Prologue
The sky was mottled dark grey and blue, thick shadowed clouds hanging low over the ground. A light rain fell over the city, as a gentle wind pushed the raindrops at an angle and pulled the cavernous clouds towards the east. The last vestiges of of sunlight were invisible through the dense clouds, save as an early twilight that descended over the area like a warm, albeit slightly damp, blanket.
Between two of the buildings in the nicer area of town, a dim white light began to softly flash. Soon, a faint thrumming began to fill the air, growing louder as the light grew in both size and intensity. A blue box materialized, the light fading away. There was a solid thump from the box, then the door opened.
A white-coated colt looked out at the street, on which some cars were still driving by. Perhaps they were carrying ponies home from work, or maybe to enjoy a night out on the town. The colt looked up at the looming stormclouds, and wrinkled his nose. The doors closed for a moment, before reopening to let the colt out. He’d put on a black and grey rain-jacket, and stepped out into the misty drizzle. After closing the door behind him, he set off down the sidewalk of the street.
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Macintosh Apple scuffed his hoof against the sidewalk unhappily. He’d managed to bomb another test, and his teacher had absolutely insisted that he stay behind and review every single question he’d missed with him. He growled unhappily, then sighed. The teacher had only been trying to help, he supposed. But the real problem behind all this was that he had to spend so much time helping on the farm that he didn’t have much time to study. Not nearly enough.
He turned onto the town’s main street, heading towards the bus stop where he planned get a ride back out to the farm. It was that, or walk nearly ten miles. And though he enjoyed a long walk as much as anypony, his hooves were still hurting from that day’s P.E. class, and he didn’t want to get lost in the dark. He was just reminiscing on the repeated tackles he’d gotten during the so called “flag” hoofball game, courtesy of the school’s head jock, Shining Armor, when he ran into something warm and just a bit smaller than himself. He just had time to register the object as another pony before they fell in a tangled heap of legs and tails.
“Sorry!” he said, trying to untangle himself from the other pony. “Sorry sorry sorry!”
“It’s fine.” said the other pony, whose voice allowed Macintosh to identify him as either a colt or a stallion.
It turned out to be the former, when he managed to get up. The colt was about his age, had a white coat, a dark blue mane, and bright green eyes. He was wearing a dark green flannel shirt similar to Macintosh’s under a black and grey rain-jacket. He was a pegasus, wings attached to his shoulders, and his feathers were a bit ruffled from their collision.
“Are ya okay?” Macintosh asked nervously, while mentally scolding himself for not looking where he was going.
“Yeah.” the colt said, shaking his head as though to clear it. “You?”
“Oh, uh… a-ah’m alright.”
There was an awkward pause, as they stared at each other.
“Um…” Macintosh cast about for something to say, then pointed across the street. “Well, uh, there’s a diner over there, if ya want ta clean up.”
The colt looked in the direction Macintosh had indicated.
“Okay.” he said. “Well… what’s your name?”
“Macintosh. Macintosh Apple.” He hesitated a moment, then tentatively extended a hoof. The colt shook it. “But ya can just call me Mac. Um… what’s yer name?”
“North.” the colt said. “North Star.” He tilted his head in the direction of the diner. “Shall we go clean ourselves up?”
“Alright.”
They walked across the street to the diner, which Mac knew stayed open later than most of the other restaurants on the block. Mac held the door open for North, feeling it was only polite since he’d crashed into him. Mac nodded to the stallion at the counter, who smiled and nodded back. They knew each other, since Mac often stopped by after school to study. They went into the bathroom, where the proceeded to wash off the dirt and mud they’d picked up from their fall. Once they’d dried off their hooves, they exited.
“Want something to drink?” asked North. “Coffee? Hot Chocolate?”
“Why’re ya askin’?” Mac asked, confused. He’d just ran this stallion over. Why was he offering to buy him a drink?
“Just wondered if you were thirsty.” North said, glancing down at his hooves. “Are you?”
“A bit.” he admitted.
“Which I will take as a yes.”
North walked up to the counter, a bewildered Mac following behind.
“What can I do ya for?” asked the stallion behind the counter cheerfully.
“One hot chocolate, and…” North looked over at Mac, and raised an eyebrow.
“Ah’ll have one s’well.” said Mac, addressing the stallion, who nodded.
North paid him, then they went to wait nearby. Now that his mind had calmed down, Mac was better able to examine North. He was wearing a cheerful half-smile, but he had a tired look about him, with dark circles under his eyes.
“Trouble sleeping?” he asked, and North looked over at him.
“Yeah.” he said. “A lot of long nights, too.”
“Ah understand.”
North nodded, then went back to watching cars drive by outside. Once they’d collected their drinks, they went to sit at a window table. The hot chocolate was too hot to drink, so Mac again turned his attention to North.
“Where’re ya from?” he asked. North had a light accent, one that he couldn’t recognize.
“Coltlumbia.” said North, who then blew the steam away from his mug. “Near it, anyway.”
“Huh. What’s it like there?”
“Not that different. It gets really hot in the summer, but the winters are pretty mild.” North turned his mug slightly, so the handle pointed towards the window. “You from around here? Or did you move here from somewhere else?”
“Born’n raised here. Mah family’s got a farm a ways outside a town.”
“Anything in particular you grow, or take care of?”
“It’s an apple farm.” Mac indicated his cutie mark.
“Ah.” North nodded. “Hence the last name.”
They chatted for a while, drinking occasionally from their mugs. North was easy for Mac to talk to, which was surprising since he’d only just met him. After a while, he was able to figure out what North’s accent was, and it wasn’t Southern. It was English, with a hint of Trottish. It wasn’t every word that it was noticeable, which suggested that he’d picked it up, and wasn’t actually himself from Great Britain.
When Mac finally glanced at the clock, he yelped in alarm.
“Ah should’a been home half’n hour ago!” He looked back at North. “Ah’m real sorry, but ah’ve really got ta go.”
“It’s okay.” said North.
“Thanks for the drink, and the conversation.” Mac stood. “See ya later.”
North nodded, smiling. “Bye.”
Mac took his mug back to the counter, then exited the diner. He walked quickly to the bus stop, and scanned the schedule. The next bus was due in two minutes.
When it arrived, he climbed aboard, paid the driver, then got into a seat near the middle of the bus. As the bus began to pull away, he spotted North walking down a small side-street. North saw him, and waved. Mac waved back, then North was out of sight.
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When the bus arrived at the stop closest to the farm, he departed. Walking quickly, he made for the gates, which were a ways down the road. When he got there, he pushed them open and trotted as quickly as he could up the dirt path. When the farmhouse was visible, he saw that the lights were still on in the kitchen.
He unlocked the door, and entered. Little Applejack was surely asleep by now, but he wasn’t so sure about his Granny. He got an answer to this question the moment he stepped into the living room, which was lit by the gentle light of several flickering candles. Granny Smith was seated on her old wooden rocker, which squeaked gently as she tilted back and forward. She was reading from one of her old books, the kind that have solid-color cloth covers.
“Granny?” he said, catching her attention.
“Well, hello Mac.” she said cheerily. “How was yer day?”
“Alright.” he said. “Ah had ta stay behind at school fer a while.”
“‘S okay sugarcube. Why don’t ya go ahead’n eat her supper.”
“Um…” Mac was confused by the complete lack of concern that he’d been out so late. “Aren’... aren’ ya wonderin’ why ah was later’n usual tonight?”
“Yer old enough now ta be out at night.” She gave him a toothy grin. “Was it a mare?”
Mac wrinkled his muzzle. “Granny!”
“Well?”
“No.” he said decisively. “I just had a cup of hot chocolate at the diner with some’n ah met today.”
“A colt.” he added, when Granny Smith kept giving him that knowing smile.
“If ya say so dear. Ya’ll go ahead’n get yerself ready fer bed.”
“Okay.”
He took his backpack to his room upstairs, then went back down to the kitchen. After he’d eaten, he went to shower. He discarded his shirt in the laundry basket outside the door, then went inside.
Afterward, he headed to bed. Crawling under the comfortably worn covers after a long day was great, and he was more than content to curl up under them. He laid his head on his pillow, and was asleep almost instantly.
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North opened the door into the blue box, and stepped through. He closed and locked it behind him, and walked up a metal ramp to a large, glass column. It was surrounded by an array of strange looking controls, which varied from a bicycle tire pump to an old typewriter. He flipped a few switches and threw a lever, and lights flashed on in the room. Then he went over to a doorway in the side of the room.
A few minutes later, he was in a small bedroom, where he promptly collapsed onto the bed. He groaned, and flipped onto his back. He stretched out his wings, and went limp. After a few minutes staring at the ceiling, he forced himself to stand, and go shower. When he came back, he’d removed the jacket and shirt he’d been wearing. He dragged himself onto the bed, and somehow managed to get under the covers. He waved a hoof several times in the direction of the lightswitch, then sighed.
“Computer.” he mumbled into the pillow. “Lights… out.” There was a chirp, then the lights in the room switched off. “Thank you.”
He curled up on the bed, gazing at the empty space next to him. After a while, he drifted off into a light sleep.
