The Shattered Heart

Sandy Scroll awoke to the sound of rusted bells – not so much a chime as a series of dull, metallic thunks in the distance – and was greeted by the familiar scents of dust and ash and centuries-old paper. She rubbed a beige hoof against her aching temple and shivered at the frigid draft that blew through the window in front of her; the fire on her hearth must have died while she had slept, and it had been ages since Appleoosa had last produced glass with which to ward off the winter winds.

Sand lifted her head from her desk and glanced outside. It was dawn, and it was dusk, just as it had been for every hour of every day for as long as anypony could remember. According to the town's clock-tower, however, it was ten.

AM or PM? The makeshift day-or-night sign that hung just below the clock’s face was not visible from Sand’s house behind the tower. She could not remember falling asleep but the current hour, coupled with the throbbing pain in her skull, suggested that she had worked all through the previous “night” and possibly through a good part of the following “day”.

Sitting up, Sand looked over the items strewn before her: a component from a locomotive boiler, caked with rust on one side and soot on the other; a number of faded pamphlets printed with timetables, lists of stops, and maps of the former Equestrian train system; sketches and written descriptions cataloging these and other artifacts that Sand had acquired on her latest scavenging trip along the rail lines leading out of Appleoosa.

The boiler part was unlikely to be of much interest to Sand's fellow townsponies, but would be a welcome addition to her personal collection. Most of the other trinkets, she figured, would fetch a decent price at the market. The pamphlets, on the other hoof, were more valuable than any number of bits -- as were all written works from Old Equestria, however minor. Indeed, if Sand had had her way, none of these items would be for sale; the idea of trading irreplaceable relics for mere coin had never sat well with her. Yet, every mare needs to eat, and so compromises had been made.

Grumble Rumble Grumble

Speaking of food, though, Sand couldn't recall when she had last eaten. Certainly not within the previous day. Sand staggered to her hooves and made her way to the pantry. Empty. She turned to her fireplace. All out of fuel, too. Just great.

She’d have no choice but to make another trip to the town market; without a fire, the light that Sand received through her window was insufficient for any serious reading or writing.

Sand stepped out into the snow-carpeted alleyway, saddlebags at her sides and cloak on her back, and basked for a moment in the reds and yellows and purples and other twilight colors that painted the naked woodwork around her. If you believed in certain pony-tales, there had been a time some centuries or millennia back when the sun and moon moved through the heavens -- one cycle every twenty-four hours, hence the modern clock cycle. The sky had been blue, and presumably so had been everything else. If true, that must have been a downright, well, blue world to live in.

Sand, for her part, was skeptical. While written works from that time period were plentiful, she knew of none that explicitly described the sun and moon, or the princesses who were said to control them. Although, given that Sand's collection consisted only of what she had been able to scrounge up in her trips around the immediate Appleoosa area (the town didn't have, and had never had, a public library), that wasn't saying much.

Trotting along the frozen dirt path that lead to the market, Sand could first make out the low buzz of scattered conversation, and then the clamor of vendors packing up for the night. PM it was, then.

Eventually, a ring of crude wooden stalls came into view, tattered canvas canopies fluttering in a light breeze. In a different time, those fabrics might have been adorned with brightly colored stripes and checkers; now, faded dyes blended into indistinct patterns, all in one shade of grey or another. As she entered the market, Sand saw a few salesponies who were only just starting to close up for the night.

"Hi Hayseed. I'm really sorry about this, but I lost track of time last night and now I'm all out of --"

Hayseed pointed a hoof at the clock face above.

"Yes, I know the store closes at ten, but you still have everything out. Couldn't we --"

"Closing time's ten, and that's that. If ya wanna buy something, come back tomorrow."

"But --"

"Ten. O'clock."

Ignoring Sand's further attempts at communication, Hayseed returned to her packing. The conversations with the other vendors proceeded in much the same way.

If you believed those same pony-tales, there had been a time when ponies lived in "harmony." Ponies would go out of their way to help even complete strangers when there was naught to be gained -- to say nothing of decades-long acquaintances when there was profit to be had. Sand could think of only one pony who might be called "harmonious." Though, Appleoosa was a small town and the only one Sand had ever lived in, so that probably said little of the current state of Equestria at large.

“Heya Sands!” A bright yellow pegasus mare with an orange mane flew over from across the market.

“Oh, hi Sunburst.”

“Lemme guess. 'Nother all-night all-day scribblin' session?”

“Um. Hehe. Yeah.”

“And you haven't bothered to eat, haven't checked your pantry in days. Found it empty, then came over here after closing time and couldn't buy anything again.”

“Well, ye -- wait, what do you mean 'again'?”

Sunburst stared at Sand for a moment, one eyebrow raised. “Again. Like that one time two months ago. Or that time last winter.  Or three weeks ago. Really, Sand, this happens all the time.”

“I guess I do get carried away, on occasion. But when you've got your hooves on a Fillydelphian-made arcano-combustive locomotive engine, or a preclassical Pegasopolian manuscript, well, who could possibly resist? You know, just earlier this week I found a --”

“Yes, it's all very interesting, but you really need to take better care of yourself. At least one meal a day. Please. Now, c'mon. My place.” Sunburst gestured with a foreleg.

For dinner was piping hot hay stew, garnished with fresh hay; with sides of crispy hay fries; tender hay-loaf; and various other hay-based dishes. Despite its rather suggestive name, Appleoosa did not produce many apples these days – or much of any other food crop, for that matter: too much effort for too little result. A pony could subsist her entire life on nothing but hay, and so hay it was for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

“So, what did you find on your last outing?” Sunburst shoveled a final load of hay into the roaring fireplace behind her before sitting down across from Sand.

“Oh, you've got to see this, Sunny!” Sand levitated one of the pamphlets from her saddlebag and spread it across the table. “It's a map of all of Equestria! From here in Appleoosa, to Ponyville, Canterlot, Baltimare, even somewhere called the 'Crystal Empire'. Hundreds of years old, and in pristine condition too! I was quite surprised to find these out in the open, but I guess since the train was a little further out than my normal sites …”

“Wow, this is amaz ...” Sunburst grew silent as she examined the map, a pensive look on her face. A few seconds later, though, she shot into the air, effusive as ever. “Oh my gosh, I just had the greatest idea ever! There've gotta still be ponies living in these places, right? And now we know exactly where all those tracks lead. Let's go somewhere – we'll just follow the tracks and there's no way we can get lost!”

"Hmm. There was supposed to be a grand library in Ponyville. The greatest ever built, from what I've heard. And the Canterlot archives in, well Canterlot." Who knew what other buried secrets and hidden truths awaited her out there?

Sandy Scroll thought for a moment. Appleoosa was the only home she had ever known. She'd never wandered more than a few hours' walk from town, and the journey to the next closest settlement would take a full week; Ponyville, at least two. But then she looked to her side. A tattered coil of yellowed paper, peeking above the desert ground -- an indelible mark on her body and on her soul. Was this not what she lived for -- her very reason for being?

Appleoosa and its surroundings had already yielded what secrets they would -- there was little left for her here, no real decision to be made.

Sandy Scroll thought for only a  moment.

"I'm in."