Hauling Across Equestria and Beyond: Mentoring Dakota

She was hardly out of childhood, not even an adult yet. Her horns were only a fraction of the size they were going to be. Her beard had barely started to grow out. She hadn’t even shed all of her baby-gold fur. And she was now Brave Storm’s responsibility.

Her name was Dakota, but the way that the bison had informed Brave Storm of this made the mare feel like there was some hidden insult in it. She had worked with enough bison by now to know that they often held many names. Brave Storm could never keep track of when to call a bison what, but they were always quick to correct her if she used the wrong one. But no matter who Dakota talked to, she was always Dakota.

“I just don’t think I’m the right mentor for her.” Brave Storm tried to reason with another member of the Merchant’s Guild, an Appleloosan pony. “I don’t think she even remotely likes me- hates me even.”

“She doesn’t take to any creature much. Ain’t personal.” he shrugged.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Dakota demanded with narrow eyes. Brave Storm put her head to her hoof and repressed a sigh. She didn’t want to set the bison off again, and she wasn’t going to argue with a teenager.

“Okay, but I think she like particularly hates me.” Brave Storm spoke again only once Dakota wandered off on her own.

“Why’s that?”

“She acts like being around me is a chore. Or like I personally upset her or something. I don’t know why though.” Brave Storm explained, resting her head against the bar counter and huffing. “I keep trying to talk to her about it, but she just gives me the cold shoulder. ‘I don’t owe you anything’ and walks off. I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe she does hate you.”

“Jee, that really helps. Why does it have to be me that teaches her to haul?” Brave Storm asks. “Why does she even need to be taught? It’s just… pull stuff from one place to another. She wouldn’t be alone, especially at her age.”

“Ma’am, how long have you been at this?”

“A month?”

“No, haulin’”

“Celestia- since I was about her age, I think.” Brave Storm answered.

“It’s a bit like walkin’. It’s something you know to do as soon as yer born. But there are certain things you pick up with time. And eventually, you figure out how to run. Make sense?”

“No.”

“Well, I tried.” the stallion shrugged, putting in no further effort to explain his point.

 

“What happened?” Brave Storm asked as Dakota’s cart broke in the middle of the road.

“I don’t know! Give me a moment!” the bison sneered, not even looking at Brave Storm as she went to inspect her cart. The thing was old and a lot of the wooden planks look splintered and rotted. Even though it broke with no extra weight in the bed, the mare was surprised it took this long for the cart to give out.

Brave Storm took a moment to quickly release herself from her own new cart and tried to help the bison. But the teenager glared her down when Brave Storm even got close. So she just sat in the middle of the road, watching as the bison flipped her cart over. Dakota released a despairing whine when she saw the axles had broken. 

Then she began to pace around her cart, grumbling loudly under her breath. And then she charged her cart. With a quick sweep of her head, she sent the cart tumbling down the road. Dakota began yelling profanities at it, screaming wildly as she continued to abuse the cart. Brave Storm could only look on with empathy as the bison raged and then broke down into a sobbing mess in the middle of the road.

“What?” Dakota demanded as Brave Storm stood next to her. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“What’s wrong?” Brave Storm ignored her.

“My cart broke! What do you think is wrong?” she shrieked. Brave Storm had a feeling if she was screaming, she’d be crying more.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what do you know!?”

Brave Storm sat beside her. Dakota glared at her. The bison looked away, but Brave Storm caught a flash of pain before she did. They sat in silence in the middle of the empty road for a long time. The only sound was Dakota’s occasional sobs as she tried and failed to hold back tears.

“The earliest memory I have is someone calling me a monster.” Brave Storm confided in the bison. “I don’t know why. After that, I remember… ponies in armor. And… for a long time after that- nothing. But I remember my parents, and knowing they weren’t my ‘real’ parents.”

The bison hadn’t interrupted her yet. This was the longest Dakota had ever let her talk. Brave Storm would have thought she was just ignoring her, but she saw her ears had turned to point at her.

“I was really angry, too. It took a really long time to work through my anger. Honestly? I’m still angry.” the mare admitted. “It’s just a little easier to deal with.”

“My parents died when I was little. Wild Magic, I think you-type call it.” Dakota said after a moment. “It was this huge eagle. Swept down and grabbed me. I have scars, but my wool is covering them. My mom… my mom went after it. I don’t know what she did, but she saved me. The eagle carried her away. And then my dad died saving me from a cougar years later.”

“I’m sorry.” Brave Storm raised a hoof to put on her shoulder but decided against it.

“Everyone who cares about me dies.” Dakota curled and released an anguished sound of rage, remorse, and loneliness. It was the saddest thing Brave Storm ever heard and she felt tears streaking down her face.

 

The rest of the day had passed with no progress along the road. Spirits were far too low to move on and it was getting late. Morning broke and Dakota pressed her head against the remains of her cart. It was far too battered for repairs now.

“This was the last thing I had of them.” she shared with Brave Storm. “Why did I do this?”

“I don’t have an answer for that.” Brave Storm answered honestly. Normally, Dakota would have told her off for being useless, but she said nothing. “But I do have something I could offer. See this piece on my cart?”

“What about it?”

“My old cart broke down not too long ago. Thing was old and it was getting harder and harder to keep up on repairs. But I didn’t want to let it go.” she explained. “Everything here is new material, except this piece. A part of the old cart. It’s not the same, but it’s still there in a way.”

“You’re really bad at this.” Dakota shook her head. Brave Storm felt her head drop as the old attitude began to return. But then she heard the bison laughing. It wasn’t the mocking laugh she usually gave. It was a genuine from-the-heart laugh. Brave Storm smiled and helped Dakota pick a piece from her old cart to bring along.