Lucky Me

The entire trip to Ponyville was smooth enough, at the start of course. Nothing much happened while I trundled along, sitting at the back of the moving carriage while two buff-looking stallions pulled it silently, all gruff faces and pumping legs.

I sighed, and buried my head underneath the pile of fabric that was my covers. Ponyville was ages away, and tons of dark clouds were all bunched up in the sky ahead of us. I really wasn’t up to dealing with rain, and I wasn’t sure how the stallions would take it.

Still, even as the first tentative droplets of rain began to fall, the stallions ignored it. I sighed once more, and wrapped myself in my blankets. Boredom was setting in like a disease, and these silent stallions weren’t exactly adding to the general cheer of the situation.

Looking up, I suddenly spotted a tiny winged figure up amongst the clouds. His coat colour was such a dark grey, he almost perfectly melded into the thunderclouds themselves. As he dashed to and fro, wings beating, I saw that what had first identified him as a pony to me - and not a tiny thundercloud - was his mane.

Blue-silver, like the wilder kinds of lightning that I had sometimes seen in books. I watched, wide-eyed, as his wings blurred and he slammed his hind hooves into a straying thundercloud, which was immediately propelled back into the group with a thump.

He was far too far away for me to see his cutie mark, but I assumed that it was related to weather-keeping. Glancing at the stallions, who were now galloping almost desperately as they tried to pass the storm by, I saw that their manes were already dripping a bit.

Then the storm hit. Gales were suddenly blowing, thunder and lightning were cracking in tandem, and rain hammered down like gunfire. I yelped as the carriage buckled and thunder rumbled, and I dove for shelter, shivering under my blankets.

Quite suddenly, the carriage stopped.

Nervously, I poked my head out of the pile of my blankets, and saw that the two stallions had found their path blocked by the stallion in the sky.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, hovering in mid-air with his forelegs crossed and an irritated look on his face. I leaned my head out of habit, and saw that his cutie mark was that of a thundercloud, with a lightning-bolt descending from it.

“Whaddaya want?” snarled one of the stallions.

“Sorry about the hold-up, but this weather isn’t safe for carriage-pullers,” replied the pegasus firmly. “Or carriage-riders,” he added sternly, looking over at me.

The stallions snorted. “Well, how exactly are we gonna get to Ponyville now?” demanded the first carriage-puller.

“There’s a tavern just down the road,” replied the pegasus, pointing. “I’m finished with this month’s big storm, and I’ll be down there having a bit of a drink.”

He tipped the two stallions a wink as he said this, but at the time I had no idea what he was implying. Still, the carriage-pullers suddenly seemed all for a drink, and they began following the pegasus as he led them down the road.

Only a few minutes had passed before we reached the tavern. It was an out-of-the-way place, but sturdy-looking, and made out of wood. I hopped down as the two carriage-pullers brought the carriage to the back, where there were some outdoor shelters for carriages, chariots and the like.

Slightly lost, I nervously followed the pegasus into the tavern, which had a creaky sign above the door that read The Blind Cockatrice. There was a painting of a blindfolded cockatrice beneath it, which I ducked my head under as I entered the tavern.

Inside the Cockatrice, it was crowded and hot. Equestrians of all species were crowded around tables, while deftly-moving pegasi navigated the crowd from the air. The pegasus forced his way through the crowd, while I tentatively followed right behind him.

We eventually got to the bar, where we took a seat each. The unicorn bartender gave us a look, and the pegasus said, “Premium, top-notch Apple Family Cider, if you will.”

“And you?” asked the bartender, giving me a look.

“Um...” I stammered, not knowing how to reply. “Um... er... s-some water... if you would...”

Snorting, the bartender ambled off to get our drinks. The pegasus drummed his hoof casually on the bench top, then casually looked over at me.

“So,” he said, “what’s your name?”

I immediately began stuttering again. “Ah... uh... um... C-Cara... Caramel...”

The pegasus chuckled, and offered a hoof-bump. “Thunderlane.”

I returned the bump weakly, but Thunderlane seemed satisfied. The bartender came with our drinks, and I watched as Thunderlane took a large swig out of the cider bottle, halving its contents as he tossed some bits down on the bar. The bartender’s hoof dashed out, like a snake, and the bits vanished.

“So what brought you out on the road to Ponyville?” asked Thunderlane, as I sipped timidly.

“I, uh, I’m moving,” I replied. “F-from Hoofington.”

Thunderlane nodded. “I’ve been down there, once or twice. Worked on those big storms you had last year.”

I recalled those. “Yeah, I remember. It helped our crops, but I kept getting wet on my way to the forge.”

Thunderlane inclined his bottle to my flanks, which I instinctively covered up with my tail. “Explains your cutie mark.”

“What about yours?” I replied hastily, trying to mimic his movement with my own glass and nearly spilling the contents.

“Storm-making and all the stuff that comes with it,” grinned back Thunderlane. “Killer of a job. Sometimes literally.”

I winced at his sudden honesty. Death was not exactly the hottest of topics in Hoofington.

“So where are you staying in Ponyville?” asked Thunderlane, tossing back his head as he downed the last few gulps in the bottle.

I began to fumble for my papers, then remembered that I had left them in the carriage. “Um... in... in a hotel, I think.”

Thunderlane’s brow wrinkled, then he hazarded, “It wouldn’t be the Horns and Hooves Hotel, would it?”

“That’s the place!” I declared, finishing my glass of water.

“Good place,” said Thunderlane, nodding. “Good rates, good ponies, good rooms. Not anything Canterlotty, but not anything you’d find in the Everfree.”

“Everfree?”

“The Everfree Forest,” explained Thunderlane, and suddenly his expression grew all dark, as if the thunderclouds he controlled had managed to drift across his face. “It’s this giant wood on the edge of Ponyville. They say that the clouds move, the plants grow, and the animals live... all on their own!”

I shuddered. It sounded like an old mares’ tale, but Thunderlane’s expression was so serious that I found myself as scared as I had been when the Tale of the Headless Horse had been told to me.

We talked of happier topics after that, while outside the storm hit and rain battered down, alongside the howling gales. Thunder rumbled ominously, lightning struck, and he two carriage-pullers came in. Thunderlane bought them a great big mug of cider - each. After about three of these they were as drunk as anything, galloping around and bellowing at the top of their voices.

Thunderlane sighed, and shook his head. “Ponyville Rule Number Three: Never drink more than a mug of Apple Family Cider this close to Ponyville.”

“Why?” I asked curiously.

“The stuff gets stronger the closer to Ponyville,” replied Thunderlane, taking another swig from his new bottle. “Sometimes, the Apples are too bucking honest, all proud of their work that they can’t even see when ponies get the worst hangovers this side of Canterlot.”

Thunderlane tipped me a wink and downed his bottle’s contents. “Still, I ain’t complaining.”

I winced as he swore so casually, but my curiosity was now piqued. Who were the Apples? They sounded pretty influential. I asked Thunderlane a few questions, and got the following replies.

“Of course the Apples’re influential! Well, at least in Ponyville. It was the Apples who founded Ponyville in the first place, and they’re our main source of trade and income. Apart from the Cloudsdale Weather Factory,” added Thunderlane proudly, puffing up his chest.

Eventually, it grew late, and the two carriage-pullers collapsed in a drunken wreck in the middle of the floor. I stood around nervously, as per usual, while Thunderlane grabbed the two stallions’ tails in his mouth and dragged them out of the Cockatrice with many a nod and grimace.

Behind the Cockatrice, at the stables, Thunderlane tossed the two stallions into the stable that we were using. They slumped against the carriage and immediately began to snore. Thunderlane scoffed and muttered something inaudible under his breath.

“Weaklings...” I heard him remark quietly as I clambered awkwardly into the carriage.

“Um,” I said, “thank you for the... drinks.”

Thunderlane waved a hoof airily. “No problem, Caramel. Call on me anytime you’re at the Factory - well, you know what I mean. If you see me.”

The storm-coloured stallion chuckled, and I chuckled back. He was turning to go when I was struck by sudden inspiration. Or maybe it was stupidity. I don’t know.

“Thunderlane!” I called out, into the stormy night. “Do you want to stay here for the night?”

The pegasus stopped, and turned around. His mane was already soaked from the rain, but he was grinning broadly as he trotted up to meet me.

“Do I ever!” he grinned as he fluttered to splay himself atop the carriage. “I don’t fancy flying through this storm all the way to Ponyville!”

I grinned back as I settled down in the nest of blankets I had made. I had made a new friend today.

My first friend.