Breeze

Optional read: Regarding AJ's Accent: why I did it this way and why I might change it update: not changing it

Thursday, 24th of Bloom

Twi’ said keepin’ a log of the apple growth this season would help her with her buttanical studies or something.  Also told me Ah might learn a thing or two about the “science” behind apple harvesting myself.  Ah told her, “Twilight Sparkle, are you suggesting there are things about apple growing that Ah don’t already know forward and back?”  Then she asked me something about acksillary buds and a Calvin cycle and zy-lum.  Ah said, “Twi’, there’s more to growing than your fancy word talk and graphs and charts.  Trees are living things, and we can plant ’em and raise ’em just as you would a filly.  And you don’t need any fancy words for that.”She sighed at me, but I ain’t mad—that’s just Twi’ being Twi’.

Anyway, this log-keeping is hard work.  My mouth already hurts from all this writing.  Need to get a better tasting pencil.  Apple-flavored pencils, maybe... Ah should tell Granny Smith about that one.

Rainfall: 27 bd (as planned by the pegasuses pegersi Cloudsdale)

Temperture: 12 P

Sunlight: Some

Apple Description: tiny

Friday, 25th of Bloom

Rainfall: 0 bd

Temperture: 15 P

Sunlight: Lots

Apple Description: still tiny

Saturday, 26th of Bloom

How is this even gonna help Twilight?  The apples aren’t much diffrent today than they were yesterday or the day before.  They grow so slowly that it’ll be at least a week before there’s any change.  Ah’ll do it for her if she says it’ll help, though.

Ah showed her my first two entries.  She said to be more detailed in the description part.  Gave me a ruler to measure.  She also asked why Ah write with my accent.  What kinda question is that?  It’s how Ah speak, ain’t it?  Why wouldn’t Ah write how Ah speak?

She said Ah was spellin’ some words wrong.  But she still knew what Ah meant.  So Ah don’t see the big deal.

We had a rainstorm today that wasn’t planned by the pegasi.  That’s how Twi’ said to write it.  P-E-G-A-S-I.  You happy, Twi’?  Ah’m just teasin’.  Ah appreciate her tryin’ to help me, even if writin’ and usin’ numbers ain’t my thing.  Heck, the only letters Ah’ve ever sent were written by Spike.  Ah’m getting better with the pencil, too.  Even learned how to sharpen it.

Anyway, the rainstorm wasn’t planned by the pegasi.  It only lasted a few minutes until RD took care of it.  She said somepony accidentally put a storm cloud where a normal cloud was s’posed to go.  Ah think she was sleepin’ on the job again.

Rainfall: 3 bd

Temperture Temperature: 14 P

Sunlight: Mostly lots

Apple Description: Tiny.  2 bd.

Monday, 28th of Bloom

It’s been getting hotter an’ hotter these past few weeks.  More so than usual during this time of year, Ah mean.  Ah’ll have to ask Dash what the pegasi have in store for us.

Ah saw something interesting last night.  Ah was getting into bed, all ready for a good night’s sleep, when Ah looked out the window and saw smoke rising a few acres into the orchard.  Not a lot of smoke, like from a big fire; just a tiny stream of smoke rising up out of the trees.  ’Course, Ah nearly panicked, thinking the whole orchard was ablaze—but Ah remembered that if a tree was alite, it woulda been visible because the first thing to catch flame is always the leaves.

Ah got right outta bed and grabbed my hat and lasso, and was just about to head out and see what was causing that smoke, but when I looked out the window again, it was gone.  Funny.  So Ah hung my hat up and decided to get some sleep instead, because Ah was mighty tired and knew Ah could look around the next day.

This mornin’ Ah got outta bed, and soon’as Ah got my hat and lasso, Ah went out into the orchard to see if Ah could find whatever it was that caused the smoke.  Musta searched an hour before Ah gave up.  Without the smoke floatin’ in the air, it was impossible to figure out where it was comin’ from last night.  Got some nice exercise and plenty of fresh air, though.

Rainfall: 0 bd

Temperature: 16 P

Sunlight: Plenty

Apple Description: Tiny. 2 bd.

Tuesday, 29th of Bloom

Finally the weather’s cooled down a bit.  Ah could go outside and enjoy the wind without havin’ to worry about dehidration or anything.

No smoke clouds, either.  Ah asked Big Mac and Granny about it.  Mac said Ah was probably just seeing things.  Granny Smith said somethin’ about how back in her day they had to make fire by rubbing sticks t’gether.  So Ah’ll just leave it at that, Ah guess.

But Ah’m not just seein’ things.

Rainfall: 0 bd

Temperature: 13 P

Sunlight: Some.  Pretty cloudy today.

Apple Description: Tiny. 2 bd.

Wednesday, 30th of Bloom, 6:00 AM

Ho boy.  Do Ah have a story to tell.  Ah don’t know if Ah can, though.  If he’ll let me, Ah mean.

Ah shouldn’t have even said that.

Uh, anyway, it’s looking to be a real stormy day so far.  The orchard is practically a mud bath.

Ah’ll come back later today and write in the apple details, and hopefully a little more ’bout what’s going on.

He said Ah wasn’t supposed to tell anypony... this log ain’t a pony, though.

Wednesday, 30th of Bloom, 8:00 AM

He told me his name is Beaufort Breeze.  He doesn’t like that name.  Everypony just calls him Breeze, he said.

There Ah go, already gettin’ ahead of myself.

Last night, Ah saw the smoke again.  This time, Ah was out looking before he put the fire out, or else Ah would have never been able to find him.

Ah followed the smoke through the orchard, down into the deepest patches of trees, the ones that sometimes confuse even me—’specially at night.  No wonder nopony had found him until now.

He was in a clearing.  Asleep.  Ah saw him there, curled up and nearly snoring, the fire embers dying to grey.  He was grey himself, a pegasus, his wings fluttering a bit in his sleep like Rainbow’s sometimes do.  His mark was a dark cloud pouring rain.  Around him were four or five apple cores—and a short mound of them was out by the edge of the clearing.  Ah thought Ah had myself a thief—from time to time, no-good apple-stealers try to make money off our hard work by stelain’ our apples and selling ’em.  But Ah gave him the benefit of the doubt.  ’Sides, if he was a thief, he was a lousy one; why work so hard to steal apples if you’re only gonna eat them and not even sell them?

Anyway, Ah was afraid to wake him.  Ah had no idea who he was, what he was doin’ in my apple farm, or what he wanted.  But Ah intended to find out.  So, despite my fears, Ah gently shook him awake.

“Hey,” Ah whispered, giving him a prod.  “Hey... ’scuse me, you’re in my farm eatin’ my apples... hey, wake up!”

He opened one eye, and Ah thought he was gonna fly off right that instant.  He jumped up, wings lifting him backwards, eyes wide, like a cornered dog.

“Whoa, there!  Calm down!  It’s alright, Ah don’t bite!”

His breathin’ slowed down a bit, but he eyed me with suspicion.  His wings were still ready for liftoff.  We stared at each other for a moment, me waiting for him to speak, him waiting for... waiting for me to accuse him of something, Ah think.  Or yell at him.  Ah still don’t know.  Either way, it was clear he wasn’t plannin’ on talking, so Ah went first.

“Uh... Ah think you’re on my farm eatin’ my apples.  And Ah know you’ve been here for at least a few days, ’cause Ah’ve seen your smoke before.  So you’d better ’splain yourself, because Ah don’t like thieves.”  Clearly that was the wrong thing to say, because he backed up again, eyes still wide, and it seemed he was about ready to fly off.  “Hey—now just hold on a minute!  Ah didn’t mean to yell or nothin’!”  Ah tell ya, Ah was confused at this point.  Ah caught somepony takin’ up space on my land and eatin’ my hard-earned apples, and Ah was the one apologizing.  But that’s just how it was.

“I’m... sorry,” he stammered.  His shoulders loosened just a bit, and his wings cautiously folded in.  “I just needed a place to stay for a few nights... I’ll pay you for the apples.  When I have bits, I mean...”

“Hey,” Ah said, starting to feel sorry for him now—if you can believe that Ah’d feel bad for a thief—“if you need a place to stay, why not one of the motels in Ponyville?  Ah hear they have nice rooms and great breakfasts.  Well, we supply the breakfasts, but that’s how Ah know they’re great.”

“I don’t have the bits.  And I can’t stay in town.”  He was more relaxed now, nearly sitting.  We took a moment to stare each other over; he was a curious sight on a very curious night, and Ah felt Ah could coax him to tell me his story.  Just by the looks of him Ah could tell it would be a good one—Ah also had a feeling it was still bein’ written, and perhaps Ah was suddenly a character.

Oh gosh, Ah’m turnin’ into Twi’—that’s somethin’ she would have said.

“Well, in that case,” Ah said, “my friend Fluttershy would be happy to take you in, for free.  She’s got a nice cottage outside town.  Even—”

“No,” he said sharply.  “Please don’t let anypony know I’m here.  I’ll leave, just please don’t let anypony know I was here.”

My mouth sure is getting tired right now.  Ah think this is the most Ah’ve ever written at one time.  But Ah’ll keep going.  Ah feel like this needs to be recorded somewhere.

“Okay,” Ah said, deciding not to press the issue.  Ah was interested at this point.  Clearly this pony before me had his share of problems, and Ah thought maybe I could help—if Ah could just prevent him from up and flyin’ away.  “What’s your name?  Ah’m Applejack.  You’re on the Apple family farm.”  Ah tried to sound hospitable, calm him down some.

“I’m... my name is Breeze.  Well, Beaufort Breeze.  Beaufort means... it’s hard to explain.  You can look it up.  I prefer to go by just Breeze.  I’m here because I’m looking for somepony, somepony I think is in town.”

“Well, in that case, you’re in luck,” Ah told him.  “Ah have a friend of mine who knows just about everypony in all of Ponyville.  She’s sure to know who you’re lookin’ for.”

He sighed, then looked me in the eyes.  His stare was mighty heavy—like looking into two blue stones wet with dew.  “Please, don’t let anypony know I’m here.  I want to do this alone.  I never meant to meet you.  In fact, I should be going.”  With a few soft flaps of his wings he was hovering over the ground.

“Now hold on just a second!”  Ah wasn’t planning on letting something like that just fly away.  “You ate some of my apples.  You owe me.  If you can’t pay in bits, Ah’ll need some of your time.  Ah want to know who you’re looking for.  Maybe Ah can help.”

“Thanks, really.  But I—”

“You owe me.”

He sighed again, then floated down to the ground, where his sigh became a yawn.

“You need some sleep.  Ah know a traveler when Ah see one; been on more than a few journeys in my days.  Ah’ll tell you what: you come down to the farm and Ah’ll give you a room.  No, don’t protest.  You owe me apples, and you can pay me by telling me your full story and allowing me to help you.  And Ah ain’t takin’ ‘no’ for an answer.”

For a second Ah thought he was gonna sigh again.  Instead, he locked eyes with me once more.  “Okay,” he said, though it seemed like he was talkin’ more to himself than to me.  “Okay.  Okay.”

We headed back to the barn side by side, me humming an old song my mother used to sing, him looking at the ground and not making a peep.  Then he turned to me.

“Thanks,” he said.

“It would be a dishonor to the Apple family if Ah let you spend a cold night somewhere out there.  Don’t go thanking me.  By the way... just what does Beaufort mean?”

He kept staring at me for a moment.  Then he smiled.  And it was like the clouds pulling away to reveal a sun that hadn’t shined in months.

“Like I said,” he told me, “it’s a long story.”

Wednesday, 30th of Bloom, 9:00 PM

Sorry for stoppin’ so abruptly last time.  Ah didn’t even include the apple logs.  Sorry, Twi’, but somethin’ more important came up.  This notebook has a new purpose, it seems.

My mouth was getting mighty tired after all that storytellin’, and Ah still got plenty more to go, so bear with me.

Ah just realized how silly it must seem that Ah’m writing all this in a log book for apple growin’.  But I don’t have anything else—no diary, no journal, no fancy sound recorder.  And, so far, Breeze has made me promise not to tell anypony about him, even though Ah’ve told him Ah have the best friends in all of Equestria, friends who would be supportive and kind to him.  But he refuses.  He’s a loner by name and trade, it seems.  Ah can understand that.  Ah can be a loner myself sometimes.

Either way, this little log is all Ah’ve got.  Not sure how Ah’ll hand it over to Twi’ when I’m through.  Hopefully by then Breeze will have loosened up a tad.

Ah got some more info out of him.

Ah took him back to the farm.  It was still dark and gettin’ colder, so Ah walked a little faster, speeding him along.  When the farmhouse came into view, he skidded to a stop.

“There aren’t any other ponies in there, right?”  His voice was more nervous than suspicious.

Ah told him about Granny and Mac and Applebloom.

“I really can’t go in there.  I’m here on my own.  I can’t have ponies helping me.”  He started backing up, his wings unfolding.  “Thanks, though.  You’ve been kind.”

“Hold on there, buster.  Ah said hold on.”  He stopped again, staring at me, his stone eyes torn.  “Yer staying with me.  If you insist, Ah’ll make sure none of the others find out about you.  We’ve got a stable that we don’t use this time of the year.  You’ll stay there, but Ah want to hear what’s going on.  Ah wanna know everything.”

He stared a moment longer.

“Okay,” he finally said.  “Alright.”

I led him to the stable, and he walked in without a word.

“G’night,”  Ah told him.  “Don’t do anything dumb while Ah’m away.  You still owe me a story.”

“I do,” he said with resolve, but also a kind of surprise, as if the night had grown out of his control.  Ah suppose it had.  But he was in good hooves.

Ah woke up this mornin’ wondering if it had all been a dream.  But when Ah checked, there he was, still in the stable, still sleepin’.  He might be an anxious fellow while he’s awake, but in his sleep he’s as peaceful as a cloud.  Once again, Ah hated wakin’ him, since it seemed the only time he ever looked content was in his sleep.  But Ah did, and pushed the tray of breakfast in front of him.

He jumped up, glancin’ around frantically every which way, like he didn’t know where he was or what was goin’ on.  He saw me and calmed down some; even took a sip of the apple porridge that was still steaming.

“This... this is really good,” he said.

“Only the best on the Apple family farm.”

“I guess...” He stared at me for a moment, and Ah could feel his stone blue eyes searchin’ mine, trying to decide whether he could speak, whether Ah could listen.  “I guess I owe you a story.”

Then he told me everything.  He’s still a mystery to me, but by the end of his tale, Ah suppose the tears in my eyes spoke for what Ah felt then and what Ah still feel now.

“I come from a town called Martingale.  It’s a small cloud village in the southern point of Equestria.  ‘The Cloudsdale of the South,’ they call it.  I’ve always thought that was absurd—Cloudsdale is at least three times bigger.

“Being in the clouds, the population is entirely pegasi.  If there’s one thing Martingale and Cloudsdale have in common, it’s the flight school.  I entered when I was seven, just like all the other foals.  That’s where I met Sunflare.”

He took paused, took a breath, and went on.

“Flare and I became friends immediately.  We were both in the same unit, and we were both awful at the wingstroke.”  He grinned sadly.  “We always ended up together.  As a pair in exercises, in studies, at lunch.  In our first year, we did a presentation on the coriolis effect together.  We understood each other.  The young are better at that, aren’t they?

“We shared almost every interest.  I remember late one night she came into my room through the window, jumping around and excited about something.  She had a new record.  A band we both loved.  The Wingspans, or something like that.  We listened to it for the first time together, the record player turned down low so my parents wouldn’t hear.  I had always suspected that I loved her, but that night I knew for sure.  Just staring at each other silently, probably grinning like fools, probably acting like fools.  I didn’t care.  She didn’t, either.  Because she came over the next night, too.

“The first time I ever flew, it was with Flare.  We were practically clutching each other, but somehow it was easier—like my wings were lifting her and hers were lifting me.  But that’s going back, way back.

“I remember applying for the Wonderbolt flight camp.  This was in our eighth year of school together, I think.  Needless to say, I didn’t make it.  Racing and speed aren’t in my blood, but at that age the Wonderbolts were my heroes.  I’m sure it’s the same with most young colts.  I was pretty devastated.  Flare came to me that day.

“‘Come with me,’ she said.  ‘Bring your goggles.’

“We flew together for ten or twenty minutes.  ‘Here we are,’ she said.

“It was the Wonderbolts flight camp course.  She had put it together, moved all the clouds herself, directly to scale.  Every ring, gap, hill, and obstacle.  It wasn’t perfect, but it was hers, and I couldn’t begin to imagine how long it must have taken her.  The thought that she could do that for me filled me with a happiness that a whole year at the flight camp could never have achieved.

“‘Do you like it?’ she asked me.  And I didn’t know what to say, so I just grabbed her and hugged her.

“We spent the entire day there, playfully racing each other, competing, laughing.  I will always remember that day as one of the best in my life.”

He was looking at the oakwood floor, but Ah think he was seein’ the clouds, or maybe even her.  For the first time since Ah met him, he looked happy—not just content, but genuinely happy.  It didn’t last, though.

“That was when we were young.  We’ve been together ever since.  Then, one night about two months ago, she appeared at my door.  She had been crying—I could see it in her eyes.  In fact, for the week leading up to that night, she had been quieter, reclusive, unwilling to talk.  Sometimes she’d start a sentence and never finish it.  Sometimes I would be talking to her, but she’d turn away, looking to the stars or the moon with rapt attention, like there was a message in there that she could find if only she looked hard enough.  I would ask her what was wrong, but she would only shrug it off.  So I didn’t know what to do or say.  I could only wait for her to come out, come out and tell me what was on her mind that made her not touch her food, that made her ignore my attempts to help.  On that night, she finally came to me.

“‘Breeze,’ she said...”

At this point Ah could tell he was close to losin’ his composure.  But he was lost in the memory—Ah couldn’t interrupt, or comfort him, or nothin’.  Ah could only listen, mesmerized.

“‘Breeze,’ she said, ‘what would you do if I wasn’t here tomorrow?’

“I didn’t know what to say.  ‘What do you mean?  What are you talking about?’

“She started crying again.  Hard.  But she still managed to look me in the eyes.  She told me, ‘What would you do if tomorrow I was gone?’”

Ah had no choice now but to pull him close and hold him.  He nearly shook with sobs, and I lent my shoulder for him to cry on.  He was the sorriest sight Ah ever did see—and Ah cried right along with him, because when somepony cries into your shoulder, it’s like they’re sharing the burden with you, like you can help them out by bein’ sad right there with ’em.  So we cried together for a short time.  Then he pulled away again.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “It must be hard for you to understand, if you didn’t know her.  I didn’t know how to answer her.  ‘Why are you asking me this?’ I asked her.  ‘Please, just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll help you!’

“‘Just answer,’ she said, her eyes pleading, brimming.

“‘Flare... if you weren’t here tomorrow, I don’t know what I would do.  I don’t think I could live without you.  And I mean that, I really do.  Please, just let me help you.  Please.  Tell me what’s wrong.’

“She was silent for a moment.  Then she said, ‘How long have we known each other?’

“‘Eleven years,’ I said, not even having to think.  ‘Please, just—’

“‘Do you love me?’ she asked.

“We’d said it a million times before.  In letters, after dinner, when saying goodbye.  So many times that it had almost lost meaning.  When she asked me this question on that night two months ago, though, I knew by the look in her eyes that she wasn’t talking about the kind of love that you give with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  She was talking about the kind of love that keeps ponies together for the rest of their lives, the kind that makes them weep if they ever have to say goodbye for the last time, the kind that makes them build obstacle courses out of clouds, and sneak into each others’ rooms at night and giggle while listening to music and talking in whispers.

“‘Yes,’ I told her.

“She looked at me for a long time.  I wish I knew what she was thinking.  Then...”

Ah was sure he was gonna lose it again.  But when Ah stepped closer to prop him up, he waved a hoof at me, motioning me away.

“Then she said, ‘Goodbye,’ and she walked out the door.

“I couldn’t do anything for ten seconds.  I just couldn’t move.  Then I ran after her.  But she was gone.  Flew away.  Every possible direction, even down below the clouds... she could have taken any of them.  It was night, it was dark, she was gone.  Just like that.”

Ah couldn’t say anything.  Ah wiped at my eyes, which had started fillin’ up somewhere in the middle of the story.  The way he stood before me, pouring everything out for me to hear—he felt alone.  Ah knew it, because Ah felt the same way as a filly living in Manehattan, with everything Ah knew and held dear far over the horizon, begging me to run home.  ’Cept he couldn’t run home, because his home had run from him.

“Ah’m so sorry,” Ah said.

He looked back up at me.  “Thank you,” he said.  “Thank you for listening.”

His voice was so genuine it nearly brought me to tears all over again.  “Applejack’s willing to lend an ear to anypony who has a story and a roof to anypony without one.  So, how’d you end up here?”

“Well,” he sighed, “that story is simple: I searched for her.  Everywhere.  First in Martingale.  Then in the town below.  Then a nearby village they call The Clearing, then Cloudsdale.  In Cloudsdale, I found my one and only lead: a mare said she had seen a pegasus matching Flare’s description down here in Ponyville on market day.  She wasn’t even completely sure.  She just thought she saw somepony who looked similar.”  He kicked at the ground lightly, sending up a little puff of dirt.  “It was silly to hope that she’s actually here.  But it’s all I’ve got.  It’s all I have.

“I needed someplace inconspicuous to stay.”  He blushed.  “Your farm looked like it would do the job: plenty of cover, plenty of food.”

“I see.”  Somethin’ still wasn’t makin’ sense, though.  “But why all the secrecy?” Ah asked.  “Why hide around?”

“It’s...”  He looked to the ground, starin’ at the little crater he had kicked in the dirt.  Ah waited patiently while he formed his words.  “It’s... just something I have to do alone.  I never wanted anypony to get involved.  And...  I still want to keep it that way, if I can.  I can’t tell that story again.  I just can’t do that.  And neither can you.  Please.  You can’t tell anypony about me.  Not yet.  Please.”  Though his voice was flat, like he was askin’ if Ah could loan him a shovel, his eyes peered into mine with such force and hope that Ah nearly took a step back.

“If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get,” Ah told him.  “But you need help, Breeze.  If Ah let you stay here, you have to let me help you.  Ah won’t tell anypony, yet.  But you have to let me help you.”

“Ok,” he said in that same flat voice.  But his eyes changed, just a little.

Well, that was all today.  After that, we ate lunch together, quietly.  Ah think he was all talked-out.  Ah don’t blame him.

As for me, Ah’m all written-out.  Funny how writin’ can tire you out nearly as much as apple bucking, if you do it long enough.  Ah think most of it comes from the storytellin’.  Still, Ah gotta do it—now, no matter what happens, his story is here, always.  Right next to some silly apple numbers.

Those days are over, though.  Sorry, Twi’.  Science has to take the back seat for now.  It’d be insulting to Breeze to put those numbers here after a tale like that.

Actually, before Ah end this entry, Ah should share some sentiments of mine.

Breeze is a pony who has lost somethin’ close to him.  Ah don’t now if Ah can help him, or if he’ll ever find his Flare again, or where she is or why she left.  Ah don’t know any of those things.  But Ah’m not gonna let him travel around on his lonesome anymore—that’s just asking for more pain and more loss.  He doesn’t need that.

Ah’ll do what Ah can.

Thursday, 1st of Blossom

He’s comin’ around a bit.  Opening up.  Yesterday and the night before, Ah only saw a scared and lost pegasus.  Now Ah can see who he really is.

He likes puzzles.  Good at them, too.  Ah brought him lunch today.  He was layin’ down on his stomach in the hay of the barn, pencil in mouth, Granny Smith’s crossword book open before him.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, like he done something wrong.  “I saw it laying over there in the corner, and figured nopony—”

“It’s all yours,” Ah told him.  “Granny probably doesn’t even remember she left it there.”  Ah took a peek at the little book.  He’d already completed at least half of it.  “You’re pretty good at that,” Ah told him.

“It’s a hobby of mine,” he said.  “Keeps my mind off things.  Is... is that apple pie?”

We ate together.  Ah wanted to get to know him better—learn him inside and out.  That’s the first step to help a pony: by getting to know ’em.

“So,” Ah said, “you wanted to join the Wonderbolts when you were young?”

He made a noise that was half sigh and half chuckle.  “Yeah.  Just like all young colts, I guess.  But that didn’t last long.  I found out athletics weren’t my thing.  Crosswords, drawing, music—that was more my style.  Flare and I used to do the crosswords together.  She was no good at them, but that was part of the fun.”

“Ah see,” Ah said.

We sat in silence for a moment, me chewin’ on a slice of pie, him pretending to do the crossword while he thought of her again.

Ah was waiting.  Waiting for him to mention going out to find her, to ask me where in town she might be, what Inn or bedroom she might be sleepin’ in.  Then Ah realized he didn’t want to.

He was afraid.

Afraid of lookin’ and not finding her.  Or worse: afraid of lookin’ and finding her, maybe with somepony else, maybe in danger, maybe with a different name, somethin’ crazy like that.  But it was possible.  Certainly possible.  What else could explain her fleein’ like that?  Leaving the one who loved her most in all the world?  Ah really don’t know.  But whatever it is, Breeze thinks finding her will only cause more pain.

But he can’t help it.  He has to look, and he has to find her.  Sooner or later, he’ll ask me to take him into town.  And Ah’ll do as he says.  For better or for worse, there’s not much else Ah can do except talk to him.

For a moment, Ah just looked around the barn.  It’s such a beautiful place when the mornin’ sun leaks through between the boards in the walls and ceiling, the way the hay dust glows in the air like millions of little stars, particles suspended in an ocean, makin’ you feel like you’re underwater.  It’s always been my favorite place to spend time alone when Ah have to think, and Ah ’spect it’ll do him some good, too.

“When you’re ready to look for her,” Ah said, still admirin’ the ocean around us, “just say the word and Ah’m right there with you.”

He opened his mouth to say somethin’, but closed it again while Ah walked away.  Outside the barn, Ah turned to close the door, and saw him layin’ in there, lookin’ at the ground but seeing something else.  That golden ocean surrounded him.

Friday, 2nd of Blossom

He asked me if we could head to town today.  He didn’t need to say why.

We were in the barn again, this time around noon.

“Okay,” Ah said.  “But you have to realize that we’ll probably run into my friends.  What am Ah supposed to tell them about you?”

“Well,” he said, while inspectin’ his hoof for Celestia knows what, “just tell them the truth.  You’re kind enough to let me stay in your barn for awhile, and you’re showing me around town.  They don’t need to know any more.”

Ah thought about tellin’ him that when Applejack tells the truth, she tells the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  It’s a rule Ah hardly ever break.  But when it’s for the greater good, Ah can tell a white lie, or omit a fact or two.  If he truly believed it was for the best, Ah could agree to that.  “Fine.  But you can’t hide in my barn forever.”

“I know,” he said.  “I shouldn’t be here much longer.”  He looked at me in silence for a moment.  Then: “Thanks.  For everything.  I mean it.”

“Like Ah said,” Ah told him, “it would be a disgrace to the Apple name if Ah didn’t help a pony in need.”

In town, he was a nervous wreck.  Head low, wings always unfolded just a bit, like he was preparin’ to fly off at any second.  Ah don’t know what it was.  Maybe he was afraid of seein’ her, having to deal with her so soon.  Or maybe he just felt exposed, alone in a new place.  Ah kept close by, givin’ a friendly hello to Rose and some other friends.  Little by little, he loosened up.

“So, what’s the plan, Beaufort Breeze?”  Despite his nerves, he slipped me a grin, amused by my use of his full name.

“Well, I guess... wait.  I haven’t shown you the picture yet, have I?”

“Uh, no.  What picture?”

“Look.”  He unfolded a wing, then buried his face in it.  Ah’ve always thought it looked funny when pegasi did this.  It sure is amazing how much stuff they can fit in there.  “Here,” he said, his voice muffled by the wing, and also by something held in his mouth.  “It’s her.”

He pulled his head out.  In his mouth he grasped a photograph.  She looked exactly as Ah had imagined—sky-blue, with a smooth sun-yellow mane that curled out at the end into bounces and swirls.  In the photo, she was sitting on the edge of a cloud.  Her mark was several yellow lines—sunrays, Ah imagine.  In the bottom corner of the photo was a blur of grey—Breeze clearly wasn’t that great of a photographer, because his hoof had gotten in the way of the lens.  It gave the photo a scrapbook quality, and somehow made the moment captured on film seem alive, like Ah could walk right into it and start up a conversation with the blue and bouncy mare smilin’ out at me.

“So that’s her, huh?”

He nodded.

“She sure is somethin’.”

“She sure is.”

We walked around town in silence for a little bit.  No sign of Pinkie or RD or Twi’ or the others.  But his quiet was makin’ me uncomfortable.  From what I knew about Breeze, he’s only silent for two reasons: one is when he’s in a little happy moment. When that happens, you can see it in his eyes—they look far away to the past, the future forgotten.  A little grin will sneak onto his face.  In those rare moments, it’s like Ah can see the pony he was before things fell apart.

The other reason is when he’s sulkin’, feelin’ sorry for himself and for her, mopin’ about.  Ah can’t say Ah blame him.  But it doesn’t accomplish anything.  It only makes him feel worse and worse.

That’s what he was doin’ right then.

“Hey,” Ah said.  “Tell me the plan.  Let’s find this Flare of yours.”

He looked up, the clouds clearing from his face a little.  “Well,” he said, “she’s always wanted to live in Ponyville.  We used to talk about it all the time.  Something about living on the ground really got her excited.  She said she always wanted to see flowers.  Flowers in the ground.  Do they sell flowers around here?”

“The tastiest and prettiest in Equestria,” Ah told him.  “Ah know a shop.  Let’s go.”

***

Ah have to say that Ah still don’t completely understand what happened next.  Fool’s luck.  Fate, maybe.  It seemed so easy.  Like she was tryin’ to be found.  At any rate, Ah think Breeze and Ah both expected to wander around fruitlessly, lookin’ for the sake of lookin’, showin’ the photograph to ponies just to say he tried.

Ah used to think he was nervous of town becuase he was afraid of findin’ her.  Now Ah know that’s not the truth at all.  The sadness that would come over his eyes every once in awhile said more than “I miss her.”  It said, “She’s gone.  I won’t see her again.  Ever.”  He had given up hope—or was in the process of doin’ so.  He searched for the same reason firefighters search a building that is little more than charred wood and ash: because you gotta do something.You have to say you tried.  That was how he needed to cope with losin’ her: by tryin’, because what else could he do?  He would never find her, and he knew it.

The pony behind the counter of the flower shop recognized her.  “Oh, is that Flare?  Why, yes, that dashing young mare helped me out just two months ago.”

Breeze’s mouth hung open.  For a moment he just stood there, his face the definition of scrutiny, like the clerk had spoken in another language and he was tryin’ to translate slowly in his head.  In fact, his face then was the same one he wore when solving a particularly difficult crossword.

Ah have a feelin’ my expression was similar.

“You... the photo... her... she was...”

“Yes,” the clerk said, clearly confused by our reactions.  “Two months ago.  Very helpful girl.  Sorted the flowers for me when I wasn’t feeling well, kept logs of sales and shipments.  She wouldn’t even accept payment, no matter how much I insisted.  Didn’t have a place to stay, so I offered her my guest room.  Dashing girl, dashing girl.”

Breeze was in no condition to talk.  His mouth hung open, then closed again while he made a funny sound in his throat, then opened again.  Ah spoke for him.  “You’re... you’re sayin’ she was here?The mare in the photo?  The same one?”

“Undoubtedly,” the pony said.  “Such a fine girl.  Maybe a bit too skinny.  But incredibly helpful, and very good at dealing with customers.  Everypony liked her.  I wish she had stayed for more than a few days.  Is she a friend of yours?”

Breeze ignored the question.  “Where is she?  Is she still here?  Where did she go?”  He was breathin’ heavy, and the clerk stepped back a bit from the unexpected outburst.

“Hey, calm down!  I don’t know.  She left.  Two months ago.  She’s not in trouble, is she?  Dashing girl.”  He nervously pushed his spectacles back up his nose.

Breeze took a deep breath, closed his eyes, held it, then let it go.  Ah was about to talk for him again, but then he finally spoke, his voice calm and collected.  Ah could tell that was a struggle, though.  “Did she say where she went?  Did she say where she came from, or mention anything about her home?”

A little twinkle of knowing came into the clerk’s eyes.  “No, not quite.  I had suspected she was a runaway—she wouldn’t talk about her home, she carried photographs, she didn’t know her way around town.  I guess this confirms it.  Celestia knows I’ve been there, back when I was her age.”

“She carried photographs?” Breeze asked.  For the first time since Ah met him, he spoke with pure and simple hope.  It was music to my ears.

“Yes.  That’s what running away does to you—makes you sentimental.  Can’t run away without leaving something behind.  For me, it was Chloe.”  Ah swear Ah saw a tiny tear form at the corner of his eye.  “Finest hound dog you’ve ever met.  A real friend.  But she couldn’t come with.  I had to do it alone.  That’s the young, flawed runaway spirit for you.  And before you ask: no.  Flare never let me see the photos.”

Breeze closed his mouth.  ’Parrantly, he was gonna ask.  Then he opened it again.  “Please,” he said.  “Tell me everything you know about her.  I need to find her.”

The clerk sighed.  “Not much to say.  There are two types of runaways: those that need running away, and those that think they need running away.  The former is very rare.  As for Flare... I couldn’t tell which she was.  But whichever it was, it was killing her.  Crying in her room at night.  I tried to talk to her, I really did.  But she wouldn’t open up.  Then, on a day we were both moving boxes from storage, I told her of my experience running away from home.  How I regretted it only days later, but was too ashamed to go back, to face my parents after the things I had said and the way I had acted.  And how I finally got the nerve to write them a letter years later, telling them how sorry I was, how I would come visit them, make things right again.  And how I received a letter a few days later from the new owners of the house, who said that my parents had moved out a year ago, without saying where they were going or why.”

Ah looked over and saw that Breeze was listening rapt attention, absorbing every detail, as if this clerk’s tale was Flare’s tale, too.

“I told her those things, and the whole time she listened, looking at the floor.  Such a dashing girl.  Somepony sure is missing her right now.  And she’s missing him right back.”  Ah could see what he was doin’, but Breeze was so enthralled by this new perspective that the clerk’s words worked on him like they would on a child.  It was comical, almost.

“That’s me she’s missing!”  He spun to face me, putting his hooves on my shoulder and pulling me close.  “She must still want me!”Now he spun to the clerk.  “But then where is she?”

“Son,” he said, “dealing with her is a balancing act.  Push too hard and it all topples over.  I did what I could to turn her back.  If I’d done any more, she’d only have gone forward farther and faster.  The young are so eager to do whatever they’re told not to do.  I could only share with her what I had done and felt at her age and hope she would learn from my mistakes.  Nothing more.”

“So she left?” Ah asked.

“Yes.  The night after I tried to tell her that running away isn’t the solution.  I guess I pushed too hard.”

“Please, tell me you know where she went,” Breeze begged.  Ah hated seein’ him like that—practically on his knees.

“I’m sorry,” the clerk said, and from his voice Ah could tell he truly was.  “She left in the night.  Not even a word of goodbye.  There one day, gone the next.  Something must have been paining her, because that’s unlike her—leaving without a goodbye, I mean.”  He sighed.  “Such a sweet girl.  She didn’t speak much, but when she did she only had kind things to say—mostly to customers.”

“Thanks,” Ah told the stallion.

“But—wait—what—” Breeze sputtered.

“C’mon, Breeze.  We won’t get anythin’ more here.  ’Sides, Ah know where to go next.  Thanks very kindly, Mr...”

“Please, call me Sepal.  It was no problem at all.  I do hope you find her.”

As Ah pulled Breeze out the door, Ah could hear Sepal talkin’ to himself.  “Such a dashing girl...”

“So where are we going now?” Breeze asked me as we headed down the road.  He was collected, he was together, and the unbearable eagerness was gone from his voice.  Ah was very glad.  We were both still a little dazzled from the conversation with that Sepal fella—Ah mean, goodness, she was here somewhere!  If that got me excited, Ah can’t imagine how he must have been feelin’.  But he kept it together.  Granny always said that in times of excitement, the first thing to go is the part of your head that stays calm and thinks reasonably.  ’A course, she also says that it’s bad luck to keep an odd number of chickens.

Ah turned to face Breeze.  He looked back with eagerness, yes, but also with understanding and patience.  “Well, according to that clerk, our Flare was in town ’bout two months ago.  Ah just happen to know a pony who knows everypony in town.  Ah even mentioned her to you, Ah think.  If Flare was ever here, my friend is sure to know her name, her favorite color, and her favorite flavor of cake.”

“This friend of yours sounds like an interesting pony.”

“Ha.  You could say that.”

***

The trickiest thing about keepin’ these logs is that Ah have to remember very clearly what happened at one point in time while somethin’ else is happenin’ at the same time Ah’m writin’ about the first thing.

That must be confusin’.  Sorry.  But that’s how it is.

For instance, right now I’m in a tent a day’s hike east of Ponyville.  Breeze is snorin’ to my right.  Everythin’ Ah just wrote happened yesterday.  Going into town, meetin’ the clerk, all that.  Ah started writin’ about it the night after it happened, and Ah only just finished it now.  Talk about confusin’.

Tell you what: Ah’m gonna get some shuteye.  Then Ah’ll wake up before dawn, just like always.  Breeze’ll still be asleep.  Ah’ll prepare breakfast for us both, then get to explainin’ how we both ended up here.  One sitting.  Ah’ll write out the whole thing.  Promise.

It’s cold in this tent.

But this is actually happenin’.  Ah mean, Ah really do believe that by the end of tomorrow, we’ll find her.

So much has happened between then and now.  Breeze found hope in the flower clerk’s words, then had it stolen away again from a silly little piece of paper, then had it restored once more with the help of Twilight.  What a jumble of a week this has been.

But we’re getting closer.  She’s somewhere down this little path, just around each bend, just beyond each hill.  Celestia knows what will happen when we find her, how she’ll react.  But we’re so close.

We’re so close.

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