The dust swept over the valley, as the wagons rolled over the rock infested road. A broken wagon sits on the side, it’s contents exposed under the beating sun.
“Alright boys! You two lift and I’ll get this here wheel set in.”
“Will do pa!” his two son’s said in unison, each taking a side of the downed wagon.
As the three worked on broken wagon, two mare’s sit under the little tent safe the harmful sun. The little filly snuggles next to the older mare.
“Ma! I wanna go home,” the filly complained. The wizened mare nuzzles her daughter into a quite stupor.
“Shh! It’ll be all right sweetie,” she hums an old tune as the filly closes her eyes slowly falling asleep. The mare smiles, but the smile fades as she looks towards the distance. A bellowing cloud of smoke rises in the distance, as the once lush green mountains, are covered in ash like snow.
“We’ll be all right,” she whispers to the sleeping filly.
“Has anypony seen ma traveling bonnet!” asked the old mare.
“Isn’t that it on your head?” asked a small filly.
The old mare looks up to the flower patterned red bonnet. She glares at the small filly sitting in the wagon, “Nooo!”
“It looks an awful like, lik...”
“Well, it ain’t! And that’s final.” Stated the mare with a stomp.
Her young granddaughter looks to her older brother. A perplexed look adorned on their faces.
Though in a matter of seconds their thoughts were drowned out by their sisters proclamation.
“Ma! Ya sure I can’t just cut ma hair,” the green filly moaned as dust blow into her braided mane.
“Ann Smith! How many times do I have to tell yah,” her mother complained from her daughters constant objection. “do ya want ta look ah colt for Celestia’s sake”
“I’d rather look like a colt than have ta clean and braid ma hair again!” Ann grumbled, while her brothers held back their laughter at their sister’s distress.
Her mother looks at the filly noticing strands of her mane frizzling with dirt encrusting her golden mane. She sighs knowing that her daughter was right, she watches her daughter heads to the pool of water. The first signs of relief they’ve seen in days.
She reaches into the parked wagon, shifting through the various trunks and bags until finding the one chest holding what her daughter needed. A smile adorns her face as she observes the item in her hooves. She waits around their measly gathering of food, for her daughters return.
The jalopy rolls down the dusty road, the mighty stallion pulls the lead, it’s occupants signing down the forested path. The wagon runs over a small rock, as the ponies reach the ending of their merry song.
The jalopy’s wheels fell apart as the over barren wagon lays flat on the ground. The elder siblings, held their tongues in front of supposedly family member. Their smiles a forced indication of their emotions held back, like a pair of viper's and mongoose's facing off.
The elder mare wobbles to the sugar sap tree, hatching a plan from the Pink mare's suggestion to ride the river to their destination.
“Give me back ma bonnet!” Yelled the little green filly.
The gang of squirrels jump the edges of trees, a red laced bonnet held in the leaders mouth. The leader of the little gang of miscreants, jumps onto a branch. The twig snaps under the combined weight of the little heathen.
He looks to the sky the white clouds and blue sky a beautiful sight.
Thump! the little squirrel opens it’s beady eyes and stares into the orange eyes of an angry filly. The young mare takes the crumbled hat and with a flick of her head lands the bonnet with practiced ease. The little rodent squirms under her gaze, as a smile adorns her face. Grabbing hold of the hat thief, she plasters him on the side of a tree. It's sticky sap was like a quagmire, entrapping the little rascal in a cocoon of sap.
“That should teach ya!” The filly scorned. “Trying to take ma!”
What once was beat up jalopy was now a boat on the mighty neississippi river. It's destination being directed by the lost travelers. The wizened mare takes control of the helm steering the boat into a dark cave.
As they enter the darkened cave, screams echoed through the walls. Monsters from the dark of ones nightmares, watch as the group of frightened ponies stare and scream. Though periodic flash from a camera blinded most of these cave dwellers, none were really harmed by the Pink mare’s antics.
A monster with many arms stares at his gargoyle friend , and shrugs. He lifts a basket and spreads the contents on top of the mushroom like table.
“So how are the kids.” The gargoyle asked, while screams reverberated through the cave.
“Must have went down the falls,” the monster with many arms stated as he took a sip of tea.
“Whad ya say about ma hat!” Ann Smith yelled, as she cornered the yellow stallion.
“I just ah....said ya...”
“Said what now!” Her voice was low and threatening. Her brilliant orange eyes were like daggers stabbing into his soul.
“I said ya looked mighty proper in tha...” He never finished as the filly backs off. Turning around she rears her hind hooves, ramming them into his barrel.
The young stallion was bucked into the apple tree, the force of the blow knocking the fruit laden tree. As the apples fell the mare watches as her bountiful crop fall to the ground.
She stares at the fallen fruit and the ladder next to the tree. Adjusting her bonnet she moves baskets next to another fruit laden tree. Rearing up again she slams her rear hooves against the brown trunk.
The fruit fall into the baskets, a smile adorns the fillys face.
“There ya are!” Ann smiled, as she lifts the moth eaten bonnet. What once was bright dark red hat, was now a lightish red from the bleaching of time.
“Wha ya still looked good as new!” The aged mare observed worn down hat, patches adorned its side. The dirt brown lace a far cry from the once pristine white.
“Why a little stitch here and there will fix ya right up.” She places the bonnet next to the freshly taken picture. One that sits upon a table laden with many other relics of the past. One she will...
“Granny!” A shrill voice was heard past the closed door. A little filly pushes the oaken door open, the sound of grinding metal a clear indication of much needed oil. “Granny quick! Pinkies gonna start her party soon!”
The filly starts to lead the old mare out the door.
“Hold yer oats Applebloom, let me just put away ma...” She stares at the old bonnet and at the young filly. A smile creeps upon her face, “ya know what sugercube lets get going before Big Mac eats all those pies you an pinkie made.”
“Yay!” the filly gleefully hops around the old mare as she slowly makes her way to the party.
