“Food? N-No, wait, meal! Dinner?” Fiddle guesses. I facepalm and reach again for the notebook. After jotting a quick thing down, I present it to her.

*C’mon, Fiddle, this is the fourth time...*

“‘Xcuse me in not being a master at reading ‘feengers.’” She replies mockingly.

I’ve spent all of yesterday evening teaching her how we could communicate without writing everything down. We both agreed that it’s tiring, and boring. I had remembered how to use sign language to communicate after I was counting with my fingers last night.

Also I noted that Fiddle is quite dedicated, and a very, very fast learner. She picked up the basics of sign language within a few hours of teaching her. She has trouble with a couple of words though, like ‘flying’ and ‘fate.’ She has still much to learn, but hey, so do I.

We also discussed about keeping my intelligence hidden. She said there might be an issue with scientific figures in the “royal scene” if word got out. Right now, it really seems like this little pony needs someone for company, so I don’t want to do anything to take that away from her.

“Hmnn… Eat?”

I nod with a smile.

“Ooh, how did I forget that one!” She bangs her head with her hoof.

Doesn’t that hurt? Hooves tend to be pretty hard.

I slowly sign out a few words to say, *Do you think you have this?*

“Do… you… think… you… have… this...” She repeats each word. “You betcha.”

*So are we ready to leave?* I sign out with a little more speed.

“Even’f I wasn’t, we NEED to go. If I don’t get a permit for you soon, and the sheriff finds out, you’ll be put down.”

Geh…

“Are you ready to leave?” Her big sky blue eyes give me a stern stare-down.

*Ready as I will ever be* I reply.

With that, she hops off the bed and trots for her hat. I sit up from the cage I was sitting on, and pop my back a few times.

Nnnh~ … Damn. Nothin’ like a good minefield in your back.

Fiddle makes her way out of her room and into the hall. I follow close behind her, still haven’t explored her house. Feels rude to do that without permission anyhow. As we walk exit the hall and enter the living room, I see that… there’s really nothing here. Obviously the left side of the house is meant for a kitchen, considering all of those wall and ceiling shelves. The right side of this small empty room would probably be a living room. Nothing’s living in it though.

“Oh… one last thing… I need to put a collar ‘round your neck so other ponies see your mine, and not some stray human in the middle of town. … D’oh, c’mon, now. Don’t give me that look.”

My face consists of two squinting eyes, my mouth hung open retardedly, and my palm facing the sky.

“Speaking on facial expressions, remember not to show any emotions… humans here don’t. And you prolly don’t wanna reveal yourself by smirkin’ at a pony who tripped over or somethin’.”

Giving a nod of understanding, she turns and heads towards the kitchen. She fumbles through a cabinet on the opposite side of a small bar table that cuts the kitchen in two sections. She takes something out.

Really?

“Sorry if this is uncomfortable, fella, but it’s all I have right now...” She trots back to me with a two-inch thick old rope. Maybe 7 feet long.

She motions with her free hoof to come down. With no resistance, I get down on one knee, and our eyes are leveled with each other’s. She does quick work of making a noose big enough to fit my head through, and she tosses it on me like she just wrangled a bull.

“It fits you, fella.” She giggles.

*Don’t push it* I sign with a mildly annoyed expression.

“Ahem… right. Time to head out.”

That said, she opens the creaky old door that exits her house, and the sun shines brightly down on us.

Damn sun… go away.

The noose around my neck-- … “collar” around my neck tugs on me. After my eyes readjust, I see that Fiddle had already exited and is a few paces ahead of me. I lean down a bit to get out of the doorframe with my forehead intact, and we start to walk towards the town.

It’s not too far away. Maybe a three minute walk and we’re there. I see that the town is aligned in a T shape. Buildings facing each other parallel to form the body of the T, and the top portion is aligned with buildings that appear to be jails and offices of some sort. Other than the annoyingly hot sun, lack of vegetation, ass-ton of old or dying trees, and creaking buildings, I can see why might some folk call this place home.

Walking closer to the town, I see ponies go about in their own business. Many of them wearing these adorably weird cowboy hats, vests or shirts, and gear belts. Looks weird when you think about it.

That mustn't be the only thing looking weird because as we approach the town, ponies are already giving me eyeballs. Stares that say, “Ooh, look! A doggie!”

“Almost there, fella… sheriff’s office is but a lick away.” Fiddle says quietly.

I see that we’re walking towards a more sturdy looking structure, and it has a rather big wooden star engraved onto the front of the building’s wall. Also, metal bars surround the windows. Looks almost like a jail.

We make our way up the crooked steps to the sheriff’s saloon doors, and Fiddle holds them open with her wings. It’s kinda odd how she can use her wings as extra limbs. I can see that being pretty useful from time to time. She tugs me in with the “collar,” and I stumble right behind her.

I see two big jail cells that take up half of the room inside this building, and one pony is sitting inside the right cage. He’s tinkering with something, but I can’t see what it is. The pony is strange-looking. Kind of skinny in frame, and his mane is disheveled. He smells like beer too.

“Eh-hem.”

I hear someone clear their throat. Certainly didn’t sound like Fiddle, too masculine. Turning my head, I see a pony sitting in a fancy-looking desk in the corner of the room. He’s chewing a strand of hay, and he’s staring at me… not even at Fiddle, at me.

“T-Top of the mornin’ Sheriff.” Fiddle stumbles to say. Judging by her lack of composure, she doesn’t meet 'n' greet very often.

“Mornin’, young’n. I can see what brings you here. What does it need? Permit?” The sheriff’s grizzly, fatherly tone seems familiar.

“Y-Yessir. Permit. H-How much will it b--”

“Ah, don’t worry yourself, miss Faddle. No charge… unless you wanna pay hundred bits for one, sure.” The sheriff interrupts Fiddle before she finishes.

“N-N-No! I-I’m dandy! Thank you ver’ much, sheriff… you’re too kind.” Fiddle’s ear lay on her head, and she looks over to me, smiling a little bit. I keep my unfazed look in place, staring at her, then at the wall.

“Righty-o. Let’s see if he passes the tests to be certified...”

The sheriff lazily rocks himself off his chair and begins to walk towards me. As he stands but inches from me, his head only reaches up to my upper belly. Actually, he’s quite tall for a pony. From what I’ve seen, at least.

I stare at him, face blank and dull. He takes a step to the left, and another to right. My eyes follow him, wondering what kind of “test” this is. He then raises a hoof up to my face. He then puts his hoof on my chest. Force coming from his hoof, he pushes me back hard enough to stumble me. I quickly recover and stare at him again, kind of annoyed.

“Hmm. Certainly a very passive one. Bunch’a humans usually fail that part. This one didn’t do much as react to contact or force. Where’d you find this guy?” The sheriff turns his attention to my small yellow friend.

“I-- he… Um… I found him… in the desert… he was dehydrated and looked ill. S-So I took him in.” Fiddle plays with her mane as she explains.

“Found ‘em, ey?” The sheriff scrutinizes me. “That’s one hell’ova dangerous thing to do, miss Faddle. You’re lucky this one’s so easy going, or it’d be a problem.”

“U-Understood, sheriff. I assure you aplenty, he won’t bother anypony!” Fiddle swings her hoof positively in a upside-down arc.

“Right.” The sheriff slowly walks back to his desk and takes a square piece of paper out. He then takes the quill atop of his desk and dips it in a ink well. He then writes on the paper, quill in mouth. “Here ya’ are.” He comes over and gives the paper to Fiddle. Must be the permit.

“Nngh.” I groan as something stamps my head. I see that the sheriff stamped a happy face in blue ink on my forehead. Fiddle giggles a little, and I look at her. She immediately stops, holding in another chuckle.

“Scurry on now, young’n. And keep that human well kept. Remember, animals abuse is against the law”

“Animal abuse is against the law” ebleblebleh! I mock him in thought.

Fiddle tips her cowboy hat to the sheriff, and he returns the gesture of respect. We exit through the swinging doors, and back into the town. Now I see more ponies going about, some hauling small wagons with ores, vegetables, tools, and all other types assorted items. These ponies are all so hardworking and dedicated… man, the people back home should really take a page from these guy’s book. Lot of lazy-asses back home… myself included.

“Mmkay, fella, I’mma need to get to work in a little. We’re gonna head home and I’ll be back in a few hours… hopefully with some food enough for both of us.” She speaks with her gaze locked to mine.

We start to walk back home, this time with heads a little higher than before. That’s one obstacle already removed. I’ve met two ponies so far, and both of them pleasures to be around. Maybe this place isn’t that bad. Well, not bad when you’re not stuck in the middle of a friggin’ nowhere and actually in civilization. Maybe it was a Godsend that I didn’t get stuck a town of bears or something that wouldn’t mind having me as dinner. Can all animals talk here? Obviously humans can’t… bullshit. But what about all the others? Like rabbits? Birds? Deer maybe?

Coming down from my train of thought, I notice we’re already home. That was considerably faster than before. Fiddle pushes her door open, and holds it open for me. I walk through.

*Huh, shouldn’t I be holding the door for you?* I smile.

“Shouldn’t you is caring door for you?” She asks, tilting her head as she enters.

Heh.

I shake my head and sign again, slowly this time. She studies my hand movements closely.

“Ooooh. Funny, you.” She smiles at me and walks down the hall to her room.

“Makes yourself comfy, Jame,” She calls from her room down to me in the ‘living room,’ “I’ll be back before you know it! And don’t worry about ponies knocking… nopony ever comes here anyway.”

… Damn. That’s… depressing…

I see her trot back a minute later in a some sort of cowgirl get-up and a nicer hat than she was previously wearing. Her outfit consisted of a rather nice vest with a long sleeve plaid shirt under, and some slacks. She looks… rather nice. Huh.

“You take care of yourself. Don’t run off. Make sure the blinds of the windows are down if you’re gonna do any monkey-business, and please don’t--”

*Okay, mom. I understand.* I gesture over dramatically.

“... Okay… okay. I’m goin’ now.” She smiles and heads out the door, closing it behind her, and locking it.

I mean, it’s not like you can’t bust the door down. It’s so fragile and weak, you could just punch it off its hinges.

The small home floods of silence, and I’m left standing there in the middle of the living room with nothing to do.

Weeelp… Let’s explore shall we?

I look down the hallway and into Fiddle’s room…

… I don’t want to be rude neither. Going through a girl’s stuff is a surefire way to get your ass kicked.

Who cares. S’long as I ain’t stealing, right?

I walk down the hall towards her room, ducking under the small door frame. I get a good look around her room again… and it’s probably the most well kept part of her house. Not talking about the physical architecture of course. The floor creaks, the roof’s coming off, the walls are pretty much falling over, and there’s plenty of little cracks in the boards where little bastards can crawl in and bite you while you sleep. Reminds me of how my old hut used to be before we built our new home.

Something inside me feels a bit heavy, and deep pity fills my heart. Letting out a sigh, I come up with an idea.

Money's a problem. So, it’s the least I could do. Let’s see…

I look around the room for anything useful, my attention draws towards the small cabinet next to the cage where the key was. I take a few steps to get it and I crouch down.Opening the drawer, I smile.

Perfect… but. Its handle's kinda falling apart. Just a little.

I take out a rather humorously small axe that’s in poor condition. One swing of this thing would probably break it into pieces. Nothing I can’t repair, though. I stand up and walk towards the window above Fiddle’s bed. Looking out of it, I see the mountains and several trees outside her home. The trees look like they’re ready for winter, in the middle of the summer.

Mmm. I hope I ain’t lucked out.

I walk out of Fiddle’s room and towards the living room. I poke my head out the window and see if there’s any passer-bys. Nothing? Good. Opening the creaky old door with care, I exit the house and into the beating sun. It’s actually cooler out here than it is in the house. Geeze.

Makes my way behind the house and over to the trees several meters out from Fiddle’s home.

AH, FFF-- NNH!

I hop off my left foot in pain, and hold it with my free hand that isn’t holding the axe. A nice three inch long thorn stuck right up the heel of my foot, sitting there proudly in its new home.

… Alright, you little shit. You’re coming out the easy way, or the easy way.

I take my index and thumb fingers and latch onto the head of the menace. I pull on it, and my skin comes with it.

“Ggh-- gnhh, errrhhh!” I rumble out as I pull the thing out of me. I tend to forget how much these things actually hurt until I step on one.

“AAAHN… Mmmn...” I manage to pull it out with a little bit of blood stuck to its major point. I lean down and dig up a hole in the dirt, placing the spear of death inside and burying it back up.

Never come back, you hear?

I haul myself back up without using my left foot, and I start to hop over to the tree field again. Considering there isn’t too many weeds to hide the little claymores, it’s easy to avoid stepping on them. There really isn’t too many either, I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

After a few moments of inconspicuous hopping behind Fiddle’s house, I make it to a tree. The closest one to her home.

Good?

I feel the tree’s bark, squeeze it, and lightly punch it.

Good. At least one thing’s still right.

I look up and study the tree’s branches. Some are nice and thick, good for a swing, other are thin enough to slice water. I put my left hand above my head and use my right foot to push myself off the ground, making good enough air to grasp a thick branch. I hang there for a little before using my abdomen to swing my legs up to the branch, hanging there like a chimp. I flip myself over to get atop of the branch, and I sit there, catching my breath.

Am I really this outta shape? Man. That’s pathetic.

I set the axe down between my thighs and look up at the thinner branches of the tree. I spot a perfect candidate that could be used as a fibre. I use my glutes to hop up a few inches and catch the branch, pulling down on it until it comes off and into my hands. It’s about 5 feet long and no thicker than an inch. I look down at the axe and measure its size compared with the branch. Considering I was right about the branch’s measurements, the baby axe is about three feet long. I guess small tools for small ponies.

I cut off two 2 foot long pieces of the branch, leaving one foot of branch remaining. I couple the fibres on each side of the axe’s handle, and I cut the last foot of branch in half. I tie them around the handle to act as two constraints. I don’t remember where I learned to tie a super-tight knot, but I still know how to do it. I’m not complaining.

I take the axe into hand and grip it well, feeling the handle.

Seems stable now. These trees are like bamboo. Never seen them before. Don’t look like bamboo though. I mean, bamboo doesn’t really grow in the middle of a damn desert. And it isn’t a tree. More of a long stem.

The stone of the axe is still in decent condition, and it looks like it can cut. It was just the handle that might of caused an issue. I look down at the thick branch I’m sitting on, and firmly grasp the axe. I lift it up, and bring it down with a cause, cutting a decent sized gap into the thick branch. This thing can surely cut… it’s stuck. Damn it.

Prying it out of the branch, the axe finally breaks its hug with the tree’s limb.

… Alrighty. Time to get to work.

~~~~~~<

I let the wood roll off my arms with a deep sigh, onto the floor of Fiddle’s storage room with off of those empty boxes. I had thought they were filled with goods or something. Just a dusty old room that hasn’t been entered in… years maybe. Even the door knob was dusty. Perfect hiding spot for all of this damn wood. I don’t want her to find out what I have planned for her. I hear a door creak open in the living room.

SHIT, SHE’S HOME. GOTTA GO, GOTTA GO!

I quickly dust myself off and tippie-toe out of the storage room, closing the door and hopping into her room. Stealthily opens up the drawer where I had found the axe, and I set it in, closing the drawer.

“Hey’a, fella. I’m back!” A sleepy-eyed, mane disheveled, clothes wrinkled Fiddle walks in the doorframe with her violin in one hoof, and a grocery bag hanging on her right wing.

*You look bad.* I use simple terms to make sure she understands.

“... Rough night… Good thing is, I got three performances tonight… yaaay me!” She drops her violin and set the grocery bag on top of the steel cage. She crawls onto her bed, and lays motionless.

Gosh. Poor thing.

I walk over to her and gently poke her shoulder. She lets out a quiet snore.

Out cold already…

Looks over at the single bag of groceries. Hops over to it, and holds it open with my hands. I see a carton of eggs and a can of… what is that? I pick it up and read the label. Ooh? Frijoles? Don’t mind if I do! This girl knows simple eating, but good eating. This is what I used to eat as a child since it was the only thing my family could afford at the time. I can’t really fathom the fact that these equines live similarly to humans. It’s… weird. Like, it’s just something I can’t really grasp.

More snores sound off from the sleeping horse. Pony. Thing. Still don’t really know what to call these things. They call themselves ponies, but I just don’t see the resemblance. Except from their height of course…

Cutting three trees and then chopping up the wood really gave me a hunger to be reckoned with, and I’m also sleepy. But… I don’t want to be rude and eat without her. She bought herself this food. It’s more hers than mine. I’m not sure how much she wants to give me. I guess I could just sleep on an empty stomach. Yeah. That sounds reasonable.

I walk over to the floor next to Fiddle’s bed, and lay down on the wooden floor. It’s oddly comfortable… I guess anything’s comfortable when you’re sleep deprived and tired. Time to wait till morning… time for rest…

Goodnight, Fiddle.

~~~~~~<

… Mmmn… that smells… mmmnnnn….

I snap out of sleep when I realize some is indeed cooking up. Smells delightful. That or my stomach is willing to eat dog shit. Let’s go see--

Ah. Right. Male human body struggles are still a thing…

I think as I stare down at my morning wood… where’s that axe?

I get up and cover myself with my hands and I peek through the door frame. Fiddle still seems to be in the kitchen, unable to see me in the hall. I don’t want to scar her pretty, big blue eyeballs with my horrid standing man meat. It’s one thing to see it flaccid… another thing to see it ready for use. I tippy-toe to the restroom and close the door.

Safe ‘n’ sound.

I let nature take its course in the toilet as I relieve myself from unneeded waste. As the urine waterfall dissipates, I exit the restroom and make my way towards the kitchen. Before I even enter her sight, I hear her call:

“Good mornin’, fella! Ready for breakfast?” Fiddle says in a singing, upbeat tone while looking over to me.

*Oh. The stove works?* I sign slowly.

“Well, where else would I cook m’food, silly?” She smiles playfully and reaches down into a cabinet.

She takes out two plates, and two forks from another cabinet. With the skill of a master cheif, she uses her muzzle bang the handle of the pan down, and the eggs come soaring through the air, and land perfectly on the plates that she’s holding with her wings. She then trots over to the kitchen bar table and sets the plates down across from one another. She then turns around to get the bean can she left heating up, and she brings it over with her two hooves.

She sets the bean can inbetween the plates and takes a seat on the stool near her plate.

“Breakfast’s ready, fella. Hungry?” She looks over to me with a friendly smile.

She doesn’t stop smiling. She’s so… happy. She lives in a shithole with a shit job and she smiles… heh. Wow.

*Yes. Very hungry* I walk over and sit down on the stool. I look like I’m squatting to take a dump from how low to the ground these stools are. Still, there’s pretty comfortable. *Thank you very much* I sign before picking up the fork.

“You’re very much welcome, fella. Now dig in, b’fore it gets cold.” She picks up the fork herself and pokes her egg, bringing it to her mouth.

I repeat after her, and take a chunk of egg into mouth.

Ohoho, blissful egg… so delicious.

Fiddle picks up the can of beans and uses her fork to scoop some out and onto her plate. She then holds the can out to me. I take it from her and start to scrape some out for myself. I see that she didn’t even take half… there’s still a lot left in there. I take out as much as she did for herself, and I offer it back to her.

“No, no. Ts’all yours, fella. I’m probably gonna get full with this.” She says genuinely.

Either she’s lying, or she eats very little... I hope she eats very little. I don’t want her going hungry because she’s too nice to properly feed herself.

I scoop up the rest of the beans with my fork and land them on my plate. I start to dig in, taking as much beans as my fork can hold in each bite…

I note something… odd...

I look up from my food to briefly look at Fiddle, then return my gaze to my plate. My feeling was right. Fiddle’s just staring at me. In silence. She’s still eating. But she’s just staring at me.

I set down my fork.

*Can I help you?* I sign slowly, keeping my facial expression as soft as possible so I don’t come off to her as mean.

“Um, oh. N-No. Why?” She looks at me oddly.

*You’re staring at me. Like if I was wall.* I simply sign.

“Pardon my rudeness. It’s just… strange. Seeing you do things like eat. With a fork. Properly… like a pony. Y’know? It’s something to get used to... ”

*Trust me. Same here.* I smile at her, picking my fork back up and finishing up the last of my egg.

“Finished?” She looks at my plate. I nod to her and she gets up to take my plate and hers to the “sink.” Or small bucket that she fills is just enough water to wash the dishes. She gets a small green sponge from the sink counter and starts to wash the dishes.

“Hey’a, fella. I’ve actually got some good news for you.” She says without looking to me.

“Tonight I got booked for a few more performances. If I get at least four tonight, I might actually get enough for a train ticket, and the fee for a pet aboard the train. We might be able to visit my cousin in Ponyville!”

My eyebrow arches and I walk over to her. She looks at me with a hopeful smile.

*Are you sure? You looked dead last night after three. Three performance. Four?* I sign, giving her a concerned look.

“Oh, don’t worry yourself, fella. It’s okay! I got a good rest last night. I think I’m ready for it.” She responds to my concern with a tooth-filled smile.

… She’s very positive. Maybe a little too positive.

“Besides… I hope we can get out of this dump… the years I’ve lived here I could never call this place home.” The smile that always takes her lips seemed to just disappear after she said that.

*Okay. I wish you luck. Do not get hurt.* I sign with a sympathetic smile.

Fiddle looks into my eyes and smiles. She turns and starts to trot down the hall.

“I’mma freshen up and head out, mmkay? Take care of yerself.” She enters the restroom and closes the door.

Guess I’ll be alone again. This time, with a little more daylight alone. Hopefully I can finish up this project in time. I walk towards Fiddle’s room and sit down on the cage, listening to the muffled pitter-patter of water from the restroom. I see Fiddle’s hat laying there on her bed. Tan colored, brown belt with white gems in it. Probably fake gems… she’d probably sell them for money if they were real and had value.

The restroom door squeaks open, and a damp Fiddle trots out with a towel wrapped around her mane. Interestingly enough, she doesn’t bother clothing herself before coming in here. This is the first time I’ve seen her without that little shirt and scarf she always wears… looks… like, not odd. But more of--

Gah, what am I doing? Stop looking at her, you weirdo.

She makes her way towards the dresser behind me, and I hear her open it up. I don’t look back at her, simply staring at the wall in front of me. The clinking of plastic cloth hangers give the impression that she’s picking out something to wear.

“Perfect. Hmn. No. No, no, that wouldn’t look good.” She mumbles to herself.

Since when was she a fashion diva?

I remain staring at the wall for a minute longer before I hear the plastic banging of the violin case. I look over to and see her.

Woh…

She looked… fancy. I couldn’t even tell that she was a cowgirl in this state. She looks like a… professional orchestra player. She’s wearing a black tux with a bow tie, thin black eyeliner (how is that even a thing for these ponies), and her mane is combed to form a thick bun to the front, and curly ends from the hair that droops down to her back. It looked… pretty damn neat.

“... What? Too much on the artificial?” She tries to look at her eyeliner.

I shake my head, probably looking like a dumb ape. I don’t like makeup, but… it… didn’t look half bad. Her entire get-up was well composed actually. She looked like she would play for a concert or something… maybe that’s what she’s planning for.

“I need to get goin’, fella. Remember, house only, window blinds.”

*Mom. Really. I got it.* My expression bored. I quickly reach over to the nightstand where my notebook is and I take my pencil. Blocking Fiddle’s exit from the doorway, I write something down.

“H-Hey! I need’a get goin’! C’mon, now. Move yourself--”

I present to her what I wrote.

“... Nails? What’ya need nails for?”

I put my index finger to my mouth, puckering my lips

“Um… I got nails. One box I think. In the kitchen cabinet on top. Why would you need--? Wu-hey!”

I get behind her and start pushing her down the hall, her fancy shoes gliding across the wood. I stop her at the front door, and I open it. I look over to her and point outside.

“Um. Okay? I… guess I’ll be going?” She looks at me strangely.

I nod and point again. She slowly trots out the door, still looking back at me. I close the door on her. I go to the living room window and check if she’s still there.

Nah, she’s trotting towards the town. Good, good…

I turn and run towards the kitchen, check the far right ceiling cabinet in the kitchen.

Bingo.

I take out the small box of 100 nails. A near perfect amount from what I’m going to need.

I walk back towards Fiddle’s room and I open up the cabinet that contains the axe. Axe in one hand and nails in the other, and walk towards the storage room that’s right outside Fiddle’s room. I make my way toward the far left corner of the room where a bunch of boxes were stacked, and I move them apart to reveal the large stack of wooden planks I had cut yesterday. I smile, and flip the axe 360 degrees in style.

Time to get to work… again.

~~~~~~<

Goodness gracious, my hands freakin’ hurt… just one more nail, it’s game set. C’mon…

With a trembling hand, I lift up the axe towards its blunt side, aim the nail on the wheel’s left axle… and… and--

“NNNRRRHHH!!!” I cry in pain when I smash my thumb. For the hundredth time.

I shake my bleeding hand to try and air off the pain.

Crap! Did I get blood on the wagons?

A quick inspection of the wagon I’m closest to, and nothing. Good… would’a had a heart attack.

Alright. One more time. It’s not that hard, man. Not that hard… one… two… and--

I swing the axe once at the nail, and it impacts the head successfully.

Aaaah, thank the Lord… finally.

I start to hammer, or hamaxe, the last nail into place. I run my only non-bleeding pinky finger across the nail to check if it’s flush. Perfect.

I stand up, sweaty, tried, bleeding, and sleepy with three hand-crafted wagons out of that weird-ass sturdy wood. I roll the wagon that I just finished, and it rolls smoothly. I set down the axe and open the door to the storage room. Cool air blows on my face for a moment of sweet relief. It’s not really cool air, it’s hot. But it’s a lot damn cooler than that stuffy old storage room. I make my way towards the door adjacent to the storage door, and enter the restroom. I turn on the faucet and immediately put my hands in, even if the water is piping hot. No need to give Fiddle a big water bill.

I air dry my burning, stinging hands, and I make my way to the living room. A quick inspection out the window, and I see that the sun is setting, but not completely gone. It’s gonna get cold soon… can’t wait. This heat’s killing me.

It seems Fiddle isn’t home yet, and I don’t know how long I’ve been working on those three wagons… maybe I have time to sell ‘em. Maybe…

I contemplate how I’d get such a thing done. I start to pace up and down the hall, staring out Fiddle’s bedroom window, and then the living room window when I arrive at each point.

I snap my fingers with a smile.

Got it. Yes, this’ll work.

I make my way over to Fiddle’s room and reach for my note book. I take a piece of paper and pencil, and write something down in the best handwriting I can.

“HAUL WAGONS FOR SALE, 100 BITS EACH” I write… bits? That’s what she said, right? Not… bites? Beads? I sure hope it’s bits or else I’m gonna look like an idiot… alright.

I reach into my backpack and pull out a extra shoe string I had left in the biggest pocket.

I wish I could remember my parent’s faces, not where I left a damn shoe string.

I rip out the page from the notebook carefully. I take the shoe string and run it across the two hole punches farthest apart. I tie it around my neck like a necklace, and the paper hands off on my chest with the words displayed to the world.

I study it again, and revise my plan...

Hmmn… maybe I need to be a little more specific. Alright.

I flip the page facing me and I take the pencil in hand, writing a few more instructions down.

“HAUL WAGONS FOR SALE, 100 BITS EACH”
“Give bits to human, and take wagon of choice. Thievery will be punished by human.”

Welp… here goes something.

I reach down into my backpack and take the second extra shoestring into hand.I flip the page back so the text faces the world, and I walk towards the storage room again. Ties the wagons together so they form a small train, and I pull on the two front handles where ponies would hinge themselves. I good measurement on how it should be when I was studying the other ponies going about their business yesterday.

Mother of f-- just… AW DAMN IT!

I fling my arms up in anger when I realize that the wagons… won’t fit through the door frame… … the door frame’s weak… I could probably just bust it down… tell Fiddle that a burglar and I tussled it out… maybe…

I walk through the door frame with the shoe string in hand, and I pull it when the wagon gets stuck. The wall creaks and snaps lightly…

… Hnhg! Sorry, Fiddle!

I muster up a great pull with both of my hands, and the wagons break through the wall, making the hall dusty and difficult to see in. Coughing my lungs out, I rush out of the out, wagons rolling behind me. They break through the front door as well, making a nice jagged outline of the wagon.

Fiddle is gonna have my head on fine china. If she doesn’t own any, she’s going to save up for some fine china, cut off my head, and then place it there…

I try to hold my cringing in from the damage I caused, and I start to walk towards the town. The street lights are already coming on, and big red glowing text on a particular building says, “SALOON.” The dirt is relatively cool, so standing around won’t be a pain. I walk a bit faster, trying to keep pace with the sunlight. Can’t really sell to working ponies when they’re none out.

I compose myself and straighten up my facial expression, entering the town. Ponies stare at me strangely, wondering what I’m doing. I walk in front of a small store looking building, and I stand there, sign facing out. I make sure the wagons stop to my left in a line, out of the way of the entrance of the store. Ponies are still looking at me strangely. One little baby pony starts to approach me. She’s adorably tiny… urge… to… s-smile… rrrrhhh….

“Paapaa… paapaa! Wook, paapaa! Hyuuman!” The little filly starts to crawl on my leg.

“Get it away from it, dear! It’ll hurt you!” A stallion quickly swoops the little foal from my leg.

I remain staring at the two blankly, not moving.

“... Wagons for sale?” He continues to read through the page. “Hmn. Don’t you need one, Shaink?”

A large dark blue pony slowly makes his way over… now this guy. This guy is huge. Huge. Muscular and tall… he’s… intimidating.

“Punished by human? Hah… maybe I should steal it, just to see what this thing has in him… but nah. That’d just get the sheriff on my ass. Yeah, I do need a wagon. But I need one that can handle my line of work.” The pony by the name of Shaink speaks in a grumbly voice.

“You’ve broken three wagons this past week. I just think you need to carry less ores per haul.” The pony holding the foal says.

“Working double is for idiots.” The behemoth retorts. “Hmn. I guess I’ll ‘buy’ one. How would this work?”

I slowly raise my palm facing up, my arm making a right angle and my face remaining unfazed. Doing this for a long time isn’t really hard. Your face muscles just get used to doing nothing, and it’s easy…

“That sign says to just give the humans 100 bits. Just do that I guess.” The father says.

“What if I give it sixty? It won’t know the difference.”

“I don’t know… that would still be considered thievery.”

“Nopony would even know. Here...” The pony pulls out a small baggie and hands it to me.

I bounce the coin bag in my hand a little. It’s… heavy. Definately a lot of golden coins… but not heavy enough to convince me it’s a hundred.

“Hurh…” I groan out. The ponies look at me in surprise.

“You see? It’s trained. It knows. Just buy it correctly or leave it alone.” The father scolds.

“Hnnh… What’s the quality of these things? I don’t wanna put bits into a piece of junk.”

“Could you try and roll it?” The father looks at me uneasy.

“Hmn. If it attacks me, I’ll kill it.” The wall of flesh walks over to the wagon on the far right of the line, and he touches it. He bangs on it a little, and he rolls it with the leeway that shoe string gives it.

“Huh. Wow. Well made. Might have been produced in of them factories you hear of these days.”

Thank you very much. I guess.

“Alright, here.” He trots to me and and takes his coin pouch back. The takes out another with a the number 100 stitched onto the pouch. He leaves it on my hand, and it’s considerably heavier.

He trots towards the wagon he was investigating, and he unties it from the shoe string. He grasps the one of the handles of the cart and starts to walk with it.

“You tell your owner a much obliged, you hear.” He tells me sarcastically, and he breaks into a laugh.

You’re welcome… shithead…

~~~~~~<

The sun is just about down, and the sky is painted a beautiful orangey-yellow color. I see less and less ponies walking around, and certainly less working ponies.

Maybe I should head home… one wagon is good enough… I gueeeess… I hoping there would be--

I hear something break near me and a wheel comes rolling by me, falling over and laying on itself right in front of my feet.

“Con-sarnit! C’mon! Not now!” A voice calls to my far right.

I see a young looking stallion unhinging himself from his wagon, a wagon that’s laying on its side with a bunch of vegetables laying all over the floor.

Ooph. That sucks, fella. I wish I could help…

He sighs and starts to load the vegetables on the wagon again. After he places them all back on, he looks around for something.

“Uuuugh… friggin...” He starts to trot to me, a angry expression on his face. In an angry fit of mumbling, he doesn’t notice me near the wheel. He picks it up with his mouth, and he looks at my feet. He slowly starts to look up. Our eyes meet.

“MMMP!” He drops the wheel from his mouth.

I flinch when the wheel barely misses my toes, and slams onto the dirt heavily.

“O-Oh… man…wooho… almost got me there, you… I’mma… just get this wheel. A-Alright?” He slowly moves towards me again.

He freezes when he hears something snap, and break. We both look over and see that his wagon had come apart, dropping all of the produce on the ground.

His ears lay flat on his head and he sighs.

“Just me and my luck...” His head hangs. “Can one thing happen right today?” He looks up to me, and his eyes lazily move to the sign on my chest.

“W-Wait… what? Sale? A hundred bits!? Crazy talk!”

He looks down at the broken wheel between both of us.

“... Got no choice, do I?” His upset eyes look at mine. I remain a mannequin.

He reaches into his saddle bag things and rumbles around through it. I slowly lift up my hand, palm up.

“‘Kay, do I just… put it on you? Or…? Oh.” He puts the baggy on my palm, and its weight is familiar.

He gives me an awkward smile, and he goes over to the wagon on the far right, and he unties it. He rolls it over to his produce, and he unhooks the hinge from the old wagon. He places it on the new wagon and he hammers it in place with his hoof.

Fits like a charm. Damn, I’m good.

He starts to put back all of the vegetables back on the wagon. After he fills his wagon again, he steps into the belt and hooks himself up again. He slowly walks with it, and he smiles.

“Waoh, nelly! Smooth as butter! Gee, worth the bits.” He trots away with a smile towards the other end of town, and out of sight.

Sweet. Two down, hopefully I can sell this last one… not sure how far 300 bits would get someone, but I guess anything could help Fiddle. One more. Shouldn’t be that hard? Right?

~~~~~~<

My feet hurt…

It’s been… however many freaking hours I’ve been here. It’s dark out, and I haven’t seen Fiddle yet… I might as well go home already. This shit sucks…

I hold the two bags of coins in my right hand, and I use my left to grip the handle of the third and last wagon. I start to waddle home with sore feet. The doors to the saloon in front of my barge open, and a fancy looking old stallion stumbles out. He’s dead drunk.

“I… say. Time… for the couch in the home land of in the heart… of Equestria...”

He spots me. Dear God stay away please.

“He--” He lets out a burp that smells of rum from all the way over here. “Hey, you there… what’syerbusiness… come here… I wanna tell you a secret...”

He starts to fumble his drunk self over to me. I start to walk a little faster.

“Hey, now...” The old coot appears literally infront of me.

How the hell…?

“Oh. A sign. I like to read… reading is for...” He hiccups, “The… the intellectually inclined!”

His bloodshot eyes scan through the sign on my chest. He takes a sold thirty seconds to read about 12 words…

“A-A thousand bits!? That’s preeetty steep for my wallet, boy’o… Deal!”

… D-Deal…?

He reaches into his coat and pulls out a fat bag of coins. He pushes it onto my chest and it stumbles me back a step. He then tips his top hat to me with a smile, and he trips away with my last wagon…

… Did… really...

I look at the bag in my arms.

I guess… Fiddle can forgive me for the walls?

I start to waddle home again with three baggies filled with these golden pieces. It… feels good. And, I could even dance in joy right here and all these drunk ponies could care less. Huh. Maybe I’ll save the dancing for later… my feet still hurt.

Making my way back home, I can’t help but let a smile take my face.

~~~~~~<

I step onto the porch of Fiddle’s house, and the door’s open.

Did I leave the door open? Sure hope not.

I walk in through the giant hole in the wall that was once the door. I look around… and…

God, what happened here?

The walls have holes in them. Most of them evenly sized. The kitchen is a mess, and the extra eggs Fiddle had bought are all cracked on the floor. I set the bags down near the kitchen, and I slowly make my way down the hall. I notice a dim flickering light in Fiddle’s room…

Is… she home? Did she not go through town?

I slowly walk towards the door frame of Fiddle’s room, and I peak inside…

Oh?

I see Fiddle’s room is a mess. Completely trashed. Her drawers and cabinets are all tipped over and broken, the cage is on its side, and pieces of clothes are scattered everywhere… pieces of her suit... and Fiddle Faddle is lying her bed, face coupled in her arms… and crying.

Slowly and steady, I creep up to her. I stand near the bed and softly put my hand on her shoulder. She seems startled as her head snaps at me.

“Y-... Y-... You...” She says between huffs of crying breaths, “... I thought… I thought you left...” Tears trickle down her cheek from her blood red eyes. Her makeup is running too...

I simply shake my head, gazing at her solemnly.

“W-Where we you…? I-I told you not to leave!” Her voice slowly drowns out, and she starts to cry again.

…

I sit down on the bed and put my hand on her back, sighing. I don’t really know what to do…

Should I apologize? Maybe I shou--

Fiddle wraps her arms my stomach, crying into the blanket sheets.

Poor girl… I really messed this shit up…

I gently stroke her mane, letting this wave pass through Fiddle…

~~~~~~<

*So… what really happened?* I write down on my notebook before present to her.

“My… my first performance got cancelled… so I had to wait in the middle of a party alone where I didn’t know anypony… then, in my second performance, I didn’t have the right sheet music, so I couldn’t keep up… my third performance… it wasn’t even a performance… it was just a… frat party of some sort. Then, on my last performance, my D string snapped in the middle of the performance, hit another pony in the eye, caused him to drop his bass on top of a cello player, and rendered the cello player unconscious...”

… Wow. Just… wow.

I quickly jot something down and show it to her.

*I’m sorry to hear that...*

“... And once I came home… and saw you were nowhere… I thought you left… and I kinda… snapped. A little...”

*”A little.” I’d like to sincerely apologize for disobeying you and wandering off like that… and I’m really sorry about your house.*

“... It’s okay...” She sniffles. “It’s fine… at least the house is st--”

A force hits us like sack of bricks when the roof comes down on our heads.

Aagh, shit… … Fiddle!

I push myself up from my laying position, knocking over the planks that were on top of me. I look around and can’t see Fiddle. It’s so murky and dusty. I start to move planks and wooden shards out of the way, digging for her desperately.

No, no, no, no, no! … Fiddle? Fiddle! ... Fiddle?

I move one last large plank to reveal the small dust-ridden pony laying on her side curled into a ball, crying silently.

This… can’t get and worse… … Hmn?

I look up--

“Hrh!”

No, I don’t look up. Instead, I get a water droplet dead in the eye… I look up again with more caution.

Ah! Of course! Rainclouds! Just… I don’t… this shit…

My eyes open widely.

The money! I had forgotten about it!

I tap the sad little Fiddle’s shoulder, and she look over to me. Her face looks dead and grey. I hop out of the rubble I’m surrounded by. I come back with a smile. All she can see is my head from the hole she’s in.

“... W-Why are you smiling? W-Why? Please… just tell me why...” She says between sobs.

I crouch down and roll the bags into the little hole she’s in. They land on her side, and she quickly sits up.

“Wh-What are these?” She stares into my eyes in confusion, “Are these… bit bags?”

I nod with the smile that never left my face. I hold up my hands and slowly sign:

*1.2.0.0.*

“One… one th… Ono thousand two hundred!?” She sits up straight, her eyes the size of pen pricks.

I nod again.

“W-Where!? How!? J-James?” She stutters.

Rain starts to drizzle down more and more, picking up pace in a matter of seconds.

I put my index finger to my mouth and reach down with both arms, picking her up out of the rubble along with the coin bags. I hold her like a princess on my chest…

Her face looks so defeated. Her eyes show no life, only despair. I walk out of the rubble and onto the dirt, and set her down with the bags. The smile doesn’t leave my face.

*Ready to visit cousin?* I sign.

Her pupils grow immensely, shimmering in the moonlight. She stands on her hind legs and pulls me in for a hug.

“T-Thank you… t-thank you... thank you so much...” The wetness I feel on my chest isn’t rainwater. I wrap my arms around her and return the hug with full heart.

A loud as hell thunder strike breaks us apart, and she picks up the coin bags.

“C’mon, we don’t wanna be caught out here. Let’s get to the train station...” She looks at me, and I look at her. We both smile.

She turns and starts to trot towards town. I look back at the rubble and go towards the ‘front of the house.’ I reach in through where the kitchen was and pull out the dreaded noose of death. Or my collar. I run back to Fiddle who’s staring back at me, wondering what I’m doing. I present the handle end of the rope after I put the collar around my neck.

“Oh, right. Thank you...” She giggles. I roll my eyes with a smile.

We both make our way towards the train station once more.

I look around at the nighttime town of Dodge. Drunk ponies causing shows in and out of the saloon, law ponies making sure they don’t do anything stupid, and a strange scent of... apple cider? This place is so peaceful. These ponies are at least. Obviously there’s a couple of assholes here and there, judging from that one walking wall of meat earlier. But there hasn’t been any major problem here. And it’s a western town. Usually these places have a thief or so occasionally.

We walk up the steps that lead to a ticket booth for the train station. Fiddle goes up to the pony working the stand.

“One ticket, and a pet ticket, please.” Fiddle says.

“You betcha. Pet?” He leans down behind the counter.

“Human.” She simply replies.

“Ah, I see.” Says the pony, coming back up with two tickets, “That’ll be twenty-five bits, ma’am.”

Fiddle opens up a bag that has the 100 stitched onto it, and takes out the exact amount. Fiddle pushes the coins into the little slot under the window of the ticket booth, and the pony slides the tickets under the same slot.

“Thank you kindly, sir.” Fiddle says as she tries to tip her hat. She realises that she doesn’t have it.

“No, thank you, ma’am.” He smiles friendly-like and look at me.

Fiddle and I look at each other. Fiddle sighs.

“My hat...” She looks back in the general direction of where her home was, “... Ah, well. I guess we can see about getting another… maybe in Ponyville.” She smiles at me.

I try my hardest not to smile back, it’s become a habit to smile back at Fiddle when she does to me… wonder why.

“Train coming in from the South!” The ticket pony announces to us, as we’re the only two customers there.

The train starts to pull up in front of us. It… looks so stupid. It looks like a generic little girl toy train, and they way it moves… it bounces up and down as it goes along. What?

The doors of the train open, and the both of us enter. We find a seat near the back of the cart. There’s maybe two or three other ponies in the cart, all sitting in separate areas of the cart. We sit on the left corner seats, and Fiddle gets the window. I see Fiddle staring out the window in silence. The midnight sky reflects off her eyes so perfectly, it’s strange.

The train cart doors close, and the rumbling of the seat tells us that the train is moving on. A pony in a waitress uniform comes in from the cart in front of ours.

“We will be arriving at Ponyville in 7 hours. Do not be afraid to ask a train assistant for anything! Thank you.” She announces softly to the few of us in the cart.

She does a 180 and leaves the cart the same way she came in. A quick glance at Fiddle, and I see her eyes are closed and her mouth is slightly hung open.

Hmn. Sleep does sound like a good idea… Good night, Fiddle.

Author's Note

Welp, finished a chapter. Finally.

I hope to get some good feedback from you guys, it'll help me 'git gud' at writing these things.

Thank you for reading, and good day.