Thistle rested by the shores of Lake Hope. The season’s Stallion Fights had taken place four days ago. Her first heat had ended eight days ago. They were mares and stallions of the herd.

The wind whistled through the willow’s branches. It was easy to imagine it was the breath of Mother Earth. Sometimes Thistle could swear she heard a whisper that wasn’t there.

She shook her head. Too many ponies depended on her for Thistle to be listening to voices that didn’t exist. A moment now and then to take in the peace and tranquility was fine, but she had responsibilities to take care of.

Up on her hooves, she turned her eyes first to Gem Mountain and then to the village. They’d expanded a bit, adding more and bigger houses as Pink Peach learned to construct them. The Lead Mare’s home had an underground food storage place that Pink called a cellar. Thistle’s family had been kicked out of their own hut at first light so Pink could begin putting in a cellar for their home too.

She had plenty of herbs and the garden didn’t need weeding. Nopony was hurt or sick today, not that she’d heard at any rate. It looked like she had some free time today.

Thistle started walking down the well-worn path through the village. Ponies were tending their own gardens and going about their chores. One young mare was arguing with her groupmate, up until Thistle walked into view anyway. Both mares plastered on false smiles and waved her on.

Maybe Pink would know what they were arguing about. Those two were Petal and Rainfall, each two years older than Thistle. Rainfall was due to deliver in a moon. Petal in three.

“Healer Burr, hey, Healer Burr!” A gaggle of foals galloped over when they saw her. “What’s this? Is it medicine?” The filly in the middle held up a bouquet of dandelions.

“Not medicine, Flower Field. In fact, eating too many of those will give you an upset stomach.” She answered for them. The foals stared at the flowers in awe before dropping them and running off to find something else. Thistle watched them go before picking up the abandoned blooms. Little white puffs flew off at the next breeze, off to grow more of their kind.

“Ho, Healer! Out and about, are ya?” An older mare greeted her. The three year old filly with her squealed with glee at seeing her, trotting forward and bumping into Thistle’s front legs.

“Good morning, Thistle Weed.” She laughed, nuzzling the filly in greeting. Thistle Weed was one of the first foals she’d ever delivered, ages ago at that riverside.

A walk through the village was never just a walk through the village anymore. Older ponies waved and made small talk and foals ran up asking for games. A few had more serious concerns. One mare was desperate for a chance to bear a foal, but so far nothing had come of it.

“Have you been eating any wild carrots? Or Blue cohosh?” She asked as they stepped inside Pollen Dust’s hut.

“I don’t know what blue cohosh is, but I eat wild carrots all the time! I love them!” Pollen confirmed.

“Well, that might be the problem.” Thistle chuckled. “Eating wild carrots prevents pregnancy. If you cut those out of your diet from now until your next heat, I’m sure you’ll be able to conceive.”

“I didn’t know they did that!” Pollen gaped. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Healer! I was so afraid I was barren!”

“Well, with all that know-how I’m sure you won’t have any issues when its your time, eh Healer?” Her stallion, Riverbank, joked.

“My time, right.” She tensed up. Quickly, she said her goodbyes and went back outside.

Her time. Her next heat, when everypony would expect her to choose a stallion to follow.

She had perhaps somewhere between three and five months before her second heat would arrive. Outside it seemed most ponies had either gone to the fields or found something else to occupy themselves with, so she took a moment to lean against somepony’s wall.

Enduring had said it was better for a mare to wait until she was fifteen before trying for a foal. A mare would be almost full grown by then, and there’d be less risk for dam and foal both. Thistle had seen a few bad births and the overwhelming majority of those had come from young mares.

Pushing off the wall, Thistle oriented herself towards the Food Storage hut. Today it was Rockslide standing guard at the door, meaning Bright Finish would be coordinating the patrols around the valley.

“Lead Stallion,” She nodded to him politely as she stepped inside.

“Healer,” He grunted in return.

Inside the air was cold, no sunlight was allowed in to warm up the place, even though Pink Peach had perfected windows two years ago. The cold kept things from rotting when they weren’t preserved. At least according to Apple Blossom.

“Healer Burr, I hardly think your family requires extra food.” Shiny Rock nodded to her. Big lidded pots, invented by Clay Hooves, were sat side by side on the bark fiber mats woven by Summer Showers.

“Indeed we do not.” She confirmed. “I wanted to ask how well the pots are holding up.”

“Grain doesn’t leak from them, water doesn’t rot them, and it takes a blow of some force in order to break them.” Shiny reported, looking down into the biggest pot. “They also make good places for foal naps.”

“They do?” Curious, Thistle stepped forward. She clapped her hoof over her mouth to keep from snorting and waking the filly curled up inside.

“Water Shimmer loves them.” Shiny sighed fondly. “Look at her, three years old and sleeping without a care in the world.”

“And the mats?” Thistle kept her voice down now that she knew Shimmer was sleeping nearby.

“A bit coarse against the fur, so I’m still not sure of her idea of wearing them in winter.” She lifted up a free mat. “But they do make it easier to keep dirt out of the food. How did you say she made this?”

“Back when Pink Peach taught her how to weave baskets, Summer Showers got the idea of weaving something for the floor of her hut because Mercy and Peace were getting that bad cough from the dust.” She started explaining. “So she tried making a flat basket out of straw. It didn’t work so well because there needed to be space for the firepit. Then Starlight figured out how to use bark fiber to make a string that was finer than hemp and that led to Summer wanting to try weaving with that.”

“But it was too fine for her hooves to manipulate it easily. I don’t know how but that somehow led to her inventing the loom.” Four sticks hammered into the ground in a square shape. The top two sticks then had two longer sticks tied to them, one high and one low. The two bottom sticks also got one long stick tied to them at the same height as the lower long stick. Then the new string was tied at the bottom long stick and stretched to the upper long stick. Ten lengths of string were tied at equal distances along the long sticks. Then another long stick had ten more strings tied to it, with those ends being tied to the long stick at the bottom again. So the bottom long stick had twenty strings, the free stick had ten, and the upper stick had ten. The free stick could move up and down between the two long sticks at the top. Then Summer Showers moved the spindle made by Starlight through all the tied up strings, weaving them through. She bunched them up tight at the bottom, lowered the free stick, and wove the string through again for the next line.

She could sit and do this for hours. Unless it was raining or she was needed elsewhere she was always sitting in front of her family’s hut, minding the twins and her baby sister, weaving these mats. She could make a mat the perfect size for a pony to sleep on in about two days.

And, of course, Thistle Burr had received one as soon as Summer had perfected the process.

“Such talented ponies we have.” Shiny hummed, standing up now to put the mat aside. She began carefully transferring the last of last year’s oat grains into one of the pots. The rest of the last year’s harvest had already been planted.

Thistle found herself looking at Shiny’s magic mark. Oat grains, nine of them neatly lined up in rows of three. During that first harvest there had been some confusion on organizing the vast assortment of food they found themselves with. Shiny Rock had found her one true calling.

Ponies with magic marks outnumbered those without. Not counting foals younger than ten, three quarters of the herd now had a magic mark. Marsh Steps had a sprout growing from a little hill of dirt. Holly Berry had a heart with a sleeping foal curled inside. Summer Showers had a basket. Hornet had a wooden shield. Starlight had a spindle.

It was mostly the oldest ponies who didn’t have marks now. They’d come so far since first settling in this valley.

“Well, I’m glad the pots and mats are working out so far.” Thistle climbed to her hooves. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

“Good day to you, Healer.” Shiny Rock waved her away without looking.

Outside again, it was almost midmorning and last night’s chill had finally gone. She nodded again politely to Rockslide as she left. Nopony else demanded her attention so she was able to head to the fields unimpeded.

Almost everypony had a mark now. How she’d wished for that in those early days. Nopony still claimed she bestowed the marks personally but there were still whispers of Blessed running around.

She healed the herd through sickness and injury and their numbers had grown. The herd was now eighty strong with the most recent births. They’d have been at almost ninety if the winter’s flu hadn’t stolen eight ponies.

Thistle tried not to think of the ponies she couldn’t save. One had been a nag almost as old as Enduring. Losing ponies in winter was the worst.

Ponies were walking through the fields, weeding and watering them under Marsh Steps’ watchful eye. Even with little Lily Pad resting atop her back she was able to lead the other farming ponies through what needed to be done.

Fields of food. So much food they hadn’t even gotten through all the winter’s stores! Nopony went to sleep hungry anymore. Dams did not have to decide which foal to feed anymore. Ponies weren’t left behind as they collapsed from hunger and exhaustion.

The long days of endless travels felt like a bad dream now. The youngest ponies didn’t even remember it.

“Quite inspiring, isn’t it?” The voice behind her nearly had Thistle jumping out of her skin. Woodpecker came and sat down beside her.

“Yes.” She calmed herself. Woodpecker wasn’t so bad a stallion, and he’d made his interests clear. Part of Thistle had been expecting him to show up at some point during her heat. He hadn’t though. This was the first time they’d spoken since she blossomed as a mare.

“You’re a mare now. Tell me, Thistle Burr, what sort of stallions catch your eye?” He faced her directly.

Thistle blushed. Of course she blushed. She’d only spent a week being teased relentlessly by her sister and cousins! And Woodpecker’s name had come up more than once!

“I haven’t thought about it.” She answered honestly. Well, she’d tried not thinking about it.

Woodpecker didn’t look like he believed her.

“If I might state my case for future Lead Stallion?” He offered. “Even against Silent Current, I win more often than I lose. Only Bright Finish and Rockslide beat me, and Rockslide is getting slow in his old age.”

“Twenty nine isn’t that old.” Thistle protested. Oldest stallion in the herd, yes, but not old.

“I know all the patrol routes and have personally killed eight wolves, one bear, and one timberwolf.” She winced at the mention of the monster. Those things had appeared during their second year, in fall just before harvest. Wooden wolves with green light shining from the cracks in their bark. The only way to kill them was to either burn them or shatter the green heart in their chests.

“I know and am allied with every stallion in the herd and no few of the mares. I’ve sat in on every trial since the village founding. I can recite all Herd Laws on demand. My sister is your right hoof mare. I swear to never raise angry hoof to you or any foals I sire.” He promised. “Are there any qualifications I might have missed?”

“I think that’s everything, Woodpecker.” Thistle withheld a sigh. “I’ll give you my answer tomorrow morning, alright?”

“Then, until tomorrow, Thistle Burr.” He smiled, leaning forward just enough to briefly nuzzle her cheek and send her face flaming again.

As he walked away Thistle tried very hard to dispel her blush.

Woodpecker would be a good choice. Silent Current was popular, but mute. A Lead Stallion needed to be able to speak to his herd. Besides those two the only other standout was Pucker Thorn.

“Maybe Pink will be finished with my house.” She muttered, picking herself up.

Pucker and Light were out front. Pucker was training himself with a new weapon he’d made. He called it a sling and it allowed him to throw stones at distant targets with enough force to kill small animals. The first few days after planting he’d spent all his time in the fields using it on birds.

“Hey, Light, he been at this long?” Thistle came up and nuzzled her sister.

“An hour or two.” Light answered vaguely. “I think he’s getting frustrated.”

“Do you know where everypony else is?” She asked curiously.

“Morning is out on patrol, Hornet is gathering fresh shoots, which leaves Mountain watching all the foals.” Light hummed thoughtfully. “I think she may have taken them to the fruit orchard.”

“Did Pink say when she’d be done with the cellar?” She sat down to wait for Pucker.

“She said she’d be done before noon, so soon probably.” Light smiled.

Light was still a year off from being a mare, and still smaller than Thistle. She was quickly turning from a cute filly into a beautiful mare. Her coat was never dirty, her mane was never tangled, and she had a manner of speaking that soothed the fussiest foal.

Thistle wasn’t built for beauty. She was a little too big, a little too solid. Her coat and mane were close to the same shade, and her mane and tail were braided with medicines rather than flowers. When she looked in her reflection by the lake it made her seem like a ropey bird’s nest. She had nice eyes and a shapely flank, but nopony would ever call her delicate.

Pucker grumbled to himself as he chose another pebble from the dwindling pile beside him. He eyed it like the pebble and all its brethren were personally offensive.

“You’re getting really good at that.” She remarked, watching him strike a pinecone off a stump from fifty paces away.

“I keep sacrificing either speed or accuracy. Go too fast, I hit with a lot of force, but don’t hit what I aimed for. Go slow, and I hit what I aim for but not with enough force to do any damage.” He held another pebble up to his eye to inspect it.

Pucker Thorn had grown big in the last three years. He stood a head taller than Thistle did and was nearly twice her weight. There was a scar on his right shoulder where a bear had swatted him last year.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Thistle smiled reassuringly. She wouldn’t know where to even begin with that thing. The only weapon she ever carried was a flint knife and that only saw use cutting herbs and umbilical cords.

“Thistle! Light! You’re just in time for an early lunch!” Pink Peach came galloping up the path. Her legs were stained with mud and her tail was clumped up with it. She was beaming though, as happy as ever to see her.

“I’ve been here all morning.” Light commented while Pink caught her breath.

“Is the cellar done already? I thought it would take longer.” Thistle blinked as she and Pucker were whisked inside.

“Got it all finished up with Oak Leaf’s help. The hardest part was making sure the weight of eight ponies wouldn’t cause it to cave in.” Pink rolled her eyes. “You know, Thistle, you guys don’t have to live all bunched up like that. It’s getting a little ridiculous.”

“Me, Light, Morning, Mountain, Hornet, Cam, Busy Bee, and Shaded Brook.” Thistle listed. “Yeah, the hut’s a bit crowded these days, but the foals really don’t take up much room.”

“They will in a year or two. Busy Bee’s already two and Brook turned one this season.” Pink pointed out. “Sure, tying your loose herbs to the ceiling gave you a little more space, but I’m honestly surprised none of you hang out the door at night.”

“And you know it’s no trouble to me to build more huts. We’ve got plenty of room for expanding.” She finished.

“I know, I know.” Thistle sighed, accepting a basket of early blooms for lunch. “We all do our own things during the day but we do sort of step on each other’s tails at night.”

“And faces.” Light gingerly patted her snout, where Busy Bee had stomped on it in his hurry to get outside to do his business.

“You know, I’ve got this idea for a new kind of house.” Pink Peach told her.

“When do you not?” Puck snorted. “This isn’t going to be like when you tried building a bridge over the gully and then it collapsed and made a dam instead, right?”

“I dismantled that!” She fumed. “Besides, we do need a bridge over that thing. Sure, the water’s low in summer and fall, but it gets dangerous in winter and spring! But no, you great lummox, this isn’t going to be like the bridge.”

“This time I was thinking more along the lines of more rooms in one hut, like with a wall dividing them.” She tried explaining.

“Wouldn’t that just make less space? I mean, unless you were thinking of making a hut as big as the storehouse?” Thistle frowned.

“No, its more like, grr! Come outside, I need to draw this!” She pulled them both away from their half finished meals. Pink grabbed a stick left by the wall for this purpose and began drawing.

It was a big square. She talked while she drew. Here was the front door. Here was the firepit, moved to the back of the house and with its own little square that would make a channel for the smoke to go out and the heat to stay in. A line with a gap for another door marked a second room.

Her next picture was the house from the front. The door, a window. The third picture was the back of the house, which showed the channel the smoke could escape from.

“Why is the roof all pointy like that? Thatch doesn’t sit like that.” Thistle asked.

“I won’t be using thatch.” Pink smirked. “You know that colt, Clay Hooves? His pottery gave me some ideas! In fact, after lunch I’m gonna go talk to him for a bit.”

“I hope it works out.” Thistle studied the pictures. What would they look like in real life?

“Is something up, Thistle?” Pink’s smirk dropped. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Yeah,” She crossed and uncrossed her hooves. “Um, Puck? Do you still want to be Lead Stallion? You talked about it when we were foals, but you haven’t mentioned it in the past few years.”

Pucker scratched himself, thinking of this. He looked at the big stone he used for flint knapping, and the stump he used for target practice.

“I still want to protect the herd from predators and monsters, but honestly, Thistle? I don’t think I want to be Lead Stallion anymore.” He admitted.

“Wow, never thought I’d hear him say it.” Pink blinked at him. “There a reason you’re bringing this up, Thistle? I know I’ve heard plenty of ponies talking about who you’ll choose.”

“Woodpecker approached me with a formal offer to be my Lead Stallion.” She sighed. “It’s not that your brother isn’t a good stallion, it’s just…”

“It’s just that he’s Woodpecker and he’s been flirting with you since the village was founded.” Puck summed up. “He’s turned down mares before. I think he did it because he wants to prove he’s dedicated to you.”

“My dam and brother are both a couple of carrot-chasers, no one can argue that.” Pink rolled her eyes. “But they’re not bad ponies. Honestly speaking? Even if you do follow him, it’s not like you have to love him or anything. Lots of mares don’t even live with their stallions!”

“Besides, your hut is filled to capacity and I wouldn’t wish living with my dam on my worst enemy.” She groaned theatrically. “Not even the likes of Cliff Face deserve that cruelty.”

“I vote we do not invite Woodpecker to live with us.” Light lifted her hoof. “I’m already counting down the days until my first heat when I can follow Pucker and move out.”

“Aw, but who will I kick awake at night when I’m called to deal with a difficult birth?” Thistle snickered.

“Kick Mountain.” Was her instant reply.

“C’mon, Thistle, no changing the subject.” Pink grabbed her chin to force her to pay attention. “I know my brother’s no catch or anything, but what’s bugging you about this?”

“I wanted to wait at least a year.” She sighed tiredly. “The younger mares die more often in childbirth. Enduring said fifteen was the earliest a mare should even try for one.”

“Yeah, hence why I didn’t already have something cute to cuddle with last winter.” Pink nodded along. “But Thistle, ponies are getting excited. I can’t tell you how many ponies I walked by gossiping about your prospects.”

“I don’t understand why they’re getting impatient.” Light’s brows furrowed in confusion. “True Blue is a good Lead, nopony ever has anything bad to say about her.”

“Yeah, she’s a good Lead, but she’s not Thistle Burr.” Pink straightened up, putting on an expression that wouldn’t look out of place on Cardinal’s face. “The first pony to ever have a magic mark, our herd’s healer, started the farming projects, brought us to a new age of ponykind! That Thistle Burr!”

“Oooh,” Thistle groaned, lying down just so she could clap her hooves over her ears. “Cursed Shadows, just stop.”

“Eh, I say give it a go and if you really don’t like him, just ditch him after the foal is born.” Puck shrugged. “You have to raise a foal for at least one year to be eligible so you have until then to decide if you want Woodpecker to be your Lead Stallion.”

“True.” But once he got the title she’d be stuck with him until one of them died.

“At least you don’t have to worry about the title transition itself.” Light offered, patting her reassuringly.

“What do you mean?” Pucker cocked his head to the side.

“Traditionally, the Lead Stallion faces any challenger in a fight to the death and whoever loses the bid for Lead Mare is banished from the herd.” She reminded him. “But since we’ve founded the village, nopony is going to be run out of the herd unless they break a major law.”

“Can you imagine anypony being able to kill Rockslide?” Pink snorted. “Puh-lease, that stallion is built like an avalanche. I’m pretty sure a spear would just bounce off him.”

“It would hurt him just as much as it would hurt anypony.” Thistle rolled her eyes. “It’s the actually hitting part that would be impossible.”

“Especially since he’s been using that wooden shield thing Hornet made.” Pucker sent a sour look to his own shield leaning against the wall. “Re-training myself to use that and a spear has been annoying, but I definitely don’t want to get swiped by another bear.”

“Yeah, I’m all for the not-getting-killed plan.” Pink nodded empathetically.

Author's Note

This story is a sequel to Helping Ponies! It's projected to be a lot longer too. I've already got a little store of chapters set up to be updated weekly. So I guess I'll update again next Wednesday!