“Alright, we're done!” And quicker than expected. “Good work, all of you! Now let's get all of this back home and get some rest!”

Harvest Moon looked on with a satisfied smile as his workers loaded the last of the dry and bundled hay onto the waiting trailers that were stacked as high as the larger breeds in his team could reach.

“If you're wondering why we're three horsepower short today,” he grinned, “I thought you'd maybe like a bunch of this year's first carrots and radishes to go with your day off tomorrow and someone has to dig them up and clean them.”

Had they not all been standing on soft ground, the chorus of hoofstomps would have been deafening.

The granary back in town was clean and prepared to receive a whole lot of finest quality winter food. He'd also taken the liberty of enlisting Moor's workers to stow it all into storage since his younger brother was out there somewhere, doing whatever. They weren't too happy about it, but praising them for their skills in maintaining the building and managing the available space for best food preservation (and belittling his own team's competency just a little) had done the job nicely. More free time for his team to rest up. They'd earned it.

He looked over his friends, because friends they were to him, all of them, as they began to strap themselves into the harnesses with the help of those who'd help to steady the load along the way.
Friends, he smiled again and nodded.

“HEY! HIGHGROUND!”, he shouted in his well trained voice. No one could match him at this.

A large stallion, who had only joined the herd a month ago, looked up with a little jump and stood still, clearly uncomfortable under the gazes of all the others who had gone totally quiet. Some of them looked at each other with knowing grins.

“Come here,” he said and trotted over to meet the nervous worker halfway.

'One-Walking-High-Ground', as his Old Northern Whinny name approximately translated to, was still damp with sweat that matted his yellow tinted black coat from back to barrel. The bangs of his equally black mane stuck to his forehead and partially covered the white star between his dark eyes.

“Right. You okay?” he asked with a lopsided smile.

The stallion, who stood more than a foot taller than Harvest, nodded apprehensively.

“So... [You are a fine worker. I like that. Now stay still.]”

Highground blinked in surprise and almost lost his balance when his lead worker roughly pushed his forehead against the black stallions shoulder, reared up to his full height and more or less let himself crash onto his lower neck and withers in an approximation of a chin on mane rub. At least as well as the height difference would allow.

He waited for the other one to recover and digest what he'd just done and braced himself for what he hoped would be the reaction. The cheers of his team and the moistened happy eyes of his new friend were certainly worth the bruised neck and hurting shoulder caused by the sincere reply.

Life was good.

He trotted over to where the last trailer stood, the largest one they used and the one he insisted on putting himself to, together with one of his strongest team members. It was one with two axles and even an inertia brake; not that it could get up to all that much speed easily on the bare rims.

Moorland had come up with the idea of mounting a trailer hitch taken from one of the rusting automobiles at the harbour on a long piece of roundwood, so that the chains of the harnesses could be fastened to the pole instead of directly to the trailer. He had to admit it greatly improved power transmission and manoeuvrability.

“[You have done enough to impress!]” he said with a chuckle and nudged the large stallion aside, motioning for him to get to his station beside the wagon. “[This is my work.]” He smiled at the ice blue mare already waiting and strapped into the left side harness.

She nodded in return. “He's not taking my place from me on his first day of recognition!” She grinned and continued in a lower voice “Besides, we'd have to seriously rework the whole setup here to accommodate that hunk.”

He smirked at her. “Let me guess. You'd prefer to have my side adjusted, wouldn't you?”

“Weelllll...” she smiled wistfully.

“Hate to disappoint you then. Not going to happen,” he gruffly cut the conversation short.

She pouted.

“Enough fooling around. EVERYONE IN PLACE? MOVE!” he commanded and put his weight into the collar with a grunt, hooves digging into the hard packed soil and muscles visibly straining on his hindquarters as the trailer began to move with a crunching sound.

The two horses at the back, also from the northern tribes, lifted their heads from the push plate bolted to the rear end. Each of them took a long pole in their mouth and quickly moved into position to use it to prevent the top layer of hay from swaying too much, the two already walking at the side of the trailer positioning themselves further ahead to accommodate them.

It was small moments like these that filled him with the warm feeling of honest pride, when all the practising and training he put everyone through, including himself, paid off in the form of the smoothest teamwork.

He wasn't generous with praise but none of them seemed to mind, and he usually let a content silence suffice as comment. That way the praise had all the more impact when it came, lavishly and heartfelt then, a lesson from father he'd taken to heart. For all their disagreements and silent grudges, he missed him dearly on some days. Especially on days like this when it all came together just so. Father would have been proud.

After a few hundred yards there was a nicker from behind, prompting him to look up from the ground he'd been concentrating on. Two ponies were trotting in their direction, having just rounded the bend after which the path led down to the main road. His mood soured when he recognized them as Moorland and Dawn.

“SLOWING DOWN!” Those at the side moved forward to catch the load's momentum with their poles. “Good. STOP.” The trailer rattled to a soft halt. Since he obviously was going to have a conversation with his brothers, he'd have to delay their way back. No way they could talk over the din. He snorted irritatedly and unhitched himself.

With a frown he realized that Moorland was flanking his youngest brother, with an inscrutable expression on his face, while Dawn himself held his head high and had even arched his neck a tiny bit when they'd come closer. His tail swished as he trotted forward to get out of earshot of his team. Something was up and he didn't like the way it looked.

He planted his hooves firmly on the ground and waited for them to arrive. “So you're back. Took you long enough,” he said dismissively. “What is it?”

“And a good afternoon to you too brother,” Moorland replied.

“I've had a long day already and I don't need this, Harvest,” Dawn said wearily, albeit with the slightest of tremors in his voice. He took a deep breath and glanced at Moorland for a second who nodded firmly. “Right. We need to set something straight.”

“And what would that be?”

Dawn locked eyes with him, even if it seemed to immediately take a toll on his resolve, ears beginning to splay back. Nevertheless, he continued. “We need to work together, not against each other.”

He snorted. “That's it? Sure. Just give me the resources I need and the freedom to use them as I see fit. Stop diverting things to your pet projects like father did in the beginning before I talked some sense into him. Could have learned a thing or two from him in that regard. You done? I have folks waiting over there who want to get home and call it a day.” He began to turn away. “They've actually really earned it,” he added with some fondness to his voice.

“Wait!” Dawn called out.

Harvest shrugged and made to walk back to his team.

“I said wait.” There was an unusual edge to his youngest brother's tone.

He looked back and noticed that Moorland had taken a step closer to Dawn and was giving him a disapproving look. There were few things he found more grating than that look. “THIS MAY TAKE A WHILE!” he called back to his workers who began to settle down, a groan or two just audible from this distance. He felt bad about it. He scowled.

Dawn had changed his stance, positioning his forehooves a little further apart. “Look, Harvest. I've realized a few things over the past couple of days. I need to delegate stuff. I need you to help run this settlement, not just doing your thing out here, no matter how good you are at it.”

“Isn't that your job, running things?” he deadpanned. He sighed. “Look, can you two let me get back to wrapping up today's work and maybe we can have this conversation later?”

His youngest sibling looked unsure for a moment. Then he did something unexpected. He narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice while staring at him. “No, we can't. This is private. And I want this over with today.”

“Alright. But I can't see what there's to talk about.” With a smirk he noticed that Dawn still almost had his tail tucked in, belying his assertiveness. Moorland had sat down, seeming slightly amused.

“I need you to organize and optimize projects of mine and Moorland's as well, not just your own. You're good at that. You're a brilliant lead worker. I won't try and get in your way if you agree to that. You explain your need for resources and I'll see to it you get them.” He held up a hoof. “Leave the research, planning and design to us. That's all.”

“No,” he stated flatly.

“What?! But... why?!” the young one exclaimed, startled.

“Because,” he growled, “That's your job. We're done here.” When there was no immediate reply he began to turn away again.

“I think not,” came Moorland's casual statement.

When he turned around once more with an angry huff he saw Dawn scowling at him. Equally angry.

“Fine,” his young brother said, “I guess you won't mind then if your friends out here don't have adequate dwellings come winter because Solstice's enthusiasm only will get us that far. Or if we can't get new storage space, proper storage space, mind you, built before you bring in enough food for our growing town to last over winter because Moor here has more than enough to do with maintenance that we also rely on.”

“You know full well that's not true!” he spat, his tone dangerously low.

“But that will be the result if you don't drop this silliness right now! Damn it Harvest. I'll do my part just like everybody else. I'll be the first out there in autumn when its time to get the muck out onto the fields if that's what it takes. No one can do all this on their own. I can't. And you can't either. I want the best pony for the job, and that means you. I've got my hooves full as it is, and you also know that full well!”

He sneered at Dawn. “Let me know when you're prepared to leave your job to someone who can handle it. Get out of my sight!”

Dawn's ears flattened as his tail began to swish. “You want full authority over all this out here? Well, you have it.”

That caught him off guard. “Just like that?”

“One condition.” Dawn took a step towards him, prompting him to unconsciously take on a fighting stance. He dimly noticed Moorland rise to his hooves. “You guarantee,” Dawn continued tersely, “That you won't let us starve or have us out grazing soggy compost in February because you messed up the calculations for what we need.

Because you didn't care if we have enough or the right kind of storage space. Because you messed up the sowing schedules, crop rotations and intercropping combinations. Because you didn't ask for the tools or workers or whatever in time. Because you took those out to the fields that should have been repairing your equipment. Because you always know better!” He took a deep breath and glared at him. “Can you guarantee to not mess up the planning?!”

“You little...,” he bit out before being interrupted.

“Yes. Or. No?” Dawn was bristling by now.

He lunged at him, taking the pegasus by surprise and easily bowling the much more lightly built pony over and throwing him to the ground with a strangled gasp, the air knocked out of his lungs by the blow right under the left wing joint. He stood over his little brother, chest heaving, unsure of what to do next. He felt the wide-eyed gazes of his team on him. He hesitated.

Dawn caught his breath again, gave a pained cough and rolled fully onto his back under Harvest, seemingly in a gesture of submission. Then he unfurled his wings and whipped them up into Harvest's face, the stiff primaries slashing painfully across his sensitive muzzle and leaving thin red streaks in their wake.

His yelp turned into a snarl as he reared up to strike the pegasus, who was trying to scramble to his hooves and avoid the impending blow, when Moorland barrelled into him head first without any sound but the SMACK of impact. He staggered on his hind legs, lost his balance and fell onto his side. Hard.

A little later, Moorland sat between his two brothers and rubbed his forehead with a hoof, watching them as they dazedly tried to get to their hooves again. “I admit I hadn't anticipated you stooping so low,” he nodded to Harvest, “Or you being foolish enough to challenge your eldest brother like that,” he added to Dawn. “Are you both quite done now with this indignity?”

“Get out of my way,” Dawn growled and locked his gaze on Harvest who'd just risen again as well, muzzle smeared with a thin coating of blood.

Moorland stopped nonchalantly brushing some dust from his left foreleg and looked up in alarm. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Bring it!” he challenged the pegasus. “Those bloody wings of yours are only good for one surprise! And nothing else! You'd be nothing without the things!”

Dawn advanced on him, shoving Moorland out of the way. “You know what?” he sneered, “You're right! I'd ripped them off and glued them to your back a long time ago if I could! See how you'd like grooming and preening them for ages every morning and then being completely ignored behind the shiny pretty things! Don't let them get dirty though. Dishonour fathers memory and all that.” He took a few more steps.

“Dawn, I fear you'll regret this,” Moorland advised from behind before standing up again with a sigh.

Dawn ignored him. “You've earned loyalty and respect for what you actually do,” he said, his voice dropping to an almost whisper. “I have it only because of my appendages, and if I don't make sure everything runs as smoothly as possible I'll lose it.” He stopped some six yards away and took on a fighting stance.

“It'll take months for this settlement here to find back to something resembling order under a new leader who'd have to make it up as he goes along. There were enough hickups when I took over – and everything and everyone was prepared for that transition!

We're not tribals anymore who'd just cope no matter what, regardless of fuel or foodstocks. There'd be deaths next winter.” He raised his voice again although it sounded thick with... something. “And you know that. And you're prepared to risk that. Or did you never think that far ahead?”

He scowled at his young brother but said nothing, concentrating on not letting the adrenaline getting the upper hoof again just yet. He also realized that his team members had inched their way up to the scene and possibly had heard Dawn's statement. The disbelieving looks hinted at it at least.

“And these?” Dawn unfurled his wings halfway. “Useless, by the way.” He suddenly grinned and nodded to the audience before looking back to him. “I can't fly.”

Moorland winced and looked away.

He gaped at the pegasus, trying to process what he'd just heard.

“There you have it,” Dawn said almost conversationally, yet shaking very slightly. “Father wouldn't teach me. I have no idea how I should go about learning it. For all I know I never will.” He chuckled, sounding relieved. “I. Can't. Fly.”

The shaking became clearly visible for a moment before it stopped abruptly and he smiled. Dawn looked genuinely, bizarrely happy just then, poised to attack, coat full of dirt and softly laughing at some beautiful joke only he had understood. Slowly he fell silent.

For a little while, the only sound was the wind whistling in the grass.

He started to open his mouth at last, but the pegasus pre-empted him by unfurling his wings to their full extent and starting to walk towards him again. The young one's gaze was suddenly cold.

“Let me know when you're ready to stop sabotaging my efforts to make this town prosper. I can't do this alone! And neither can you or anyone else for that matter!” He slowly flapped his wings once, still advancing. The afternoon sun glistened on the smooth keratin.

He found his voice at last. “I could! Father should have let the right one try! He knew I could do it! He knew!” The words sounded strained, defiant, even to his own ears. “You're just weak!”

In an instant, in a flurry of feathers and dust, Dawn was in his face, ears splayed back and shouting. “I don't care if you hate me or not! I want you-,” his wings beat the ground, pigeon blue downs blowing away in the eddies, “No, I damn well order you to fall in line and help me!”

He felt his tail sneak in between his legs as he backed up, his young brother's muzzle only an inch or two from his own, swishing wingbeats making him squint against the gusts of dusty air and blurry motion.

Dawn was yelling now. “If you can't do that: leave! Father got something right after all!! You're too proud, stubborn, narrow minded, arrogant and wilfully INCOMPETENT to lead!!!”

Dawn abruptly stopped and folded up, staring him down, panting. When he didn't reply, his young leader turned and trotted off. “Let me know your decision within a week,” he said hoarsely, without looking back.

A shocked silence descended on the field, lasting several minutes after the sound of the pegasus' hoofsteps had faded away in the distance.

“I say.”

Moorland was inspecting the ground before Harvest. It showed a lack of hoofprints for the last couple of yards, except for four somewhat deeper ones, created simultaneously right in front of his eldest brother who still stood motionless, an empty look in his eyes.

Finally he cleared his dry throat and looked first at Moorland, then at the ground. He felt numb. “How come you switched sides?” he said tonelessly.

Moorland looked up with a contemplative expression, as if giving the question some serious thought. “One should be able to accommodate newly emerged evidence.” He coughed at the blank stare he received in return. “Means: common sense.”

“Get out of my sight,” he said in a forlorn voice that carried no anger. That didn't carry much at all.

“If you insist. I'll follow our leader's advice though and re-enlist two technically adept pairs of hooves that you somehow acquired.”

He looked after the retreating form of the heather green stallion until he was out of sight and then turned back to his shell-shocked team. Two of them tried to offer consoling words or a soft touch to his withers but he brushed them off.

It helped when he put all his might into the collar and almost pulled the trailer alone by the feel of it, ignoring the occasional protest from those responsible for keeping the load stable through bumps and swerves. Only half an hour later they left their cargo in front of the granary for Moorland's team to unload and stow away.

They'd been lounging around in the early evening sun in front of the building and grumbled something about the lazy mudstompers who'd taken forever to get there.

He didn't comment and sent his friends off to their well deserved rest, fully aware that they'd spread the word. It wouldn't even be rumours, just facts. Maybe exaggerated facts, but still facts all the same. It didn't matter. His chest felt tight when he made his way out of town, up the road to Lynedardy Hill to the west.

When he reached the summit he sat down and just stared off into the distance, watching the shadows lengthen as the light turned the reddish purple of the midnight sun.

“Father got something right after all!”

Dawn had taken nothing from him. Father would have dismissed him anyway.

The everlasting wind tousled his mane as he finally turned his head a little and looked down on old Stromness, lying quiet in the murky twilight.

He'd been a little foal the last time he cried.

Author's Notes:

There we go, the set is complete. Damn, Harvest is hard to write... and the chapter just wouldn't accept any more content, no matter how hard I tried.