The work is getting easier already. Most of it is harmony; I'm starting to learn to predict directions, rather than waiting for the reins to nudge me the right way. I'm still aching in ways I usually don't, and I imagine that part of the strain will take longer to adjust to - I'll just have to bulk up in ways that weather work hasn't made happen.
The social aspects are still harder. Cold Front isn't glaring at me anymore, but I still expect the resentment to come at me sometime - not seeing it there just has me on edge, worried it'll catch me off guard. I just can't read him.
I've yet to see the bat ponies eat, and it's getting conspicuous. When we make camp, they grab something from the carriage without ever letting me see what, excuse themselves, and vanish for a while. Obviously they're eating something, but don't want to be around other ponies when they do. Or maybe around me, as the unknown.
So probably they're eating something that'd make most ponies uncomfortable. A few years back, that might have disturbed me rather more; since then I've come to terms with something that a lot of ponies in Horseshoe Corners don't know, which is that the Diomaredes eat flesh, and there's a colony of them just past Witherby. They don't eat ponies, but it's still the sort of thing that'd make ponies anxious.
Was this something like that? Or was it actually something more sinister, somehow? Not knowing might have been worse than having it out of the way, but how could I bring something like that up?
And then there's my... employer, patron, charge. Something. Star Bright. Always cordial, even friendly, but always a little bit distant. I've been constantly checking my actions and reactions - things just got so weirdly personal in Bitsburgh, and I had no idea how to take it, nor how he took it.
It was awkward. And having it stretch out over a few quiet days hasn't helped.
Another thing that hasn't gotten any easier to deal with is my own training. We got set upon by a surprise squall off the coast, and it took lurching against my harness to remind me that clearing up the weather was not my job. No doubt all four of the others felt that slip, though they haven't said anything, and after that one lapse I was able to control myself, bring the carriage down, and wait for the local weather squad to show up and disperse the storm; it didn't even take all that long. I might have been able to do it before they got there, alone, if I hadn't been in harness.
I'm not sure what's a more daunting thought: that I might not get used to this by the time I go back to my normal life, or that I will, and going back will be the same struggle in reverse.
