They Rise

      The ground rumbled and rattled, small creatures darting away from the metal rails which cut through the serene and rolling countryside. A billow of smoke and a high shriek announced the presence of the scarlet train as it whistled by, blazing along the railway. It was proud and modern, an aerodynamic and sleek model built for long distance passenger rides. It was the newest in the latest fleets of high-speed passenger trains, another innovative design from workers at Windigo Trains Inc; named for their boast that their trains were as fast as the legendary wind ponies.

It was one of the many new wonders in the new progress-driven Equestria. No longer did a train have to be a hungry beast, fed and nurtured by several large, sweating stallions shoveling coal into the train’s gullet, their watchful eyes glued to the gauges monitoring every detail of the steel monster. Now, crystals infused with magic enchantments combined with fuel imported from Saddle Arabia. Together they pushed the train through valleys and mountain and cities at incredible speeds that left a taste of awe in the mouths of ponies it passed by.

As the train chugged along, the engine driver sipped an aromatic cup of coffee as he blithely rambled to a young worker who had the misfortune of ending up in the room just as the aging stallion felt compelled to regale a crowd with stories of his youth.

“And let me tell ya, back in the ol’day, Buffalo tribes were ruthless. They’d run a train off her tracks and stampede until it was scrap metal. And the sneaky ones! Ah, the moment they sniffed out anything of value, the hairy buggers would whoop and shout and cause a commotion- distracting the whole train. And that was the point, a diversion you see. They’d send some young warrior to unlatch the desired carriage and before you knew it- BAM, they were laughing and howling while they carried off treasure, or cars of young mares never heard from again, the filthy-“

“Sir?”

The old, beige stallion blinked at looked down at the young worker, whose ears flicked to the side nervously. The engine driver coughed, disgruntled at the interruption.

“Well. Ah suppose the truces made with the tribes have…settled such scores. Those days have been long gone. But still, it could happen. Anytime those Buffalo got bored or unsettled, Ah’m telling you. It’s why a good train worker never sleeps on the job-“

A sharp knock cut in on the engineer’s lecture. The graying pony stamped his hoof in annoyance, irritated at the second break in his soap box. “Yep?”

Without hesitation, the door swung open and the slender conductor trotted in, levitating a clipboard and a pen beside her.

“I’ve come to check on our itinerary progress and-“ Her steely gaze shot to the younger stallion. “What are you doing here, baggage pony?”

“Ah- I was just. Just-“

“Oh leave him alone Crisp Note, he was just keeping an old pony company.”

Crisp Note bristled underneath her uniform. This situation did not fit her standards of a perfect train operation. The old engineer raised an eyebrow.

“If ya like, he can leave. Just hope this ol’ pony by himself doesn’t fall asleep at the wheel…Be mighty embarrassing.”  A mischievous glint shone in his eyes as he watched the flustered conductor go from her clipboard, to the greying stallion, and back.

“Well.” She glared at the pair disapprovingly. “If. I suppose. If the driver insists-“

“Ah do.” The engineer smiled, at the unicorn, who snorted. Crisp Note looked at her clipboard, lips pressed against her teeth impatiently. The pale stallion merely looked out the window at the horizon which reddened as the sun dipped down past the valleys and mountains.

“Ah’m happy to report that we are ahead of schedule. You tell the ponies in the engine room to keep her going at this pace; we’ll reach Las Pegasus before the sun rises.”

The answer seemed to lighten the expression of the conductor’s face, and she scribbled down the note dutifully.

“Delightful. Being ahead of schedule is always preferable. I’ll have dinner brought to you…and your friend at six.”

“Wonderful.”

The conductor gave the worker one last glare and then stalked out of the room. Silence filled the air for several moments. Finally, the driver glanced over at the younger pony and smiled.

“What’s your name, son?”

“My friends call me Dusty.”

“Dusty, eh?” The driver concentrated, as though committing the name to memory. “Well then Dusty, you’re free to go. I know you must have things to do other than let an old pony rant on.”

Dusty hesitated, looking over at the driver. The old timer’s rambles had alarmed the young earth pony, but after the conductor’s appearance, the driver seemed much more tolerable. Endearing even. Besides, he didn’t want to run into the high strung conductor. He hopped up into the seat beside the engineer and looked out at the beautiful desert scenery.

“Do you have any good stories about Buffalo?” He asked. The old stallion’s eyes crinkled into a smile.

“I do. There’s an old Buffalo tale about the stars. They say that when the world was made, the stars grew jealous of the life that flourished in our beautiful land. But the Maker had trapped them in the night sky, sewn in like jewels in an endless tapestry. So the stars could only watch our lands grown and change and prosper. Unable to do anything but watch, the stars grew hateful and cold in their envy.”

“I thought you said this was a good story.” Dusty commented wryly. The driver glanced at him.

“It is a good story. Those Buffalo knew damn well how to spin a good yarn.” The pair looked out at the darkening sky, where stars began to peek out. “Even now the Buffalo say that the stars struggle against their bindin’, so that one day the stars might fall down to our world, and take it for their own.”

Dusty shivered, remembering stories his grandpappy told him on Nightmare Nights long ago.

“Aren’t there stories that say stars helped Nightmare Moon escape her prison?” He asked in a small voice.

The driver laughed loudly.  “It’s a campfire story, my colt. Nothing more.”

The train drove on through the desert, chug-a-chugging away. Silently, the stars watched from above, glaring down at the world below. The moon, though fuller and brighter than all the stars in the sky looked like a captive, a prisoner, surrounded by cold angry stars. Quietly, unseen by ponies, birds or beasts, the first star winked out.