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- >Day Following in his footsteps in Equestria.
- >Panting, you look to the pile of logs you've already split.
- >Almost done, just one more.
- >You place the last piece of wood on the chopping block, wiping the sweat from your brow.
- >Looking to your hands, they are bruised and growing calluses.
- >They look more like your dad's rough hands every time you do this.
- >Grabbing his axe, your hands barely cover the handle.
- >It's still a struggle to lift it, even after all the practice you've gotten.
- >Placing the tip on the block, you lift and...
- >CHOP!
- >The blade splits it about a quarter in.
- >Pulling the log up with your axe, you try your hardest to slam it back down and break it one go.
- >No dice... it's still attached.
- >You go again, and again after that attempt fails.
- >Dad made it look so easy.
- >After a few more tries, the log finally gives and splits down.
- >Your pants are deeper, almost to the point of heavy wheezing.
- >You put the logs in the wheel barrow and try to lift it.
- >So heavy...
- >Letting the wheelbarrows handles down, you take a moment to rest, look at Anon's one possession that he left you.
- >That large axe.
- >You always wondered if he named you after his favorite possession or your mom's little wish.
- >Tears start to stream down your cheeks as you remember wanting to ask him.
- >You never did, you thought it would sound silly.
- >Why did he have to go...
- >You were young when he left your life, but you still remember a lot of moments you two shared.
- >Bed time stories, him teaching you to throw, helping you with your math homework before dinner, and him taking you with every time he went to cut firewood.
- >He always told you that one day you would be as strong as he was.
- >If he could see you now, you'd know he'd still say that even though you are a wimp.
- >You've wasted enough time feeling sad, mom is waiting for you.
- >Grabbing the handles again, you grunt and lift.
- >Pushing the container, you head back to the house.
- >It isn't far, just up the hill.
- >Once you reach the cottage, you dump the wood under the awning your dad built.
- >It used to be full of waiting firewood all the time.
- >Now it only has whatever you can manage to cut at one session.
- >Hiding your frown, you step into your home.
- “I'm back mom. I was able to get enough cut to last us the week.”
- >Your mom comes down the stairs, that same honest smile she always has.
- >”Thank you Timber. I know it's hard for you to do this.”'
- >You let off a chuckle, hands locked behind your back.
- “No mom, I'm happy to do it. It's better than wasting bits paying somepony to do it for us, right?”
- >She nods, walking next to you.
- >You bend over so she can wrap her hooves around your neck.
- >Some of her pink mane pokes your nose and mouth.
- >You don't want to be rude, but it feels way to uncomfortable.
- >Blowing it out, she giggles again and steps back.
- >”Timber, can you help me with Harry tomorrow?”
- >You put on the most sincere grin you can manage.
- “Of course mom.”
- >She smiles and heads out to grab one of the freshly cut logs.
- >The moment she leaves, you head to your room.
- >Throwing yourself on your bed, you let your frown return.
- >You disliked the animals...
- >Where they would take to your mom like bees to honey, they absolutely despised you.
- >Maybe that's one of the reasons you clang so tightly to dad.
- >He didn't get along well with most of mom's animals either, but he always made the effort to try.
- >Grabbing your pillow, you bring it close to your chest and bury your head in it, tears welling up again.
- >You look to the one photograph you have of him, speaking to it as if it would somehow be like talking with your dad again.
- “I'm sorry dad... I'm trying to be like you and I know I'm failing.”
- >Sniffling, you hear your door open.
- >”Timber... your father wouldn't have wanted that.”
- >Mom steps into the room, sitting on the edge of your bed, stroking your head with her hoof.
- “I know mom... I just miss him.”
- >Your tears fall freely, streaming down your cheek.
- >”I know you do, I do too. Anon, h-he was a good man. He deserved better than he got.”
- >You can hear your mom fighting back her tears, trying to stay strong.
- >Even your own mother could be stronger than you.
- >How could your dad ever be proud of such a weak son?
- >Because he was great...
- >Because he was a hero, not one of those story time ones but a real one.
- >Kind, patient, strong.
- >Why couldn't he teach you to be those thing while he was around?
- >After a few more minutes you finally calm down.
- >You spend the rest of the night with your mom, silently comforting each other by just being there.
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