Helping Ponies

A long time ago there was a stallion who had no mares. When the herd moved somewhere new he always walked alone. He ate alone. He slept alone. Every day he looked upon the other stallions who ran back and forth between their mares, counting their foals and ensuring no pony got left behind. He was glad he didn’t have to run around so much. With no mares following him and no foals he had no one to worry about but himself.

This was very fine to him. He continued on this way for a long time. Sometimes a mare would approach him, flicking her tail, but he always turned them away.

“I am only responsible for myself.” He’d say with pride. Rejected, the mares would find other stallions and the herd would continue.

One day, a young mare with a foal laid down for a nap. When she awoke, she found that her foal had already woken up and wandered off. In a panic, she reared and begged the herd to help her search. Her stallion and fellow mares began looking behind every tree and rock, peering through every bush.

The stallion who stood alone watched all this and scoffed. This was why he didn’t want any mares. If he had a mare he’d have to help her keep track of her foals and he didn’t want to search the jungle for a stupid foal.

The distressed dam noticed him standing apart from everypony else and approached him.

“Please, friend Stallion, won’t you help me find my foal? Even one more pair of eyes may make all the difference!” She pleaded with him.

“It is not my foal that was lost. I see no point in helping you.” He turned away with a huff and continued eating his grass.

The foal was never found and many days passed. The dam did not forget his cruel words and told the other mares of how cold he’d been. The stallion stopped getting mares offering to follow him, but he did not care. This was exactly what he wanted.

More days passed, and the stallion continued with the herd. One day, as they trotted, he noticed an elderly mare falling behind. He did not care of course, because she was not his mare. Besides, she was past foaling age so no pony would care about her. So though he saw her falling further and further behind, he said nothing.

Later that afternoon, when the herd stopped to rest, a mare looked up and noticed that her dam was missing. Alarmed, she galloped through the herd, asking ponies if they’d seen her. The nag was old, you see, but she was wise and had many living foals still. They began asking every pony in the herd if they’d seen her and when.

“Please, friend Stallion, have you seen our dam? She is old and slowing with age, but much loved by us.” One of the mares asked the stallion.

“I did see a nag by that description.” He nodded, swallowing a mouthful of flowers. “Several hours ago I noticed her falling behind.”

“And you said nothing?” The mare gasped in shock. “Why did you not tell somepony that she needed help?”

“She was not my concern. I am only responsible for myself.” He answered. The mare turned away in disgust. Several of them ran back along the path, hoping to find the old nag, but had to return in failure.

Days passed, and the stallion continued walking alone. Seasons changed, summer to fall, fall to winter, and winter to spring. With spring came new foals. The young stallion saw all this and felt nothing for they were not his mares and not his foals.

One night, while the new dams recovered, a ghastly howl was heard. The herd rallied together, quickly trying to organize. But the wolves were already upon them, terrifying mare circles and snapping at vulnerable flesh.

The stallion saw this and whinnied bravely. He did not fear wolves. He struck out at any that neared him, putting his back to a large boulder so they could not surround him. He saw ponies struggling to protect themselves and their foals, but he did not care. He had his own fight to win and besides, they weren’t his responsibility.

When the sun rose the wolves fled, glutted by tender young flesh. The stallion, though wounded, had survived and was proud of himself. He noticed a passing stallion and hailed them.

“Ho, fellow Stallion, look and see what victory I have won. Two wolves I slew this past night! They feared me too greatly to attack after that!” He boasted.

The other stallion looked down at the corpses cooling at his hooves and scowled at the young stallion.

“A mighty fighter you are, fellow Stallion, yet I did not see you attempting to protect the mares and foals.” He commented.

“I do not have any mares or foals to worry over. I am responsible for only myself.” He grinned, still excited by his victory. He was surprised when the other stallion stomped his hooves fiercely.

“Before last night I had two mares and three foals, and now they are all dead but one! One foal I could protect! Five wolves I slew last night but only one life did I save!” The other stallion growled. “And I might have saved more if a mighty fighter such as yourself had helped!”

The young stallion couldn’t think of anything to say to this. He did not feel like he should have helped. They were not his mares and foals, so he didn’t have to, right?

Before long the whole herd knew his name and avoided him. The young stallion walked alone, as he always had, but noticed this time that there was no one willing to make conversation with him. Ponies avoided him, leaving the places where he lingered. It was as if he had some plague and they were wary of catching it.

Days passed, seasons changed, and ponies came and went. Most would be warned about the selfish stallion, but not all. The stallion grew into himself, and one day his eyes fell upon a mare from another herd. She was beautiful and bright and soon he pursued her. For the first time in his life he wanted to be responsible for somepony.

So they followed each other and, when her heat came, they made a foal together. The stallion was the happiest he’d ever been with his new friend to talk to. He finally understood why other stallions had always been so keen on having mares and foals.

Then, one day, he looked up during their daily trek and noticed his mare was not at his side. His foal was, a young colt who was bright and sure to become as mighty a fighter as himself. He looked over the heads of the other ponies and called her name, but could not find her.

Placing his colt upon his back he began to search, asking ponies if they’d seen her.

“We are not responsible for her.” They’d answer, over and over again. By now frantic, the stallion raced back the way they’d came, calling desperately for his mare.

Only silence and his colt’s fearful whimpers answered him.

He tried to rouse his herd into searching, but again and again he received the same answer.

“We are not responsible for her.”

Losing hope, he remembered all the times he’d refused to aid his herdmates in their endeavors. He recalled the lost foal, the aging nag, the hungry wolves, and felt sick. He now knew how those ponies had felt when he turned them away.

Desperate to make right some of his wrong, the stallion raised his colt alone. Together they left the herd for a new one, and another one, and another one. Everywhere they went, he’d ask ponies if they’d seen his mare. The answer was never good, but where ponies didn’t know his name at least they weren’t cruel.

He never gave up hope of seeing her again, but many years passed. His colt was thirteen, almost a stallion now, and the stallion taught his colt everything he would need to know. How to fight, what to eat, and, most importantly, how to be kind. How to be faithful. How to be loyal. How to be a good stallion.

Finally came the day when his colt began the ritual fight to prove himself a stallion. The stallion was proud at the strength of his son’s hooves and his cleverness. He finally announced the colt’s training complete and declared him a fellow stallion to the world.

While his son went with his friends to celebrate this momentous day, the stallion walked alone. He left the company of the herd and wandered to a clearing in the forest. There he sighed deeply, staring up into the stars.

“For ten years I have searched for you. I failed you when you needed me, but I have not failed our foal. He is a stallion now, a better one than I was at his age.” The stallion confessed his past sins to the stars. He told the story of the lost foal and the nag and the wolves. He apologized to the spirit of his mare for the wrongs he’d done that sealed her fate.

“Perhaps not sealed as tightly as you think.” With a gasp he whirled around, for he knew that honeyed voice. He knew the mare who approached him, no older than the day she’d vanished. Her beauty was as real as he remembered, but somehow it was even more so. Her mane and tail flowed on an unfelt breeze. Her eyes twinkled like the stars. From her lips fell words dipped in sweet nectar.

He knew then that she was no mortal mare. Still, he loved her, and fell upon her in a warm embrace.

“Mother Earth saw the path you walked on and sent me to teach you a lesson. You were strong and brave, but you did not care for the hearts of your fellow ponies.” She told him sadly. “But you have learned much in the time I was away. You have raised our foal well.”

“Mother Earth tells me he will be safe now, and find many mares and sire many foals.” She revealed to him. “Your work on this world is done. Come away with me now, my Stallion. You have earned your rest.”

So the stallion who walked alone followed his mare. His son never saw him again, but something within told him all was well and his sire was happy. And just as Mother Earth said, the young stallion found many mares and sired many foals, never forgetting the lessons his sire imparted to him.

Enduring sighed at the end of the story. The part with the nag always got her these days, but there wasn’t anything better than a happy ending. It was too dark to see of course, but she felt when Light laid down her head to sleep. Morning and Camellia were already snoring, and Mountain and Hornet weren’t far behind.

Burr snuggled deeper into Enduring’s side. The old nag coughed as quietly as she could manage. The chill in her bones had moved in to stay, even with the warm bodies piled up on every side.

But on top of the cough was a weakness in her body. She’d lived a long time, and never had her body failed her like this. Getting up was such a struggle now and her joints screamed for relief. She ate loco-root every day, but their supply was running low and it wasn’t helping as it used to. She hardly left the hut anymore, only to relieve herself these days.

She’d known when she took Burr on that she didn’t have long left to live. The Endless Pasture was calling her, a little louder each day. She’d known winter might be her end, though she’d hoped for spring.

She still hoped for it. She no longer feared that Burr might die without her guidance. It hadn’t taken more than a month or two for her to realize that filly was unstoppable. Enduring wasn’t so sure about this Blessed business, but she didn’t fear for Burr’s fate anymore.

She nuzzled the fillies at her sides, remembering other foals who’d once slept there. There was her first, little Pebble. Enduring had loved her from the very first breath. And then had come Stone Steps, and Honey Suckle, and sweet Berry Patch. All told, eight foals had slept at her side over the course of her life, ten including Burr and Light.

And then there’d been grandfoals, so many wondrous little faces experiencing the world for the first time. Fillies and colts to make the fussiest mare proud. Oh, that fever had gone through and stolen more than half her loved ones, including six of her grandfoals, but life had gone on. Honey Suckle had left to join another herd and Pebble had fallen and broken her neck. Stone Steps died while fighting five wolves to save two other ponies.

Enduring counted the living and dead. Twenty ponies in the herd were related to her, though if more than five knew that she’d eat her basket. Blackberry and Blueberry were due to deliver soon, weren’t they? That’d make twenty-two.

“Enduring?” Burr’s whisper made her jump out of her skin.

“Whut is it, Burr?” She murmured back.

“You’re shivering.” The filly pointed out. She tried to stretch her little body more to cover more of Enduring’s side. Such a sweet filly.

“I’m old, it’s cold, course I’m gonna shiver.” She chuckled, nuzzling her. “Don’t you pay no mind. It’ll be mornin’ before long. Best sleep now before dose Berry sisters start foaling.”

Burr grumbled at the reminder, burying her head in her hooves. She didn’t move away though, providing her own warmth for Enduring to leach off of.
Enduring hoped she could make it to spring.

Thistle wished she was home right now. Enduring had to have something to do with this. The Sun hadn’t even peaked over the horizon before Blackberry stumbled into their door babbling about Blue’s water breaking. Now she was in the Berry sisters’ hut, cold and hungry, waiting for the new foal to get a move on.

“Should it be taking so long?” Black fretted at her sister’s brow.

“This is completely normal. She’s progressing nicely.” Thistle repeated for the sixth time. There wasn’t any blood, her dilation was increasing steadily, all signs pointed to a good birth. The loco-roots must’ve been taking effect too, because Blue didn’t seem to be in as much pain.

“Never again. Never again! Foals are terrible!” Of course, that didn’t mean Blue wasn’t in any pain.

“Mares did this a hundred years ago and they’ll do it a hundred years from now.” Thistle assured her. “You’re doing fine, just keep breathing. Do you want some water?”

“Yes, please! UUUGGGH!” Another contraction hit. Thistle pulled the water basket close so Blue could sip from it. They didn’t need a repeat of the time she’d nearly drowned herself from the pain.

This was getting to be a routine. Foaling was still a nerve wracking experience, but it was also a lot of waiting.

Still, this would be the first foal born in True Village. That was cause for celebration. A lot of ponies were excited about it, oddly.

“Hhsssssss!” Her ears pricked forward. That didn’t sound like Blueberry. She looked up and met Blackberry’s eyes.

“J-Just…uh…sympathy pains, I’m sure. Nothing to worry about, Healer Burr!” Blackberry gave a sickly smile.

Thistle didn’t buy it for a second!

Of course, a blizzard had to hit before Blackberry’s foal was ready to come out. At least Blueberry’s delivery was over. One healthy colt, with all four legs and no cleft lip. He was a perfectly normal orange with green mane. His name was Carrot Top.

Blackberry’s filly was deep, almond brown with a white mane. Her name was Sapling.

Thistle smiled at the foals sleeping between their dams, even as she cursed the weather. She wasn’t dumb enough to go trekking outside in these conditions, but she wanted to be home with her family right now. Blizzards could last days! She wanted to curl up with Enduring and Light and listen to stories. She’d even take being teased by Morning and Mountain!

She shivered where she lay. There wasn’t much in the food baskets, so they’d probably have to eat the beds sooner or later. Thistle wasn’t sure how much of a difference it would make. She felt like she’d never be warm again. Those long ago days by the river felt like a fairy tale.

The blizzard lasted for two days, and they did eat one of the beds. It was marginally warmer next to Blackberry, but Thistle hadn’t slept much regardless. She barely managed to shuffle home through the snow before collapsing next to Enduring. It didn’t matter to her that it was no warmer, it still felt good to be home.

After catching up on her sleep, Thistle was forced to resume her usual routine. She thought of a list of ponies she needed to see and checked her baskets. She made a note to go foraging if she had time later. As it was, she bid her family good day and walked in the direction of Soft Touch’s hut.

Soft Touch was abrasive at the best of times. One day after a two-day blizzard was not the best of times. She opened the door only just enough to snag Thistle by the mane and drag her through, slamming it shut behind her.

“We’re both fine, we have enough to eat, he slipped on some ice and scraped his fetlock just before the blizzard hit but he’s fine.” She reported in a rush.

“Good to hear. Do you want me to take a look at it?” Thistle carefully climbed back to her hooves. Soft Touch, like Thistle’s family, was a firm believer in winter foraging and thus had a larger supply of straw and roots.

“Hi, Healer!” Pine Needle, the four year old colt, was much happier than the first time she’d met him. He was maybe a little small for his age and he didn’t talk much. Well, not to anyone who wasn’t his sister anyway. Thistle could get a sentence or two out of him each visit but he didn’t babble like any other young foal did.

“Hi, Pine Needle.” She briefly nuzzled him, then brought his fetlock closer so she could see it better. “Yowch, that must’ve hurt, huh?”

“No!” He denied cheerfully.

“Wow, really? If I hurt my leg like this I would’ve been crying.” She giggled, running her hoof over it. Soft Touch had been keeping it clean.

Pine Needle giggled, apparently done with verbal interaction for the day. Thistle told him he was very brave for letting her poke at his wound, then gave him a slice of dried apple for being so good for her. She’d decided that the foals who didn’t scream and bite and kick her would be getting dried fruit as rewards. Word had spread like wildfire and made her job a lot easier.

“Anything you two need before I get going?” She asked Soft Touch.

“Can you get Bright Finish off my tail? He keeps nipping my flank about moving in with him and the other foals.” She complained. “I’m practically a mare and we’re doing fine, so he can just lay off.”

“I can tell him you’re doing fine, but I can’t keep him from nipping your flank about it.” They had this talk every time Thistle visited them. She could understand Bright Finish wanted to make sure that they were taken care of, but it wasn’t like they lived all that far apart anyway.

“Ugh,” She flattened her ears in irritation. “Well, whatever. Don’t let so much of the cold in on your way out.”

“Have a nice day!” Thistle stood outside a moment later and reflected on how refreshing such interaction could be. One day she hoped that Soft Touch would call her Thistle.

But that day was a long way off. It had been a while since she’d gathered any edible bark. She had a mental list of places with winter food to visit. She kept hoping she’d find another willow tree to take bark from because she didn’t want to kill the one near the lake.

Shivering against the cold, Thistle set off towards the western forest.