McIntosh Apple was enjoying the day. It was his day to handle the Apple stand in the Ponyville market, so he had gotten up before dawn and eaten a hearty but simple breakfast of plain oats. He had loaded the family stand cart full of the bounty of their farm, then hitched himself up and walked toward the market. He had watched Celesita's sun rise through the leaves of his apple trees, inhaling the scents of leaves, bark, ripe fruit, damp grass, and road dust. The quiet crunch of iron rims on gravel was leavened by the occasional twittering song of an early bird. The lane was dappled and the beams of warm light felt good as they slid along his back, contrasting with the dawn chill.
He soon arrived at the market, giving a nod to the other vendors as he approached his niche. Most of the morning activity belonged to the produce vendors, bringing in their fresh fruits and vegetables from the scattered farms while the weather was still cool. The sundry dry goods merchants tended to take their time, thought McIntosh with a hint of disapproval. Still, he mused as he tapped the cart with a rear hoof causing it to spring open into its produce stand configuration, perhaps the delay was more due to the unwritten rules of the market. The morning hubbub was for the farmers to sell their delicacies to the restauranteurs, while those more interested in tools and trinkets took their turn later in the day.
He nodded back in response to a cheery good morning from Carrot Top and stepped around the stand to begin setting out the best of today's selection of apples on the front of the cart. Settling into a patient stance, he surveyed the growning stream of ponies maneuvering intently through the market. Chef Toque was going from stand to stand, probably looking for inspiration for today's menu. Other chefs and bakers were loading up their saddlebags and negotiating larger orders. McIntosh's eyes widened as he watched Toque almost trip over a mare that had wandered up behind him. The two danced around each other, curtly appologied, and quickly moved on, neither one apparently interested in dwelling on a mishap that hadn't actually happened.
McIntosh watched the mare totter off. As she turned, he recognized the purple mare as his sister's friend Miss Twilight Sparkle. She was looking rather disheveled, he thought, with her mane rather frizzed about the edges. She was stumbling occasionally, and McIntosh was startled into concern as she almost walked into another pony. Again, brief appologies were exchanged and Miss Twilight wandered off in another direction. McIntosh noticed she didn't seem to have a destination in mind as she wandered distractedly throught the bustle of the market. He hoped she was doing alright. He hoped one of her friends would find her and help her out; she looked like she needed some support. If he saw anyone, he'd definitely mention it. Though, come to think of it, it was quite early, certainly earlier than he usually saw her friends.
McIntosh watched as Miss Twilight's course veered to the side again. She was facing his stand now, and he saw that her eyes looked dazed and had dark bags under them. She seemed to recognize the Apple family stand, though, and she perked up a little at the sight. She marched over to the cart, avoiding a near miss and only drifting lightly to the right. McIntosh felt better that at least now she was out of traffic.
"Morning, Miss Twilight," he said laconicly.
"Oh, good morning, Big Mac," she said with cheer that sounded somewhat forced.