Author's Note

This work was inspired by Herd Life by Gentlehoof. I highly recommend his work!

Thistles and Rocks

A small sap-brown filly sneezed in her sleep, startling herself awake. She clambered to her hooves, shaking her mane out and nickering. She looked around the clearing in confusion, not remembering lying down to sleep.

Everypony was lying down or just now waking up, even the Lead Stallion was still climbing to his hooves. Everypony seemed concerned by this, the stallions herding the mares and foals into the center of the herd.

The filly no longer had a dam to nip her flank and herd her somewhere. Her dam had been with foal, but had started bleeding strangely. She’d laid down and died two days ago. The sap-brown filly, named Thistle Burr, had continued with the herd.

The filly looked around the clearing. There didn’t seem to be any predators about, no explanation for why the entire herd had collapsed in the middle of the day.

The adults were muttering about it. Neighing and whinnying to each other as they watched the tree line. Finally the Lead Mare whinnied to get their attention.

“This land is strange, we will leave now for safer pasture!” She commanded. Nopony disagreed with the Lead Mare. Nopony ever did. They all followed her deeper into the forest, away from the strange clearing.

Thistle Burr placed herself near a mare with a colt the same age as her. Thistle didn’t want to get left behind, and the best way to not do that was by putting herself with a mare who had a foal because it would be easier to keep pace. The mare had no obligation to make sure Thistle didn’t get separated, but it was better than being alone.

Thistle hoped she grew up fast. If she was very fortunate she only had three years before her first heat and she would be a mare. A stallion would choose her then and he would make sure she didn’t get left behind when the herd moved. If she was unfortunate it might be four years, and even just one year was a long time for a filly with no dam to protect her.

They alternated between a trot and a canter, falling into a walk only when the moon was very high. Thistle was exhausted by then, having no dam to carry her when she grew tired. She hoped the Lead Mare would stop them soon because she didn’t think she could keep this up for long.

Thistle looked enviously up at the colt on his dam’s back. He was asleep, snoring quietly into his mother’s mane.

So distracted by her envious thoughts, Thistle didn’t notice immediately when the herd slowed to a stop. She narrowly avoided running into the hind leg of another mare, this one with a filly on her back. Thistle took the opportunity to fall on her haunches and eat a little grass.

“We will bed here for the night!” The Lead Mare decreed. Ponies began to move off in groups. Mares arranging themselves in circles and laying their foals in the middle. Half the stallions would sleep standing, the other half would not sleep at all.

Thistle approached one of the mare circles. In the dim light she could make out a honey coat that she knew belonged to Bird Song, the nicest mare Thistle knew next to her own dam.

“Bird Song, will you let me in your circle?” She asked quietly, not wanting to wake one of the other foals.

“Of course, Thistle, go right ahead and settle in.” Bird Song smiled, lifting herself enough for Thistle to squeeze under.

“I miss Water Lily.” One of the other mares sighed, naming Thistle’s dam. “She was the best in the herd at finding water.”

That was true. Thistle’s dam had been very popular in the herd for always knowing how to find water. Thistle had often watched her. The way she found water by looking at dirt and plants was amazing. Even the Lead Mare had asked Water Lilly’s advice on where to take them whenever they moved on.

Thistle nestled in next to one of the fillies. She missed her dam too. Her dam might have known why everypony had collapsed all at once like that.

There’d been something, some kind of Light. Not the Sun. What else could make Light flash overhead like that? A huge swarm of lightning bugs?

Thistle fell asleep wondering about that, and dreamed of a trail of lightning bugs leading her to water.

The next morning she was awakened by one of the foals stepping on her to get out of the circle. Thistle grumbled but stood, making her own way out of the circle. Bird Song nursed her yearling and smiled to see Thistle awake. Thistle returned the smile easily. A smile never hurt anypony.

It would be some time yet before they continued moving. Thistle decided to graze a bit. She didn’t know if the Lead Mare would have them trotting all day again or not so she’d better eat as much as she could now.

When her stomach began to feel uncomfortably full Thistle looked around. Everypony else was either grazing or sleeping. Only the foals played, chasing each other around their watchers. It looked like they had a decent game of Wolves and Ponies going.

Thistle wanted to join in, but stopped herself. Running around would make her tired and she had nopony to carry her. She was lucky Bird Song was nice enough to let her in the circle last night, but Bird Song had her own foals to think of. Bird Song had three foals, including the yearling, the most of the herd, and she would not be able to carry Thistle on top of that.

Thistle sighed sadly, missing her dam all over again. She looked around for something else to occupy her time and saw an old mare squinting at a familiar bush. Nightshade berries, deadly poison. Couldn’t the old mare tell that?

“What are you doing?” She trotted over to ask.

“Eh’m dinkin’ o’ getting’ a nibble.” The old mare continued to squint at the berries. Thistle frowned and peered closer. Nope, those were definitely nightshade.

“Those are nightshade, Elder!” She butted the old mare in the chest, gently, to drive her back. “Why not have some yummy grass?”

“Dees ol’ teed ain’t whut dey used ta be.” The old mare sniffed. “Nigh’shade yew said?”

“Yes, Elder, nightshade! My dam said they're poison.” She frowned. How would the mare eat without her teeth? She only had a few bits of bone still in her mouth. This might just be the oldest mare in the herd.

“Dank ye fer da warnin’, lil’ filly.” The old mare nuzzled her briefly. “Ges eh’ll jus’ spend all day chewin’ de grass.”

“You’re welcome, Elder.” Thistle…hesitated. This mare wouldn’t be able to keep up well if she couldn’t even see well enough to tell good food from bad, even if her legs were still strong. “Uhm, Elder?”

“Whut is it, lil’ filly? Ain’t yer dam gonna worry if’n yew dun’ get back to ‘er?” The old mare sniffed around a mouthful of grass.

“My dam died two days ago.” Thistle shuffled on her hooves. “Are you gonna be able to keep up with the herd?”

The old mare swallowed, with some difficulty, then squinted at her for a long time. Thistle tried not to fidget. It wasn’t polite to ask somepony if they could keep up with the herd. It had what her dam had called ‘implications.’

“Eh ain’t long for dis world, lil’ filly.” The old mare sighed. “I dun seen forty two winters now, I’m an ol’ nag.” She scratched her wrinkled chin.

The mare looked every one of those forty two years. She had wrinkles on her face, her coat and mane were dull with age and her mane was going white. She’d lost all but three of her teeth too, giving her a thick accent.

“Meh name’s Enduring Rock, whut’s yer’s?” She asked.

“I’m Thistle Burr.” She answered with a slight nod.

“Distle Burr, eh’ll remember dat.” Enduring nodded. “Got no dam, ye said?”

“No, Elder.” She shuffled again.

“How ol’ are ye?” She squinted, trying to make out Thistle’s features.

“I’m ten, Elder.” She answered again.

“Hmm,” The old mare licked her lips and then turned her cloudy eyes towards the rest of the herd. Even if she couldn’t make out individual ponies she could still get the gist of what was going on. Seemed after last night’s late stop the Lead Mare was giving them all more resting time than usual.

“Okay den,” The old mare nodded to herself, looking back down at the little brown blur in front of her. “Tell dis ol’ nag, Burr, whut all did yer dam haf time to teach ye?”

“What about?” Thistle cocked her head to the side. Enduring chuckled as she imagined the perplexed look the filly was probably sporting.

“’Bout darn near anyding, I reckon.” She explained. “Bout what food’s good fer eatin’ and whut ain’t, bout how ta find water, bout colts ‘n stallions and foalin’, ‘bout countin’ and findin’ yer way, ‘bout bein’ a proper mare all around.”

“Oh, uhm,” Thistle hesitated for a moment. “I know nightshade’s poison, yarrow’s good for fevers, plantain is good for bleeding wounds,” She continued listing plants and their uses.

“And my dam was really good at finding water. She taught me to watch the lay of the land, pay attention to the dirt and plants to see if there’s water nearby. And bugs too,” She hastily added. “Because some bugs stay close to water, but some of those bugs only like fetid water which will make you sick.”

Thistle’s ears pricked straight up as the Lead Mare whinnied for their attention.

“We will go to safer pastures now!” She commanded and began to lead them deeper into the forest.

“Yew stick close by me, Burr.” Enduring told her. “Eh wanna hear more on whut yer dam taught ye. Keep goin’, now.”

“Yes, Elder.” Thistle sucked in a deep breath as they began following the rest of the herd.

Thistle kept listing everything she knew, everything her dam ever taught her. Mostly it was about food and water, but she could count up to fifty too. Around noon Enduring asked her what she knew of colts, stallions, and foaling. This was harder. Thistle only knew what everypony else did, her dam had never told her anything else.

“Colts have a penis, and that’s what makes them colts and not fillies. Stallions mount a mare when she’s in heat and eleven moons later she has a foal.” She began. “Uhm, heat starts when a filly is thirteen or fourteen and then she’s a mare. And heat comes every three moons unless you’re with foal or nursing.”

“Nursing ain’t always da catch’all some mares dink it is.” Enduring commented, following close behind the mare in front of them. “It’s less likely yer heat will come if’n yer nursing, but not impossible.”

“Oohh,” Thistle was going to try very hard to remember all this. “How does a foal get outside the mare?”

“Yew know dat colts got penises? Well, whut’s a filly got?” Enduring turned it around on her.

“A, uhm,” Thistle ducked her head down to look at her underside. “I don’t know what it’s called, but its the hole that the stallion’s penis goes inside, right?”

“It’s called a vagina, Burr, and yes dat’s where da stallion sticks his penis when he mounts ye.” She nodded. “Dat’s where da foal comes out when ye go into labor.”

Thistle blinked in slack-jawed amazement. That’s where the foals came out of?

“But it’s too small! A foal wouldn’t fit!” She protested. Several nearby mares snickered and giggled, driving her to blush.

“When ye go into labor da vagina’s gonna get bigger, open itself wider for da foal. It’s a tight fit and hurts somedin’ awful, but mares a hundred years ago did it and mares a hundred years ta come are gonna do it.” Enduring assured her. “Jus’ de way life is, sometimes ye gotta hurt to get somedin’ wordwhile.”

Sometime after noon they left the forest for a large meadow. The Lead Mare bent her head to graze, signaling that they would stop here. Thistle was grateful today’s journey hadn’t been as bad as yesterday’s. She still felt tired from having to walk all day and many ponies were already settling down to rest.

“Burr, c’mere filly.” Enduring called her. “Somepony oughta teach ye whut ye gotta know, dat pony may as well be me ‘n I ain’t got a lot of time ta do it in.”

“You’re gonna teach me?” Thistle followed her. “Teach me what?”

“Whelp, today I figured ye can learn ‘bout whut eh tell ye.” Enduring’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Tonight afore sleep ye can tell me whut yew dink yew learned.”

“That’s an odd way to teach something, Elder.” Thistle wrinkled her snout. Enduring led them back towards the tree line and ran her hoof over the bark of one of the trees. She sniffed deep and nodded to herself before turning in the vague direction of the filly.

“Tell me, Burr, do yew know what kind o' tree dis is?” She tapped the bark again.

“It’s a pine tree.” She answered promptly.

“An’ whut can yew use it fer?” Enduring prompted.

“Uhm,” Thistle didn’t know any uses for it, but she didn’t want to say nothing and disappoint the old mare. “You won’t get wet if you stand under it in the rain?”

“Dat’s shelter, one use.” Enduring nodded. “Here’s a few more. Yew can eat da inner bark of dis here tree, and da pine cones and da nuts. Dey all edible. Da sap yew can put on open wounds and sores, ta keep da sickness away.”

Thistle thought she knew what the day’s lesson was. Obviously it was about the uses of plants, right? Only, the next thing Enduring jabbed with her hoof was a plant Thistle knew was poisonous.

“Uh, Elder? That’s loco weed.” She said, thinking the old mare had confused it for something else.

“Eh know, hard to ferget dat kinda smell.” The mare sniffed for emphasis. “Whut can yew use it fer?”

“It’s poisonous, you can’t use it for anything.” She protested.

“Oh, dat so?” The old mare smiled confidently and began digging up the dirt around the plant, until she’d exposed the roots. “Den how do yew explain dees roots here easing pain?”

“Easing pain?” Thistle bent down to get a better look at the white roots. “They do that? They don’t make you sick?”

“Da leaves and stem will make ye sick, but da roots ease pain somedin’ great.” To demonstrate, Enduring had Thistle separate stem from roots so she could eat them. Enduring had to chew for a long while before she could swallow it, but she claimed loco weed roots were good for old aches and pains.

“Now, whut about dis here? Can yew use dis fer anyding?” Enduring tapped the ground.

“The ground?” Thistle wondered. She poked her own hoof around in the dirt, trying to find what the elder was talking about.

“Yes, da ground. Or da dirt. Whutever yew wanna call it. How can ye use it?” Enduring challenged her.

“It’s dirt.” This was starting to feel familiar. She frowned at herself and tried to think of anything they used dirt for. “Uh, some ponies roll in dust to stay cool when there’s no water around.”

“Dat’s a good one, dust baths are good fer chokin’ out fleas too.” Enduring nodded. “But did ye know ye can use different kinds o’ dirt fer different dings?”

“There’s different kinds?” Thistle had never heard of that before.

“Mhm,” The old mare smirked. “Yer dam said she looked at da dirt ta find water, well if da dirt is soft or wet ye know its rained recently, don’t ye?” Thistle nodded.

“Whelp, dis here dirt beneath our hooves is loose, soft stuff. Dark too, even my eyes can see dat.” She broke the ground easily with her hoof. “Dark dirt’s real good, means dere’s lots dat grow here. Not jus’ grass neither, eh’m talkin’ da good stuff.”

“What’s the good stuff?” She asked.

“Oats, wheat, dings o’ dat like.” Enduring put her nose to the air, casting about like a blind pup. “Rains here prit’ regular, da ground’s soft n’ dark, means dere’s good food ta be had if’n we can find it.”

Thistle began to excitedly look around. She’d seen oats before, but had never had any. The Lead Mare and Stallion and their group had first dibs on all the best stuff, and there was never enough for everypony. She’d heard from those lucky enough to find some though that it was way better than boring old grass.

Thistle and Enduring wandered the length of the meadow, finding small copses of trees and even a small pond. Thistle wanted to tell everypony about the pond, but Enduring convinced her to wait until they’d found any oats or wheat first.

Finally, beyond a copse of trees, as far from the herd as Thistle had ever been before, they found a patch of oats.

“Oats! Oats, Elder! Look!” She cried, falling onto the patch excitedly. Oats tasted so good! Much better than grass!

“Land sakes, filly, don’ go eatin’ all o’ it.” Enduring warned her. “Gots to save some fer da rest o’ da herd. N’ eh wanna teach ye somedin ‘bout oats.”

“They’re used for food. What else can they be used for?” Thistle asked. As far as she was concerned Enduring had hung the Sun and Moon and knew everything.

“Jus’ food, far as eh know.” The mare chuckled. “But didja know oats don’ go bad?”

“Go…bad?” She repeated in confusion.

“Yew know food’s harder ta find in winter, well whut if yew had a supply o’ food, say? Somedin dat don’ rot or grow mold in da winter?” She asked.

“Whoa,” Her eyes went wide. That would be amazing, not having to be hungry all winter long. No having to dig for dried grass and roots in the snow.

“Da’s right,” Enduring nodded. “If’n yew can find somedin to put’em in yew can save dose oat grains fer a later day.”

“Something to put them in? Like what?” Like a squirrel puts nuts in a tree?

“Me, I used ta have dis gourd, hollowed n’ dried out dey can carry prit’ near anyding.” She explained. “So next let’s try n’ find some o’ dos.”

Gourds? Thistle hummed thoughtfully and looked around. She’d seen gourds before. She’d mostly seen ponies break them open to eat what was inside. She hadn’t known they could be used to carry oat grains.

They looked high and low and found a wet patch where some gourds grew. Enduring had her get as many as she could out of the hollow, then showed her how to dry them out. Some other ponies had seen them at work and came over to enjoy the insides, though Thistle was sure to keep anypony from breaking one of the gourds. She couldn’t wait to tell everypony about the water and the oats! They were going to be so pleased!

When the gourds had dried Enduring sent Thistle to get strips of hemp. When she returned clutching as much as she could in her mouth the old nag taught them all how to make string with it. Soon there was a group of seven ponies, not including Enduring and Thistle, who had gourds on strings around their neck.

“Alrigh’ now, filly, now’s da time ta get da Leads in on dis.” The elderly mare cackled. Ponies didn’t listen to old nags, not most of them anyway. Old ponies slowed down the herd and Enduring was definitely the oldest mare any of them had ever seen. It had been a long time, around when she’d outlived the last of her foals, since anypony had listened to her or tried to help.

For this reason, Enduring stepped back and allowed Thistle full run to lead the herd to the pond and the oats patch. Everypony congratulated her, said she was a chip off the old block and just like her dam. Enduring chuckled and filled her gourd with oat grains. She normally wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near the patch, her senses too dulled by age for her to easily find one and she herself too old to wrestle to the front of the herd, but Thistle insisted the old mare be allowed to take as much as she wanted and everypony was listening to Thistle.

“You have done well for the herd, young one.” Enduring pricked up her ears. That there was the voice of the Lead Mare, wasn’t it? True Blue was a good Lead, under her their herd had grown large. She was also Enduring’s great-granddaughter, though the younger mare probably didn’t even know it. Not that it mattered. By this point half the herd was related to Enduring in some fashion.

“T-Thank you, Lead Mare.” Little Burr sounded just as shy as she’d been when they’d met this morning. Burr was a good filly, kinder than most. Enduring counted herself lucky that Burr had been looking her way when she’d gotten tired of eating grass. It galled her to know how close she’d come to self-inflicted death that morning. She really was getting on in years.

Was True Blue looking at her? Enduring couldn’t rightly tell anymore, so she played it safe by wandering up to Burr for a good nuzzle. Sweet young filly, nuzzled back soft as anything.

“You are adopting her, Elder?” True Blue addressed her.

“Seems so, Lead Mare,” She nodded, getting in Burr’s scent as well as she was able. Her eyes might not be what they used to be, but there was nothing wrong with her nose.

“…Shiny Rock!” True Blue called suddenly to another mare. This one was another of Enduring’s great-granddaughters. She’d borne two foals, one was ten and one was long dead, and she had a third on the way, Enduring was sure.

“Yes, Lead Mare?” This mare was a piebald blur. Enduring missed the days when her world was sharp and clear.

“I would like you to keep an eye on Thistle Burr.” True Blue explained. “She is young yet, and may need somepony to carry her at times.”

“Of course, Lead Mare.” Shiny agreed easily.

Enduring snorted, seeing what True Blue was doing here now. Burr had gone and made herself useful to the herd, but all she had was one old nag to make sure she didn’t fall behind. True was making sure there’d be somepony to keep Burr safely with the herd when Enduring herself failed to keep up.

She was old but she wasn’t dead yet. Mare could stand to be a touch more subtle, the only one of them that didn’t understand that exchange was Burr herself.

Well, day wasn’t quite over yet. Might be able to get a few more gourds and fill those ones up with water, if they hurried. This was a good meadow, likely True would keep them here for a day or two before they moved on. Enduring had to take advantage of every moment she could to pass on what she knew to Burr.

“Alrigh’ Burr, got yer oat grains?” She asked.

“Yep!” The little filly bounced with pride. “There’s no more oats in the patch though, everypony ate it already.”

“Den we’ll jus’ save ours fer winter.” She winked at the little filly. She could see True walking back to another large group of ponies. “Let’s go get ourselves some more o’ dem gourds, Burr.”

Enduring liked having Burr around, it was like having a bit of her youth back. Ponies noticed her next to Burr, and when they saw Burr listening they listened too. Plus Burr had picked up on just how bad her sight was and took it on herself to help the old mare. One day, when they had a bit more privacy, Enduring was gonna have to ask Burr how bad off she seemed. If anypony else knew she was darn near blind it wouldn’t take long before somepony got it in their heads to run her off.

Enduring knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up with the herd forever. At the moment she was just aiming for winter, maybe even early spring. Just one more year. That should be enough time to make sure Burr knew everything she could to survive.

So every day was filled with lessons. And where Burr went there were bound to be a half dozen other ponies following, learning the same things. Enduring taught her how to find out what animals called the land home, how to notice their comings and goings, what they ate, where they denned. Enduring taught her about the plants they found, what their uses were, where they grew. Enduring showed her how to mask her scent so predators could not find her, how to hide, and, for when things went wrong, where the best places to hit were to convince the predator that she wasn’t an easy meal.

After three days True Blue declared it was time to leave. Enduring sighed, stretching out her legs for the long run ahead. Burr found her, with Shiny Rock standing nearby, wearing her three gourds. One for the oat seeds, one for water, and one for nuts, just as Enduring had taught her.

“Alrigh’ den, Burr,” Enduring smiled as they began to trot. “Now tell me what ye know of yer family line.”

“My dam was Water Lily, my sire is Oak Leaf.” She recited with ease.

“But whut ‘bout yer dam’s dam? And her sire? Yer sire’s sire? His dam?” She pressed. She could tell by how quiet the filly was that she didn’t know the answer to any of those questions.

“Family lines are importan’, Burr,” Enduring told her. “If’n yew breed to somepony too close in blood ta ye da foal will be sicker n’ weaker. Ye gotta know yer family line as far back as your grandparents, at least, so ye don’t mate yer cousin or some such.”

“Cousin? What’s a cousin?” Burr asked.

“A cousin is da foal o’ one o’ yer parent’s siblings.” She explained. “Fer instance, Water Lily was related to Peach Fuzz, he’s her full-blood brother, meaning dey had de same dam n’ sire. Peach Fuzz sired three foals so far, Prickle Patch, Little Stream, n’ Pink Peach, dat makes dem yer cousins.”

“Oohh,” Burr seemed to think about that for a few moments. “So if Oak Leaf sires foals with one of his other mares, those foals will be my brothers and sisters? But not full-blood ones?”

“Dey’ll be half-siblings.” Enduring confirmed. “Don’t go matin’ wid anypony closer in blood den cousin. Now, Oak Leaf come ta dis herd later so he ain’t got no blood relations save his own foals, so ye don’ got ta worry ‘bout dat side o’ yer family so much. I reckon ye should still ask’im if he’s got any brothers or sisters n’ whut der names are, jus’ in case we run into dat herd.”

“Ain’t no shame in being prepared,” She pointed out. “Now, as fer yer dam. Her dam was Lily Flower, she died three years back, but she also had Winter Wind n’ Honeycomb, so dey yer aunts. Any foals dey have is yer cousins.”

“Right.” Burr nodded along. “And her sire?”

“Was Sudden Flight, he dead too. Two foals by him I know of, one was yer dam and de oder is Peach Fuzz.”

Enduring continued, listing the dangers of breeding too close in blood and eventually winding down with reciting the family lines of every pony in the herd. Enduring tested Burr on that backwards and forwards till she could do it without making any mistakes.