Cuddles IV
May Flowers
Admiral Biscuit
Spring was in the air, that was obvious as soon as I got out of bed and threw open the window. The air was fresh, birds were chirping, the sun was already warm and invigorating . . .
And then off in the distance I saw a grey cloud slide into place. I could faintly make out a pegasus pushing it. Still, it was a beautiful morning I could enjoy while it lasted, and the plants would appreciate the rain.
•••
The rain came just after I arrived at work, gently at first, perhaps a reminder that stragglers ought to hurry up and get in their offices lest they be soaked. Mitzy was caught out, and started her day swearing that a pegasus had a personal vendetta against her which seemed unlikely but who knew? She wasn’t all that wet, anyway.
Did pegasi even go for personal vendettas?
It was an interesting change of pace; the office windows had been open since Winter Wrap-Up, and now they were pulled almost all the way shut to keep the water out. It did give the office a kind of gloomy air, especially with Mitzy occasionally glaring out the window, as if daring whichever pegasus might have gotten her wet to come down and fight.
By lunchtime, she’d focused back on her work, and office harmony had been restored. At least until she remembered she’d forgotten to pack a lunch and it was still raining and her bow had just dried out.
I’d packed sandwiches and offered her one, to at least keep the peace in the office. Plus, I could sympathize, back on Earth I’d been caught out by the weather a time or two and had to make the decision to risk the rain or go hungry.
Earth ponies were passing around seed catalogs and discussing their gardens, and a few unicorns and pegasi joined in on the conversation. We’d gotten our own seed catalog and also a Steers and Roebuck catalog as well, offering all sorts of gardening tools and homeowner tools, available shipped right to your house or the train station, depending on size. Some of the material was at least passingly familiar to me, and then I got to the section on harnesses, each one of them superior to the last, if the descriptions were to be believed.
Orders over a hundred bits included a free hoof-pick.
Larger implements were available, too; they offered wagons and hay rakes and treadmills which were for power, rather than exercise.
•••
The weatherponies gave us a break around quitting time. Clouds got broken up or consolidated over farm fields, leaving the town in afternoon sunshine. Mitzy gave me a nuzzle on her way out of the office and apologized for being grumpy in the morning, and promised that she’d bring in something tomorrow to make up for the sandwich I’d given her. I hoped it would be cookies.
There wasn’t a market day when there was rain, but there were always enterprising ponies wanting to tempt pedestrians with their wares. Maybe it was the sunshine sparkling off the grass, or the heady smell of fresh earth, but I couldn’t help but stop as I passed by a battered farm wagon laden down with pots of flowers, and a mouth-painted sign that said “May Flowers.”
She could have painted the wagon, too, but then that would have distracted from the riot of colors. Instead, it sort of faded into the background, a vaguely earth-toned display.
I didn’t know much about flowers, although I knew more than I had when I came to Equestria. I ran my finger across a daffodil, then sniffed it while the salesmare watched attentively.
“Trying to impress your special somepony?”
“Maybe,” I admitted.
“Unicorns love yellow and gold,” she said. “Daffodils are a good start, and then you can have daisies and carnations and chrysanthemums for later in the year . . . those are tasty, too. And yarrow and goldenrod, too, although some ponies don’t like goldenrod ‘cause it’s feral. That pot you’re looking at, they’ll start blooming even before the snow’s melted.”
“Well, why not?” I picked it up. “How much?”
“Two bits, and a bargain at that price.”
“Sold.”
Her ears dropped for a second before perking back up. Too late I remembered that ponies loved to haggle. “Uh, do I get a deal if I buy two pots?”
That got her back on track, and she nodded. “Three and a half.”
“How about three?”
“Three and a quarter.”
“Three and a quarter, and you tell me which is the best to go with the daffodils.”
“Hmm.” She frowned, then brightened back up. “This is gonna be unconventional, but snowdrops. They’re also early bloomers, and they’re almost the same color as Cami. She’ll like them.”
As I forked over the bits and took possession of my new flowers, I wondered if we had a shovel at home. If not, I could borrow one from the neighbor.
•••
I’d planted them on either side of the front door, and I’d washed up and considered making dinner, rejected that idea, and still there was no Cami.
It was hit or miss when she’d arrive home; depended on the day. For her sake, I hoped it was soon—the weatherponies had decided that the evening commute was nearly over, and had begun to push clouds back over town again.
Maybe she’d been called off on a special mission.
We generally had dinner together, although it was understood that if I was hungry and she was late, she wouldn’t be mad if I ate something first. And I’d offered one of my sandwiches in the interest of office harmony, so I was hungry.
I didn’t really understand the intricacies of her job, but it often enough involved magic gone rogue or summoned monsters and I couldn’t help but wonder how dangerous it was. She just played it off as if it were nothing, but was that true? Was some magical beast one day going to get the better of her?
Best not to think about. I kept the front door open and paced around as the first patters of rain fell, then distracted myself by trying to make some kind of a dinner for when she arrived home. There was a lot I didn’t miss from Earth, but the easy contact a cell phone offered would have set my mind at ease.
Or made it worse, if she didn’t reply to a text right away.
A flash of lightning, and I heard hoofsteps before the thunder and the deluge that followed. Cami was covered in mud, her legs and her barrel all coated, her tail heavy, some of it still damp.
“What happened to you?”
“This is going to sound so silly,” she said, kicking her hooves against the door sill to knock some mud off. “But I found a great puddle and just had to roll in it.”
“A puddle.”
“Yeah.” Her eyes were bright, sparkling. “It’s spring after all.” Her horn lit and she lofted a carryout bag. “Don’t worry, I set the Hayburgers aside before I did. Oh, and I hope you don’t mind that you’re going to have to brush me after we eat, I’ve got mud everywhere.”
“Sure.” I was still considering what she’d said about rolling in a mud puddle, but that could wait until we’d eaten.
•••
Spring was hit or miss when it came to a fire. Most days, it was warm enough to not need it, although the nights would be cool. Still, the sunshine and the greening grass and the buds helped offset it most days, but today was a rainy day, a thundery day, and a little bit of extra heat in the evening was welcome.
Cami had covered the couch and my legs with a sheet from the laundry hamper before settling in, and even after eating dinner she still had damp spots where her coat or the mud was thick.
“So you just rolled around in the mud?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
“Because I could. Because it was there and it’s spring.” She levitated the brush in front of me and wagged it encouragingly. “Gotta pay extra for mud at the spa, and it’s not as good as when it’s natural, I don’t know if I can really explain why to a human, but if you were a pony, you’d know. Best stress reliever ever.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” But as I touched the brush to her muddy coat, I thought about splashing in mud puddles when I was young, the feel of mud between my toes. Maybe she was on to something after all. I’d never rolled in a mud puddle, nor had I ever paid extra at the spa to get the almost treatment.
She pressed her head against my chest as I ran the brush down her back, mostly clear of the mud so far. “I saw the flowers, they look nice.”
“I got them from May . . . “ My voice trailed off. “April showers bring May flowers.”
“What?”
“It’s a saying on Earth,” I said. “But I bought the flowers from a mare named May Flowers, do you think she got them from April Showers? That sounds like it could be a pony name.”
“It is, but April works weather and doesn’t have a garden as far as I know.” She glanced out the window at the rain. “Sometimes I think she’s got a vendetta against me, seems like this time of year whenever I’ve got to be outside, I get rained on.”
“Pegasi don’t have vendettas, do they?”
“You have no idea.” Cami shifted around on my lap and used her magic to pull a throw pillow under her chin. “Every spring and fall, the taxmare’s house gets drenched. Sometimes a pony gets herself a personal raincloud and if they’re feeling really vindictive, it gets pushed in through a window. And lightning strikes can be aimed, too. Celestia help you if you live in a village cursed by the pegasi, it’s going to be flooded or in perpetual drought. Possibly with frequent tornadoes if they’re really feeling frisky.”
“Is that much of a problem?” The brush snagged as it hit dried mud, but she didn’t complain so I kept working.
“Not so much any more, we’ve got treaties and Harmony and special weather teams at the Agency if things get out of control. Not only specialist weatherponies, but also negotiators. Not my job, but I hear stories. Everypony likes to gossip over lunch.”
“You’d already mentioned surprise gardens,” I said. “With earth ponies.”
“And humans, it seems.”
“Nothing magical about the daffodils or the snowdrops, I put them in with a shovel.”
“Just the same, I’ve got my eye on you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I ran my finger up her horn, a sure way of distracting her.
“Dude.”
“You’re the silly pony who had to roll in the mud.”
She turned her head and looked me in the eyes. “You try it and you’ll swear by it.”
It had been too long since I’d splashed in a mud puddle, and I’d forgotten what I’d once known.
•••
The rain sluiced down, the cloud greyed out the fading light of day. Cami, half-groomed, twisted on her back in a puddle in the low spot in the yard while I stood in the ankle-deep water, splashing it around, feeling the wet grass and muddy soil oozing between my toes, feeling a connection with the earth wanting to be made, and it wasn't that much more of a step to join her in the mud, to shed my human sense of propriety in favor of the pony way, and I briefly wondered how many of my office-mates had done the same or were doing the same right now.
Then I just enjoyed it for what it was, cold and wet and muddy and wholesome, we were both giggling and both soaked and splashing each other, and I was shivering as we finally went back inside.
Now the fire was necessary; even with a change of clothes I was cold and soggy, and Cami couldn’t do much but shake herself off and drape a towel across her back.
And settle on my lap.
“You’ve got a spell to dry yourself off, don’t you?”
She nodded. “Of course I do, but you said it before, this is the best way to warm up.”
“The clothes do help . . . wet fur isn’t as good as clothes. Let me get up, let me get a hoodie.”
Cami shook her head and snuggled down, just like a cat, immovable. Then her horn lit, and one of my hoodies appeared, twisting in the air before she dropped it on the couch.
“Now sit up, just for a moment.”
“Are you going to make me wear it?”
“You don’t have to,” I admitted. “I just thought it would help.” And you look adorable in a hoodie, I didn’t add.
•••
“You’re a silly pony.”
Cami stuck her tongue out at me. She’d pulled the hood as tight as she could, leaving her horn and muzzle poking through, her eyes deep in shadow. “It’s like having a private cave,” she said, her voice muffled by the tight string around her chin. “No wonder wizards love hooded robes, they can just pull them shut when they want to think. Hmm.” Her horn lit again, then poked through the hood and she pulled it tighter. “There, that’s better. Can you see me?”
Just her nose was sticking through. “Not really.”
“Perfectly hidden, as good as being invisible.” Her magic twined around the strings. “Where’s Cami?”
A second later, she folded the hood back. “There’s Cami.”
“You must have been a hit in magic kindergarten.”
“You have no idea.” She folded the hood back, leaving it loosely draped over the top of her ears. “I could do TK before most of my classmates, and it was always fun to hide the chalk when the teacher looked away. Or other ponies’ quills and pencils . . . I was only good with light stuff back then. And I got detention a lot and I thought I was smarter than I was and got a spellbook from the library, that was the first time I saw ponies from the Thaumic Scrutiny Agency—”
“The Ministry of Magic.”
“—and that’s how I knew what I wanted to be.”
“All I ever accomplished in kindergarten was eating paste,” I admitted.
“And look at you now.”
•••
Outside, the last vestiges of the rain dribbled on the window, and a few distant flashes of lightning could occasionally be seen. Inside, the fire had burned down to nothing but shifting embers. And stretched out on my lap, fast asleep, was Cami, still wearing my hoodie.
Author's Note
Story notes!
