[i]PLUNK![/i] The tater landed in the pail, reverberating through the green and brown field. Tossed paused for a moment to wipe his brow. He was in the southwest field now, a relatively smaller field compared to the others. But for a little colt like Tossed, every field looked like it went on forever. Especially when he was the only one in it. It was a hot day today. Not that it was ever really cool, but today had those special marks of an especially warm day: No songbirds, no clouds, and an extra layer of sweat coating Tossed’s orange coat. “Ah swear,” the little Tater muttered. “Th’ princesses oughta keep that sun to themselves when-” “Rawk, rawk!” Tater’s eyes shot toward the direction of the sound, down toward the eastern edge of the field. There, a large oak stood, planted a long time ago by a Tater ancestor whose name Tossed could not remember. It was far enough away that Tossed had to squint to get his vision right. But when he did, he quickly spotted the noise’s source. “Rawk, rawk!” The source reiterated. It was a big white bird, a good two feet tall and about 5 feet of wingspan. It had a big red beak that clashed with the light brown and greens of the oak it was perched on. It was looking at Tossed with a blank expression, like it wasn’t really sure whether to ask him a question or tell him to beat it. It really didn’t matter what he would say though, since Tossed Tater could not speak bird (most ponies can’t). But Tossed decided he would do something he never had before: He would pretend he knew what the bird was saying. Why? He didn’t know. It was just one of those things that came to him, like most flights of fancies do for most little colts. [i]Why, what’s th’ matter, Neighbor Bird?[/i] The little Tater said in his mind. [i]Well, Tossed, I’m afraid to say that I’ve gotten quite lost. Would you happen to know which way Ponyville is?[/i] “Tossed!” A voice rang out. The poor little colt nearly fell on his face as he lurched forward. Peering behind himself, Tossed could see his father, Tough Tater, looking down at him, a deep frown planted on his face. “Boy, what are ya doin’?” “Nothin’, sir!” “And that’s just th’ problem, boy! Th’ rest o’ yer brothers and sisters are digging them taters like there ain’t no tomorrow, and yer just standin’ there!” Tossed hung his head. “Ah’m sorry, sir.” “Hmph,” the grey stallion huffed through his beard. “Yer a good boy, Tossed, but ya need ta focus. Winter’s gonna be mighty harsh this year, and Ah don’t want to be diggin’ no graves for any mah chilren because we didn’t have enough food. Understand?” “Yessir.” “Good. Now git to it.” He turned away and made his way back north, towards the homestead in the middle of the farm. Tossed went back to the potatoes, pulling at them like they were weeds. [i]PLUNK! PLUNK! PLUNK![/i] He pulled and pulled at the spuds for some time, working his way towards the eastern edge of the field. But Tossed kept his eyes fixed to the ground. He knew that bird was still up there and would make his mind wander again. But as he got closer and closer to the oak, the sweat building up on his thin orange coat, his little mind began to drift once more. [i]It was awfully rude ta leave th’ bird hangin’ like that. Oughtta at least tell it which way ta fly.[/i] Tossed did his best to ignore these thoughts, but they kept building up inside of him, like they were boiling water and he was the pot in this hot autumn sun. Eventually, he could stand it no more and glanced back up at the oak. The bird still stood there, staring at him with that same blank expression. [i]Well, Neighbor Bird, you just need to fly east from here. You’ll eventually see Ponyville if ya go that way.[/i] The bird blinked. And then it just stood there. It stood there even after Tater had gone back to work, picking and sweating even more. It stood there as Tossed ran back homeward as the dinner triangle rang. And it stood there long past midnight, when ponies and beasts laid down to sleep. Then, when the Moon was at its highest, it opened his wings and flew away, due east.