Bush Whacker

When the wilderness is your home, very little goes unused. Edible plants and fungus dot the landscape, hardened brackets on the trees make for wonderful tinder, vines can be used as cordage. Bush Whacker made use of all that was available, his camp and clearings being good examples but there was one tree in particular, slightly taller than the rest and with a rather flat top that he had always liked. It made watching the night sky and stargazing so much better for some reason.

The day was fine enough, it had its merits, visibility being highest among them. But everypony was so busy, rushing from one thing to the next or being busy indoors. Nopony seemed to take their time during the day. The night was something different, it was a time of relaxation, a time to slow down, an opportunity to refresh. To a younger Bush Whacker days were tartarus, they represented the time when bullies would be close enough to him and when he and his father might fight about nothing. Night was one of the only times he could find solace, an opportunity to decompress. Time he didn’t have to worry about what might happen next.

To the red stallion the night was something beautiful. Proof that for all colors available to ponykind sometimes less is more. With only silvers, whites, and a deep, dark blue, the night sky was an amazing work of art, and Luna was a master artist. Every night the stars would reappear, but never quite the same. Small shifts in location and arrangement made each night special, after every sunset a new work of art was formed. The sky only seemed to get better and better as time went on, at the beginning when Celestia’s sun had set but it’s light still reached Equestria Bush Whacker could see the dusky yellows slowly fade to that midnight blue. After that the stars would seem to only grow in number. His eyes adjusting to the darkness and seeing the subtleties Luna put into her latest masterpiece. Sometimes a stray, wispy cloud high above would ever so slowly be blown around by the currents, masking some stars and highlighting others as it moved.

If the sky above was a masterful painting, the world below was an incredible orchestra. The sounds of insects chirping in the night, some continuously while others would go in sets of two, made their own rhythm. The gentle blowing breeze causing the sound of rustling leaves and branches was ever present in the background. Sometimes an owl or another night bird might pitch in with it’s own unique sound. This wonderful mixture of sound was always present in the forest, echoing throughout no matter where you go. Even the air itself was refreshing, during the day it’s soft and warm, great for naps, but as the sky darkens it becomes cool and crisp. Every breath becomes refreshing and welcome.

To Bush Whacker the night was a beautiful thing, rife with hidden dangers, but to a pony with the right training and mindset it was something otherworldly. Something so at peace and yet so alive it felt almost indescribable to him. It was always a shame when sleep overtook him while he was stargazing. The peaceful serenity lulling him to sleep, the different elements combining to make his eyes heavy. Often he cursed his body’s automatic responses, wishing and willing himself awake for just a little longer. On more than one occasion had he heard some pony joke that bat wings would suit him better.

Bush Whacker had heard that Princess Luna sometimes felt that nopony understood her night, what it truly means. While that may be true, maybe only its ruler could understand all there is, the stallion still liked to think that he might have at least something of an idea.