Under the Roof of the Sky

'I should be cold,' thought Luna.

 

She knew, of course, the thin air at this altitude didn't affect her as it did other ponies. So too did she know the biting wind had no teeth with which to gnash at her. But, for some reason, she felt as though goosebumps should be running up her spine or a phantom chill should seize her body.

 

Beneath her lay a flood of lights and buildings, Canterlot proper lit up even in the depths of night. Luna beat her wings, fighting the dead, cold air's pull. She kept a fair altitude, not wishing to disturb the ponies below, only observe. The streets had thinned considerably, only true night owls wandering about now. One was chatting with a friend near Donut Joe's, another lonesome and passing through an alley. Could Luna see into windows from this angle, she might see children watching the stars twinkle in the sky, or grown ponies adore the moon a while before drifting off to sleep.

 

One pony, however, was working. Luna could tell by the repetitive motions. She circled above this pony, curious, watching him shrug off the night with duty. He stood on one of the few patches of grass in Canterlot, one hugging the massive cliff face that marked one of the city's boundaries. It was difficult to make out much more, the only light source nearby a small lantern illuminating the area in which he worked. For minutes she watched, wondering if the pony might break his routine, or what he felt was so important that it needed to be done at night. Perhaps this pony slept during the day.

 

Luna considered going down to meet the pony. Her flight was one of leisure, not responsibility, so she would not be leaving other things unattended. Her presence may spook the pony, but she had worked on her presentation. Perhaps now was a good time to practice further. As she curled into a steep dive, she only hoped she wouldn't be interrupting anything or otherwise unwelcome.

 

Not all ponies had believed her reconciliation genuine.

 

The parting wind thrashed at Luna, but its attacks bounced off her harmlessly. She swallowed a lungful of the frigid air, imagining its chill permeating her body. Her descent was silent but for a high-pitched whistle, though the air sounded as if it roared to Luna's ears. As she neared the ground and details popped out, she recognized the place the pony stood and the work he must be doing. Such was not enough to satisfy her curiosity, though. Wings billowing out, Luna slowed herself just in time to hit the ground softly. The unfurling of wings and hooves on ground gave notice to the pony he had a visitor.

 

Pausing his work, he turned around to face Luna. She saw a glint in his eyes as they grazed over Luna, swallowing her form much like her coat drank the moonlight.

 

"Eh," he said, voice slow and gravely. "Jus' seein' ghosts again."

 

"Pardon, sir pony, but I am not a ghost."

 

"So you say. But that'd jus' make you like all the others, wouldn' it?"

 

She took a few steps forward, letting the lantern the pony worked by illuminate her. It never occurred to her that ghosts might not know of their own status, though she never believed in such things in the first place. "I suppose they would say that. But I am quite real." Reaching out, she laid a hoof on his back, feeling his muscles twitch in response. "Do you not feel this?"

 

"Yeah. Don't mean you ain't a ghost, though."

 

Thunk. He grunted with effort as he continued.

 

Luna found herself with plenty of patience to spare. Nighttime and solitude can do strange things to a pony, she knew. "Is there some action I can take to prove my existence to you?"

 

"Eh, don' worry 'bout it. I 'magin it don't make a bit o' diff'rence. Evenin' to ya, Princess."

 

Strange. But if he's willing to talk, thought Luna, than so am I.

 

Another grunt. Another thunk. His work was unconcerned with princesses and ghosts.

 

"It is curious to work at such an hour."

 

"Maybe."

 

Luna waited for him to add more, but he kept silent, still watching the ground he worked on. Not much of a conversationalist. "Do you have a reason to work under the cloak of the night? Necessity? Preference?"

 

He paused. "'Zat the princess askin'?"

 

"No, simply a curious mare." She stretched her wings, flapping them once before putting them to rest again. Nighttime flights could be taxing and leave her sore if she let them.

 

"I do it now 'cause ponies don't wanna see me doin' this durin' the day."

 

"Do you truly think they care? The act seems harmless."

 

"Anywhere else, yeah, it is. This place's a bit diff'rent, though. You seen their eyes, you'd know they care. I would."

 

Muscles straining, the pony heaved another lump of dirt onto the cart. There was still plenty left to go, however.

 

Luna's eyes wandered back to his flank. Adorning it was a shovel, covered in dirt at the spade. Odd, thought Luna. She expected it to be more than that.

 

"Your cutie mark..." her voiced trailed off. She didn't know exactly how to ask the question.

 

"Eh, it makes sense, don't it? I'm diggin', and it's a shovel."

 

"There must be a story behind it, though. The practicality is relevant, but the context seems peculiar."

 

He sighed, anchoring his shovel onto the ground to lean on it, turning back to Luna. "Course there's a story. Everyone's got a story. I'll jus' say I do this at night so no silly colt or filly comes wanderin' round here and gets one 'a these on their own flanks."

 

Luna furrowed her brow. "Do you dislike this job so much?"

 

"Dislike? Nah." He turned back around and picked up the shovel, glancing at Luna before resuming. "Figured you'd be one to understand it a bit better than most."

 

She? Was there something she was missing? This didn't not seem to have much to do with raising the moon and ruling a nation.

 

"Then tell me, so I might understand: why do you carry this task?"

 

"'Cause I like the night. S'cold and quiet. Suits me an' them jus' fine."

 

Luna looked back to the ground, soaking in all of his work. The chink of the shovel and rustling of dirt continued as she beheld the humble field before her. Seems like a lot of work for one pony.

 

"The cutie mark," he said.

 

"The shovel, yes."

 

"The dirty shovel," he added.

 

"So the presence of dirt is significant?"

 

He let out a grunt louder then the others, tossing another shovelful into the cart. "You ever seen any clean shovels? Those'r just for show. They're clean 'fore you, 'fore anyone uses 'em. Ain't doin' any good bein' clean. The only good shovels are dirty ones."

 

"So... that's the significance of your cutie mark in context."

 

"Context, smontext. What my flank got to say ain't nothin' 'portant about what I do. You jus' seemed curious about it, and I wanted 'ta point out the dirt. Ponies overlook it."

 

Rubbing her chin, Luna attempted to figure out whether this pony was well-thought in such things, or simply lost in his own mind. Nighttime and solitude, remember.

 

Again and again, the shovel hit dirt, left, and returned empty. The cart never seemed to fill up though, hungry for as much as this pony could give it. Luna imagined he'd be working through much of the night. His face strained with effort and he paused on occasion to wipe his brow. Luna noted the sweat and dirt building up in his mane. The rest of the night was silent, inconsequential to his duty and her surveillance.

 

"Not to say I ain't already got an audience, but what's got you so hooked?"

 

"I am... not sure. I feel as though I should be cold. Are you?"

 

"Nah, right as rain. Get used to how it is when you're out here s'much as I am."

 

Luna opened her mouth, paused, then closed it, eyes dropping to the ground in front of her.

 

"Perhaps this is what you meant when you said I should understand? We are both ponies of the night. There are few to see our work. Fewer who recognize it, I think."

 

He shrugged. "Maybe."

 

One last shovelful, and the pony stuck the shovel into the ground before sitting down next to the cart with a sigh. Taking a sip of water, he pointed at Luna. "Nah, you ain't a ghost. Wanderin' like one, though."

 

"And you decided that just now?" Luna said with a smirk.

 

"Aye." His voice was cut off by a bout of coughing. It took him several second to clear his lungs and he look a long gulp of water after doing so. "Eh, dirt in the mouth. Happens too much. But let me tell ya somethin', Princess Not-A-Ghost."

 

Her ears perked up. "And what might that be?"

 

"It's true, I like the quiet and I like the cold. Night's a good a time as any to be out here workin'. But why I really do this job? It ain't for that."

 

He set his water bottle down, grabbing the shovel and laying it across his hooves in front of him. Luna leaned forward, giving the tool a close an inspection as she dared.

 

"It's 'cause if I didn't do it, someone else'd have to."