. This wouldn’t be so bad if he had somewhere to find respite, his home life often got him into fights with his father, Dusty Gasket, over nothing at all while he waited for his mother, Loyal Heart, to get home from her job in the guard. The hard days were when she couldn’t come home. Today had been another of the bad days, his mom wouldn’t be coming home for a few more days, bullied again, and getting in another argument with his dad. Bush Whacker had had enough. Knowing after these arguments Gasket would be in his workshop for hours he grabbed his still unpacked and half eaten lunch box and went for the the only place besides his mother’s embrace where he could find some solace, the Everfree Forest, this time though, he didn’t look back.

Bush Whacker had no idea why this forsaken forest gave him a sense of ease. Maybe it was that no one was here to pick on or argue with him, maybe it was something about all those Survivor Pony books he had read. Finally he found what he wanted, a nice clearing close to a stream, for the first time in a while the colt felt at peace, his mind slowing and recounting his experiences. With no pony around to hear him or tell him to be a stallion and stop, he finally let it all out and cried. He laid in that clearing for over an hour, stopping only when he noticed it was in the afternoon and he had nowhere to sleep, nothing to shelter him, and only a little bit of food. Wiping his face of tears with his hoof and sniffling a last time he got to work as best a young colt who didn’t want to go back could.

The sun was setting as Bush Whacker looked at his new home, a small lean-to against an old tree, a log for him to sit on, and a bed of leaves and plant matter. For now it was enough. After eating the rest of his meal and some plants he found near the stream he decided this was enough for the day and went to his shelter to rest as he watched the moon rise into the sky. As the colt was falling asleep the sound of somepony yelling his name reached his ears, it sounded like his dad but to the tired pony it felt more like his mind reminding him of the day and dismissed it as a dream.

He didn’t remember waking up or expanding his campsite but apparently he did. He saw a well maintained fire in the middle of several logs, one of them with a pillow and a bottle of cider nearby, and a large canvas tent with numerous supplies inside. Even the stream was different, it looked like it had fallen a few feet into the ground, a large field of plants was on the other side, and a sharpened rock was lying in the soil next to him. When he was here last he felt at peace, like he was on a vacation, but now he felt different, something he had sorely missed, he felt at home. Smiling lightly he knelt down to take a drink before jumping back at the most unfamiliar thing so far. His reflection was no longer that of the young red colt, but was now a large stallion with a somewhat shaggy beard and a cutie mark that looked like a map in a speech bubble from one of his comics.

Bush Whacker awoke suddenly not only from the remnants of a flash of light inside his shelter but to the sound of that same voice shouting his name much louder and closer. He had barely risen to a sitting position when his father entered the clearing with notable tears in his eyes. The colt didn’t have time to say anything before he found himself in a tight hug from his dad, Bush Whacker simply closed his eyes and hugged back.