Chapter Three

Kimono was reminded of a flock of sparrows suddenly taking to flight as he watched the children scatter in a confusion of red and white and purple. Some galloped helter-skelter with their noses nearly touching the ground and their manes (white and red or orange, white, and pink, depending on their gender) dragging in the grass; others paced carefully, their hoofsteps marking out a neat grid as their eyes scanned every inch of ground. Kimono stood up when twin colts and a filly circled the rectangle of new grass brightened with crosuses, but the foals retreated after leaning in to examine the polished black marker at the head of the grave, and Kimono sat down again.

The youngsters darted past each other, their paths interweaving as they orbited around the green stallion. He sat on his haunches, calm like the eye of a hurricane, watching the youngest filly as she wandered slowly around the old weathered cart, snuffling through the grass. She looked up suddenly.

"Minty?"

"Uh huh?"

"What did Daddy look like?"

Minty gazed up at the shifting clouds and answered, "He looked just like Baby Candy Cane and Candy and Peppermint and all the other boys, Tigg. Only grown-up."

"Like you?"

"Older than me. Like Mama."

The tiny purple brow creased as she digested this, then . . . "Minty?"

"Uh huh?"

"You said Mama's . . . going away?"

"Uh huh."

She slowly reared to her hind legs, resting one foreleg against the cart wheel for balance. "On a . . . on a trip?"

"That's right . . ."

The baby pony studied the shrouded figure on the bed of the cart carefully before turning towards the green pony. "But how c'n she see where she's going with sheets tied over her?"

"Some paths . . ." Minty's eyes closed, his mouth momentarily trembling into a downturn. "Some paths you don't see with your eyes, Tiggy."

Tigg slowly drew her hoof back from the paint-flecked wood, sinking back to a sitting position. Just then shouts erupted from two of the mid-sized colts who reared excitedly, calling the others as they pawed at the ground.

We found him! Minty! We found him!"

Hoofbeats thudded, muffled by the grass as the entire clan rushed towards the successful colts, gathering in a respectful ring around spring-grown grass that looked no different from any other part of the field. Minty carefully worked his way through the crowd of babies rearing and shoving to get a better view. At last he edged his way into the circle, stepping lightly around the perimeter.

"Where, Peppermint?"

One of the white colts raised a foreleg that trembled with excitement or nervousness, pointing at a spot that looked just the same as any other, except that a barely visible, solid corner of rectangular rock could be seen there. Just the edge, before the grass slid right over it.

The ponies seemed to hold their breath as Minty tilted his head to examine the spot, but at the same time a thin whisper ran around the circle, like a gentle breeze seeping through reeds. Minty pawed at the turf, smudging dirt across his green hoof as he scraped away clumps of sod to reveal a flat stone that shone duskily in the sunlight, as though the sun struggled through the smears of dirt and clinging webs of roots spread across the once-polished surface. The almost-grown Baby Tiger Lily whickered softly as Minty knelt to examine it.

He rose to his hooves, the grass stains all but invisible on his already green knees. "We've found Papa," he said solemnly.

A collective sigh ran through the others and, without moving, they seemed to relax. "We found Papa. We found Papa." The phrase slid through the gathering, soft and respectful.

Minty moved into the crowd of tiny ponies on his right, gently nudging and herding them to the other side of the stone. Like a stream rolling around a stone, they avoided treading on the empty grass surrounding the marker. All the foals watched their oldest brother as he walked with his head down, eyes flickering back and forth as he minutely examined the plot to the right of the stone.

After several minutes of intense scrutiny, he lifted his head, catching the sunlight across his pink mane. "No one's here yet. This spot can be for Mama."

With a simple gesture, he dug his hoof into the soil, tearing up the first piece of sod.

Minty and his two oldest siblings, Candy Cane and Baby Tiger Lily, took the job in turns as dirt churned from the deepening hole in dusty showers. The younger babies watched. Tigg sat solemnly on the old cart, one hoof resting gently against the large linen-wrapped bundle beside her.

Finally Minty gestured Baby Tiger Lily and Candy Cane away with a flick of his tail. He paced evenly along the hole's length and width. (Measuring, thought Kimono.)

"It's done," he declared at last. "Now . . ." He stopped, clearing his throat as though there was something caught in it, but the purple fillies and the white colts were already gathering around the cart, black ribbons bobbing. Two medium sized colts slid the bundle off the cart with care, Tigg helping by pushing it with her head towards the waiting crowd. Little mouths caught hold of the white cloth before it touched the grass, the youngest stumbling in an awkward sideways gait and the elder hardly more graceful as they stretched their necks over the backs of the toddlers. Twelve ponies bore their stiff linen burden in a solemn, lopsided procession.

Minty helped them lower the wrap of white cloth and black cords into the gash in the earth.

"So light," one of the older fillies mumbled, scrubbing at her eyes.

Minty nuzzled her. "Shh, Lilium. What did Mama always say? 'When many bear the load, all burdens are light.'"

Candy Cane appeared at his sisters side, supporting her, as Minty stepped forward and nosed the first ceremonial splatter of rich earth into the grave. Lilium kicked a spray of dirt, head still buried in her brother's mane, and soon the others followed suit.

After every pony had contributed a dusting of earth the oldest ponies, Minty, Baby Tiger Lily, and Candy Cane, pushed scoops of soil and sod over the linen wrapping until it was completely buried. Minty straightened, his hooves and nose besmeared with dirt.

"We love Mama," he said simply. "And even though she had to leave us, we know we'll see her again someday."

"Where, Minty?" Tigg demanded.

"Where rainbows go after the rain."

"An' when?"

"Someday."

"But I wanna see her NOW," Tigg proclaimed loudly.

Minty just nuzzled her. "Go find some pretty flowers. We'll leave them on Mama's . . . We'll leave them with Mama." He bumped her forward into the waving grass. Her knobbly legs stretching, she lollopped through the field. The other children stood scattered in ones and twos, staring hard at the grave, or the horizon, or nothing, wiping dirt across their faces as they scrubbed at their eyes.

Kimono blinked suddenly as a gentle cascade of cherry blossoms roused him from his contemplations of the scene below. Standing, he shook the flowers off . . . and stilled as he watched the young filly, Tigg, rushing a bright splash of gold, purple, and white back to her brother.

Minty, lookit what I got for Mama! Maybe it was a trick of the mind, but Kimono could almost see the delicate, bruised veins of the crocuses as the filly proudly presented them to the green stallion.

Tigg! Minty gasped, taking the bouquet from her. No, no, sweetie, these belong to someone else. Kimono stood like a rock, but Minty must have felt his stare; the green pony wheeled slowly and lifted his head, meeting his focused gaze. Then he dropped his eyes back to his baby sister. They belong to that pony on the hill; take them up there and apologize to him.

The crocuses were further scrunched as Tigg held them tight in her mouth, taking a hesistant step forward. But then she ran back, circling behind Minty and pressing her face against his side. He sighed, took the flowers from her, and left her at the foot of the hill.

Kimono watched him climb, his shoulders working and head bobbing as he forded the thick grass, flanks trailed by stalks a darker green than his coat and wildflowers more muted than the bouquet in his mouth. The stallion paused to catch his breath at the top before covering the few remaining steps to Kimono. Transferring the spray of flowers to the crook of his leg, he met Kimonos eyes and grimaced in apology.

Im sorry, Minty said, holding out the purloined flowers. Shes young.

Kimono took them carefully; the short stems had teeth marks on them now and some of the petals were crushed. But then crocuses died quickly in any case. He lowered his head slowly as he set them at his hooves, composing his response. There was no point in saying it was nothing; they knew, both of them, that it was not.

The green pony waited, his purple eyes sincere and his hooves dusty. Kimono turned and gazed down the hill at the baby, who now sat perched on the cart. Too young, he said at last.

Minty followed his eyes and gave the ghost of a sigh. Yes, he agreed, too young. He gave a sad smile. But no one is ever old enough for that, are they?

He didnt respond or even move. But when the other pony turned to go he abruptly turned and said, Im Kimono.

Kimono. Thats a nice name. Im Minty. The green stallion nodded his head politely and seemed to be waiting for something, but Kimono returned to his vigil of the valley before. A minute later the grass swished as Minty retraced his steps. His family gathered around him as he shook the buckles and straps of the harness back into place and pulled the cart out of sight.

Kimono sat until evening with flowers dying at his feet.