A New Road

by Sipioc

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Human, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Other, Romance
Length: 6903

Winding Roads is a rough and tough mare who has a problem... his name is Ranger.

"My name is Winding Roads, or 'Windy' as I rather be called. I work with my mother and brother in our family owned caravan business located out of Appleloosa. I have a good life; an exciting job, a little filly I am trying to raise right, and over my head is wide open skies."
"What more could a mare ask for?
...his name is 'Ranger'."
Story DUE FOR RE-Write

Published 2015-11-25 05:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-03-10 19:05:44 UTC

Chapter 1

Author's Note

Hey everyone, don't really know where this story is gonna end up, but I've had fun writing it and got great feedback from others before I chose to submit it.

Hope you like it,

Special thanks to...LateBronyWriter
and Falx of the Shadows for the intially once over.

As always: Constructive Criticism Please

Chapter 1

The air was still crisp and the sky was clear for miles. It was going on ten in the morning, but the desert air still clung to its nightly chill for every fiber of its worth. At least it did from the altitude I was at. The harsh dirt that stretched at least a hundred feet below me was no doubt preheating to its noon day scorching temperatures, but for me? Well, that's what the jacket was for.

My name is 'Winding Roads', but most folk call me 'Windy', and ever since I was a filly I felt most at home up here in the sky. Everyday, I thanked the Creator that I took after Daddy in the flying likenesses. Now, I know I'd of found happiness either way, but knowing what this was like, it would make it hard to have anything else. Fate, it seemed agreed, if my mark of wisps of blue wind, blowing desert flower petals had anything to say about it. True, it wasn't all cloud pies and kitty whiskers; flown through my fair shake of clouds so black and winds so tough, I thought they would take my very beating heart and spit me out. Yeah, it had its risks, but days like today are a little slice of heaven.

Banking right, I put the sun to my back and pull a cork screw roll heading down; nothing crazy, just enough to get the blood pumping. My old friend, windspeed, tries to play keep away with my hat, but the sured up stampede strap on my battered ridgetop holds tight; doesn't mean he won't keep trying though. The rays of Princess Celestia's namesake flicker behind me for the briefest of moments and that's enough for me to know that windspeed brought another friend to play.

A sharp mid air twist on my part, and it's just a hair's breadth between me and the newcomer to this once picturesque setting.

"Almost didn't see me comin'." Comes a voice full of playful intent, underlying no small amount of bravado.

I right myself, and rear about to meet that snide face I knew all to well; 'Cross Roads' is his name, and he is none other than my own twin brother. Ironically though, he is a perfect mirror image of me, and by that I mean he is a perfect opposite. Cross has a rusty red coat to my creamy light brown. Where as his shorter mane and tail are a creamy light brown to my long rusty red. Perched on his head sits a dark brown pinch front cow pony hat. A wool lined vest hugs his barrel ending with a winged wagon wheel adorning his flank.

The differences stops with his eyes. They share my own deep apple red, something we both got from Momma. Between his grinning teeth is his latest tooth pick, which I would scarcely recognize him without. He moves it to the opposite side of his mouth as he regards me again with that condescending smugness I know, and love him for.

"Windy, dear sister, perhaps yah should leave the scoutin' to me." He says smirking at me, he moves from a hover and attempts to circle me; an act which I pay in kind. "Hate tah say it, but you've been moving a little slower these days."

I narrow my gaze at him, knowing he is only funning me, but still trying to hide a blush from creeping onto my face. "That would still make me faster than you, Cross." I snort imperiously at him.

"Ohoho really?" He chortles at me, the smell of an unspoken challenge hangs thick in the air. In anticipation we begin moving forward again, weaving in and out of each other's contrails. "Care tah put that to the test?" He says leveling the brim of his hat at me.

"Sure," I say, casually admiring my hoof, "I could use a laugh watching you lose to me again."

The gauntlet, officially cast down, the challenge accepted; we level off and begin eying for a suitable marker. A lone tree in the distance seems fitting enough, and true to our bond, he spots it too, wordlessly approving with a nod. We brace up. I pump my wings, ready, waiting, dare say: itching for the thrill of the race.

"Ready?" He chirps, lowering his head.

"Set?" I return, coiling up, ready to bolt at that magic two letter word that's coming.

"G-!" Our synchronized start is halted from a chiding shout below.

"Winding! Cross! You two quit that grab flankery, and do your jobs!"

Inching its way through the canyon below comes a mismatched wooden caterpillar; our latest caravan line. Seventeen little white topped wagons being pulled by various Earth pony's, oxen and mule folk mixed in for good measure. The little procession slowly makes its way through the barren expanse of the dry Moojave Badlands.

At the head of the line is none other then the fearless Wagon Mistress herself: Greening Roads. Head proprietor of the Roads Family Caravan Company, hardest Apple filly frontier's pony since the settling of the homestead out on the Everfree, and...our mother, who is looking fit to stuff a mattress with us at the moment.

"You'd think she'd stop treatin' us like foals by now." Cross mumbles under his breath only for it to be caught by the deft ears of motherly instinct.

"Then stop acting like one." Momma says glaring at her first born (only by two minutes.) "Get on down here, both of yah!" She says, her tone leaving no room argument so we oblige quickly. She may have been an Earth pony, but she was a patient mare, leading us to believe at an early age that she and Daddy had more kids before us, but they were too scared to come back down.

Moments after we touch down, Momma gave us the rundown as we walk along her sides. "Make sure your telling everypony to stay hydrated, it only gonna git hotter out here." She says, wiping the sweat from beneath the brim of her own cowpony hat before continuing, "Also Wagon number four is having trouble with their front left axel, Cross head on over."

"Again?" My brother growls, more then a little bit annoyance in his voice. "I told them that if they were gonna skimp on their wagon repairs that they would be responsible for it." He said with a huff.

"Even so, it's our duty to look after them sorry tenderhoof's." Momma says, tipping her hat back regarding the sky with her own pair of deep ruby eyes. "Feel free to remind 'em of that." She added, motioning behind her to the line. Glancing back, the fourth wagon's uneven lurching stands out like a sore hoof from the uniform rolling of the the other wagons. It didn't help that it was weighed down with junk, or rather 'souvenirs' from the odd couple's travels throughout Equestria. With a haggard sigh, Cross takes off. "I'll keep 'em going, but it's not gonna be my fault if we're behind schedule."

"You remind them of that too, Sunny Boy." Momma calls back lovingly to her son.

I smirk as I watched my brother go grumbling off, grabbing his tool box from the back of the family wagon.

Despite its own age, "The Roadster" was always kept in tip top condition, as our families livelihood it was only natural to do so. Still, it was also kept that way out of love. Momma and Daddy bought this old buckboard with every last one of the few bits they got from their wedding day all those years ago. Cross and I practically grew up in the old thing on drives all about. From Las Pegasus, Bovinia, even as far as Canterlot. The old girl had miles worth of character. After Daddy passed, Momma took it upon herself to see to it that it always rolled smooth and had a fresh coat of paint.

Glancing about I can't help but notice that the chief occupant of the Roadster is absent. "Glory down the line playin' with the other young'ins?" I surmise, scanning the line for signs of my little pony.

"That lil' filly is gettin' more work done this morning then you and your brother." A smile creasing her features at the mention of her stalwart granddaughter. "Set out with Ranger to plot out the path."

I get a smile of my own at my daughter's youthful sensibility, sadly something that I'll admit must of skipped a generation. But, I smile a little more at the mention of our company's pathfinder. The stallion known to most only as 'Ranger'.

He came to us about two years ago, and by that I mean we found him. He was wandering about the desert just outside of what is today called 'Appleloosa'. Half dead and delirious, talking gibberish, and utterly terrified...and down right vicious, to anypony who got near him. It took some doing, but we finally got him to trust us. By and by, he eventually opened up to me about his past; where he came from. Knowing him now like I do, I would never call him a liar or crazy, but even so, I still find his story hard to believe.

For that first year it was a matter of getting the big guy back on his hooves. When the time came he chose to stick around. His special talent was put to good use; surveying the land and reading maps. It wasn't long till he was practically part of the family. Glory had taken a shining to him from the start. Her sidewinder of a father took off before she was born, so she warmed up to the stallion like her own blood. Cross had another colt on the trail to shoot the breeze and get into trouble with. Momma got a dependable and honest worker that would steer her son away from trouble. As for me, well, he was somepony I could talk to, somepony I could call 'friend'. He confided in me, and I in him. More and more though, despite my plain sense saying otherwise, I felt like I wanted something...more.

An errant rock on the trail trips me up a bit and yanks me out of my warm and fuzzy thoughts. The near face plant is enough to merit a chuckle from Momma.

"You're gonna wind up eating a face full of dirt if you don't shake off those googly eyes, little missy."

"I'm fine, Momma." I right myself indignantly, feeling my face go red. "You've said it yourself, these roads are dangerous." I add with a toothy grin trying to save a little face.

Momma just gives me another chuckle and shakes her head a bit, her silvering yellow braid shaking with her tithering.

After a bit a walking in silence she speaks again. "He's strong, dependable, and he's got a good heart."

"Who?" I say still refusing to admit anything, forming up my best poker face.

"Don't git smart with me, girly'." Her tone was even but it belied a warning I knew all too well from foalhood. "I'm being serious." My cockiness leaves me as my bluff flounders, 'It always did work better on Daddy.' I thought to myself.

"Any pony can see there is a spark of somethin' sweet their between you too," her eyes regard me empathetically, "hurry up and ask him already! Or you'll be lucky if you can share him." The simple bluntness of her words is infuriating sometimes. How this mare can be so sweet one moment the so pushy the next?

"Momma, I—," I bluster before sighing in defeat. "It ain't that simple." I hang my head a little, already I feel the heat rushing to my cheeks.

"Simpler than your makin' it out to be." She says with a grin giving me a playful nudge to cheer me up. "Why, when I first met your Daddy, I had a dickens of a time getting his attention." Momma's eyes glaze over for a moment, basking in the warmth of her memories. "Pegasus stallions are a skiddish bunch, had to practically hog-tie him just to get him to stand still long enough for me to ask him out to Tumbleweed Gulch soirée." A smile and the hint of a blush touch her lightly sunbaked features. With a shake of her head she looks at me straight on. "Still, you found yourself a nice stallion who is quite earth bound, and not to mention your already on a friendly basis."

"I know, it's just..." I look down kicking at another rock, getting a little payback at its brother for triggering this awkward conversation with my nosey mother. I did want to talk to Ranger, for a while now. We were friends, I knew that for sure. Still, the same nagging thoughts plagued my mind; what if he isn't interested? What if I just push him away? Spook him, so that I just ruin the good thing we got. Then there was his past...

'Knowing what I know...would he...even consider...me?' The thought of not knowing drags me down like a rock, but the thought of forever knowing feels like a boulder.

"Well, whatever y'ur reason," Momma says, interrupting, my thoughts (doubts, rather). She glances back at the line, then back to the current path Ranger himself put us on. "You best go find him and ask when he figures we will be making it home, looks like we're making a pit stop," she says with a sigh of her own as she pulls off to the side.

Looking back I see that number four is pulling further off to the side of the other wagons, taking a bit more space to maneuver. Cross is already grinding his teeth at the drivers, a city slicker couple from out of Hoofdale who came out here for an adventure. He was in the middle of lecturing the two about the stark dangers of prairie travel. Regardless they retained the look of doleful excitement on their faces as they snapped yet another picture of Cross, causing him to fume a bit to himself as he went back to work. Despite his griping, he would be sure to get them underway in no time flat. Still, his playful mood and mine was dowsed by a needless delay that would no doubt take at least an hour to repair even with his considerable talents.

"Maybe somepony could use the time to talk to somepony about something important?" Momma adds in her usual 'Greening Apple Roads-not so subtle' way, punctuating it with a playful wink.

I narrow my eyes at her with a pout. "Maybe 'somepony' should mind their own business," I say smartly, abruptly taking off before she can give me so much as a stern look. Truthfully, I am just grateful to leave that conversation in dust below.

Chapter 2

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 3

We pull into Appleloosa's main drag a little after 9 o'clock that night. The sun having gone down about an hour ago the town was bathed in the blue light of Princess Luna's moon, shining like a street light over the small desert oasis of civilization. The town is new, a little less than five years old, and boasting a growing population of only around a hundred residents, which is expected to steadily grow now with further expansion and the growing Apple Orchard from my relations. As such a few lights are still on in the windows of the Inn and Saloon, ready to welcome the new comers we brought with us.

As per the usual, the wagons branch off to their various destinations in town, each throwing us a grateful wave as they depart. Number four in particular, gives an energetic wave as they pass us.

"T'anks again, son." The white earth pony in a floral tropical shirt calls in his thick north Hoofdale accent, doffing his gawdy wicker hat in salute as he passes by my more than usual red faced brother.

"And we will be sure to tell our daughter all about you." His pink unicorn wife exclaims with a toothy smile before snapping another shot with her camera. The resulting flash makes me see spots for a while thereafter.

Knowing well that he needs to be polite to customers, Cross forces a smile and waves back. "Sounds lovely, ma'am. You two have a good rest of your trip." He says through clenched teeth.

When they are out of sight, Cross finally breaks down. "Oh thank Faust, they're gone."

"They seemed nice to me," I said, being honest, but more trying to be a smart Alec, "and they were gonna hook you up with their daughter?" I said enthusiastically, nudging him with my foreleg.

"Forget it!" He says pushing my hoof away and turning up his nose at the thought. "She a seamstress in Ponyville. Ah don't need some nutty unicorn potion maker bangin' on my door." He says with a shiver.

"...A 'seamstress' is somepony who makes clothes, dummy." I say flatly.

"Whatever." He says dismissively with a yawn and a stretch of his limbs. "Ah'm headin' home, night y'all." With that, he kicks off and I can make out his outline heading toward the direction of our family ranch, just a stone's throw outside of town.

As the last wagon passes, I lean off the Roadster and take a peek into the back. Glory lay there, curled up and passed out not twenty minutes before we pulled into town.

"She was so proud that her route worked." I hear Momma say coming up behind me.

"Yeah." I smile, love in my heart for my baby as I pull a blanket over her to keep out the desert chill for the short ride home.

"Ah can take her home, darlin'" Momma says softly, before she narrows her eyes at me with a mischievous smirk. "Word on the line was you 'lost a tussle' and owe a certain coworker dinner?"

I tense up and feel my face go red, and even in the dim light I know my mother can tell. I open my mouth to try and deny or even defend my honor but she beats me to it.

"Well it weren't the way ah'd do it, but you did finally ask him out." She says with a girlish giggle, bumping her wither against mine, a Cheshire grin distinctly visible in the moonlight.

"IT'S NOT- HOW DID!?" I try to start but then realize what's the point? "...maybe..." I finally admit slumping a bit.

Momma smiles wider, if that's possible, then her expression softens. "It's been ten years, baby. Ah know that sleaze ball hurt you when he ran off," her expression darkens at the mention of Glory's father, but instantly melts back to tenderness, 'but you got a beautiful lil filly out of it." She adds running a hoof gently through Glory's orange mane, a hum of contentment escapes the little dreaming mare's lips as she leans into the familiar caress. "Take a shot. I think you'll find that it's not as big of a gamble as you might guess." She then uses a hoof and tips my eyes so I am looking right into hers. "And don't you ever be ashamed 'bout your feelings."

I inhale sharply as I look into her honest and loving eyes. I can't help but be a little choked up. Momma is so tough and she rarely shows a tender side like this, but when she does, it's real, and completely from her heart.

In fear I might start to blubber a bit, I utter what I can. "...'kay." It comes out a hair above a whisper, but it's loud enough and speaks volumes between the two of us.

The mare who raised me pulls me into a warm hug, which I gladly return. She then moves back to the hitch of the family wagon and latches herself in.

Before she pulls off, I hook my forelegs over the side of the Roadster and lean in to my daughter.

"Traitor." I whisper down to her and smile. It doesn't take a detective to figure out she had blabbed to Momma that I lost that wrestling match to Ranger, and his price to let me out of one his painless, but immobilizing holds, was dinner at his favorite greasy spoon when we got back, and I had to treat. I lean down and she smiles in her sleep as I kiss her on the forehead goodnight.

"Just one question, Winding." Momma says as she sured up the hitch.

"Yeah, Momma?"

"Did you throw the fight or did he really have you kissin' the canvas?"

She doesn't wait for answer, instead she just chuckles a bit at my mute indignation and rolls on out of town. The truth was the latter but the idea that she thought the former was just as bad. Instead, I just kick at the dirt and stomp off.

"Why is everypony naggin' on me today?" I growl to myself.

"I told you, you make it so easy." A familiar voice comes from above. I look up to see Ranger peering down at me from the top of the Appleloosa water tower. How he managed to squirrel up there without anypony noticing was beyond me, but the fact that he heard me muttering to myself all the way down here was something I had grown accustomed to. That stallion has 'rabbit ears', that's the only explanation for it.

"So," I say arching my neck up to meet his gaze, "shall we get going?"

"In a minute." He says casually, before pulling his head back from the edge. After a moment of silence I spread my wings and ascend to the top with a series of light flaps and leaps. I come to the top of the red wood tower to find him sitting on his haunches, and its no surprise to me that he is staring up at the stars.

This was a usual tradition for him. Whether on the trail or back on the homestead, I would find him outside just staring off into Luna's painted night sky. Those first few weeks it was a manic, frantic affair. His eyes would be desperately searching for something, anything familiar. As the months past, it became more subdued, until eventually it just became a quiet pastime before he turned in for the night.

I remember the first night I sat out with him. At first it was just another silent affair. We didn't speak of why we were out there, even though I knew it wasn't the view, not entirely. Eventually I got to telling him all about the constellations and the stories behind them; the ones Daddy told me. Then he got to telling me about the things he and his father did together, and that bled into things he did with his family, his children, and his...wife.

I come up quietly from behind, trying not disturb my friend. On my approach I take a moment and regard the stallion before me. He was a strong, certainly tough, and about as brave as they come, but against the backdrop of the vastness of the sky he looked so small and unassuming. Insignificant. Above all else though, he looked so...lost.

"Princess Luna is spoiling us tonight." He says, not taking his eyes off the canvas that was dotted with millions of sparkling stars only partially dimmed by the bright third quarter moon.

"Yeah, Princess Celestia may have painted the night for the last thousand years," I come to a seat next to the big guy, "but her sister does have more of a flare for what she does best."

He gives a quiet affirmation before we drift back into a companionable silence.

After a few minutes he speaks up, "You don't really have to take me out." His voice level and reverent in the hallowed silence of the night.

"A deal is a deal." I insist proudly. "B'sides I am a bit hungry." I admit, feeling the ache for something substantial to eat apart from the beans, apples, dry grass, and hard tack we had got the last four days on the trail. "And your not the worst company to have." I hope he didn't notice me blush when I said that.

Either way, Ranger chuckles lightly as he looks down to the horizon. The barren landscape is basked in a blanket of muted blue; a stark contrast to the copper red it has during the day. A small desert wind whips past and causes me to shudder a bit, as the chill cuts through me. I look down and close up my jacket and roll the collar up. It helps, but a sudden shift in the roof of the water tower startles me for a moment...and then wind is no longer a problem.

I look up to find that Ranger has scooted closer to me and is now gently pressing his side against mine to help keep me warm and block the wind. Its by no means a lewd, nor overly forward gesture; ponies after all are social creatures and contact helps us bond as friends. However, he didn't always share that understanding or belief, making this moment something of no minor significance. I look over to see he isn't looking at me, in fact he is doing his best to hide his eyes with his cap tilted down, and I swear I can detect the hint of his own blush beneath the shade of the brim. Doing what feels right, I press back against him, savoring the feeling as the warmth of bodies feed into one another.

It's quiet for the longest time, all I can hear is his steady breath and my heart pounding in my chest like a sledgehammer.

Momma's words echo in my mind, so 'I take a shot'. I slowly turn my head and gently press the brim of my hat against his chin allowing it to push off my head and fall back onto my neck. The stampede strap goes taught and I find myself in the very comfortable but VERY forward position of being snugly pressed against his neck. My head tucked beneath his chin, and now my heart is beating louder then a locomotive.

I half expect him to shuffle back confused or repulsed. But neither happens. Instead he seems to lean back into me, letting out a heavy breath as I feel him relax into my affection.

'Oh sweet Luna, please don't let this be a dream.' I beg to the Princess whose night sky made this moment happen, and whose world of dreams could make it all a cruel fantasy.

"This is a big step." His voice comes quietly above me.

Confused, I reluctantly tilt my head back to face him, but leave my body pressed to him. His face has a tender smile on it. "For... ponies. Isn't it?"

At that moment, I slowly feel my resolve buckle. "A-ah ain't tryin' to be...pushy, or forward. Ah'd understand...if you don't feel ready...to...move on." All of the sudden, this seems like the worst idea I ever had and I can feel panic start to creep through my mind. I pull away as I feel my heart sink and my courage utterly abandons me.

"Ah'm sorry, Ah shouldn't of done that." I take a step back, and flare my wings. I want to bolt, I want to fly away, far away from my mistake and never look back. I feel so bad that I can't look at him, and feel tears come to my eyes.

"Ah-ah was only t-thinking of what ah wanted. I didn't even consider...how different....this would be for you." Tears begin to fall freely as my legs begin to buckle.

Just as I feel my world is about to break, I feel a pair of grey hooves wrap around me and pulls me close once more. The action eases my anxiety but only just so.

"It's okay, Windy." He coos softly into my ear. "Please...don't leave." With those words I fall limp into his embrace and bury my head into his chest. We stay like that for a time, he cradles me in his forelegs as the last of my bottled up fear and doubt ebb away with each dwindling sob that escapes me. All that I feel now is the warm embrace of the pony I came to care so deeply for....
the pony who I selfishly wanted for myself...the pony who could never go home again.

Chapter 4 (End?)

Chapter 4

“Ah don't care what she said, Glory!” I say exasperated to the indignant filly to my side. “Yah don't solve your problems by taking a swing at anypony who makes things hard on yah.”

“Even if she deserved it?” Said filly mumbles, gruffly kicking the dust as we continue up the path toward home.

“Especially if she deserved it.” I say looking down on her sour expression. “It ain't proper tah go round pickin’ fights.”

“You and uncle Cross fight all the time!” She said stamping a hoof to punctuate her point.

“That-that's different.” I say with a slight falter, but I need to power through this.

“How?” She questions back sharply.

Dangit. “You're still grounded.”

Her mouth hangs open for a bit before she grunts and returns looking forward, her brow knitted, her expression fixed in an angry pout.

It's going on five o’clock in the evening. That little side step to pick Glory up from an after school detention has put me behind in my work on the ranch.

‘Extra chores tah be doled out tomorrow to a fiery lil’ pony for causin’ such a ruckus.’ I resolve to myself as I further regard my daughter.

Still, I can't help but feel for her. Getting made fun of for not having a cutie mark was far from unheard of. So much so that it was an unfortunate part of growing up. I’d been there, but being told that it was ‘alright’ didn't make it feel any easier.

Slowly, I reach for my little pony. She stiffens up to my hoof, makes no effort to pull away, but neither does she face me either.

“Darlin’, ah..”

“...Momma...” Her voice comes out barely louder than a whisper. She remains rigid and her eyes are fixed on the road ahead, her eyes looking like she has seen a ghost.

I turn, and I am sure my expression is the same.

A stone's throw in front of us is the body of a large earth stallion. He lays on his side his muzzle buried in the dirt and his body unmoving. I've lived out in the Appleloosan expanse near all my life, I've seen what the heat and near endless desolation can do to a pony. Heck, had my own wayward trek into the wastes when I was a lot younger and more than a might stupider. Simply put; it ain't a pretty sight.

But this sorry sod before us now even turns my stomach.

His lips were cracked, dried blood patches stained his face. That wasn't the disturbing part though.

His eyes were equally blistered and red from however long he was out their. Still that wasn't the worst part.

I can see a grizzly trail of blood behind him where he seemed to have dragged himself on the desert floor for quite a ways. His fetlocks and hooves have thistles and cuts and are bleeding out. Bits of dirt and gravel imbedded in his skin prevented his wounds from clotting. Nope, that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst of it was he was completely bare. By that, I don't mean he weren't wearing a hat or vest, which he weren't. No, I mean, he didn't have a speck of hair on him. From nose to the tip of his tail, he was simply devoid of anything resembling hair. Instead, his hide was exposed and with that came the merciless burning from sweet Celestia’s namesake.

“...Oh sweet Faust…” I whisper under my breath, removing my hat out of condolence for the sight I know will haunt me for the rest of my days. I pull Glory to me and turn her about so that she won't see this anymore than she already has, for whatever good that will do at this point. Rather than fight me, she nuzzles closer, wrapping her forelegs around my own. Prairie life has made her a tough filly, but no amount of grit and spit can prepare somepony to see something like this.

With a sigh, I give her a nuzzle.

“You okay, baby?”

She silently nods her eyes are obscured from me by her bangs, It's not hard to tell she is pretty shook up.

I wrap my wings around her, and pull her close. “S’ok, the desert is a harsh place, sadly,this can happen from time to time.” Once again she nods a bit. “Come on.” I say ushering her past the body, and closer to home. “Run on ahead, tell your uncle to bring the wagon and a blanket. We can at least see to it that he gets a proper send off.” I look down and brush the hair from her eyes and see tears lingering in the corners. “When your done go find Grandma, tell her what happened.”

With a foreleg she wipes her muzzle, recomposing herself. “What about you, Momma?” She says her eyes wandering over to the stallion reluctantly.

“Ah'm gonna stay with him.” Motioning over my wither. “Make sure he’s left in peace till the wagon gits here.” I say reverently, before using a wing to once again block the view from Glory.

“O-okay.” She says with a solemn nod. I give her a peck on the forehead and send her off. The top of the Ranch is just visible over the next ridge, won't take her but five minutes to get their.

With Glory gone, I get to the gritty part of looking over the body. He is a big one, or was I suppose. Must of stood a good head and a half over me. His sun ravaged skin was blistered all over his neck, back, and face. Though oddly only on his left side.

Looking where he came out of the west, I reasoned he must of been walking for a good few hours and the exposure eventually caught up with him.

“Probably got lost, from a caravan or something.” I muse aloud to my silent friend. Immediately, my mind went to a bandit attack. Those rats had been causing trouble in the area for years, and sad to say here was yet another victim.

The lack of a coat made trying to identify him by a cutie mark pointless. It was that oddity that bothered me the most. Not only was it exceptionally cruel, but the job that had been done was absolutely perfect. On closer inspection I saw he did even have eyelashes.

Sitting on my haunches next to the large stallion, I tipped my hat back and felt a swell of pity. “Nopony should die like this.” I pull out my trusty tin canteen and take a swig, feeling particularly parched. Looking to the north I could see the outline of the newly christened town of Appleloosa. It's wooden structures; many still under construction, standing a beacon, or maybe a flicker, of civilization. Closer still was our ranch.

“Poor colt was so close.”

I take another pull off the canteen, before feeling oddly selfish. “Well,” I casually say as I approach with the canteen, “better late than never, right partner?” I grimly quip as a let a stream of water pour on his face.

“-KOFF-KAFF-!”

I must of near jumped clean out of my skin as the stallion started to sputter and wheeze, his eyes bloodshot and wide as he desperately went after the droplets of water that ran off his face.

“SAINTS ALIVE!” I say staggering back trembling like bit on a railroad track. “You're ….A-live!” I exclaimed ever so eloquently.

Whether the stallion heard me or not I’ll never know because he was currently trying to pull himself toward my canteen that I had dropped on to the equally parched sand. I watched, frozen as he made to grab the discarded item, clumsily trying to pick it up with his hooves, but seeming to be unable to do so. With raspy growl he then attempted to use his mouth but was met with equal trouble, spilling some precious water on the sand below eliciting a whimper from the frantic stallion, as his weak body falls to the ground in a heap.

Not willing to watch this go on, I snatch up the canteen in a hoof and walk up to him.

“Let me help yah.” I say coming closer, garnering a huff and a growl from him, as he tries to shuffle away. Despite his to Tataurus and back appearance, his eyes convey a sense of uncertainty and mistrust. He cautiously looks at me, as if I am some sort of alien. I can't help but notice though that his eyes dart from me to the canteen in my hoof, as if he is deciding how he can get it away from me even in his weakened state.

“Now just take it easy mister, ah ain't gonna hurt yah.” I say closing the gap. In a surprising but vain attempt he launches himself at the canteen once more, apparently set on just taking what he needs. I am ready, however, with a quick flap, I have back peddled out of reach, causing him to come crashing back down on his side, sending him into a fit of dry coughing.

“You done?” I say looking down at the sorry looking fella. He simply glares at me and rolls to his side trying to get his wheezing under control.

Now, I was raised to be generous, to gladly lend a hoof to anypony in need, and this situation weren't any different. Still this old colt’s gruff attitude weren't exactly glossing my coat, lowly he may be. I look once more at him, he is no longer coughing, but by his pained expression, that was the least of his problems. ‘Where in wide world of Equestria is Cross with that flippin’ wagon!’ I grumble to myself. My eyes glance over his sun blistered shorned body. ‘Celestia blast it, Ah hope he don't have the mange or nothin’.’

Canteen in hoof, wings spread for courage, I stomp over to him. I lean down to him and bring my face about an inch from his. “Looky here, sunshine.” I say through gritted teeth. “You NEED mah help, so stop flailin’ about like fish in a mud hole,” I narrow my eyes at him, “and let me!”

Once again he doesn't answer, instead he simply eyes me, with as much indignation a dying pony can muster, and then with rattley huff, he relaxes.

“That's better,” I sit down next to him “now c’mere.” His eyes go wide as I bring his head toward my forelegs and cradle it their. Using a fore leg I prop up his head and with the other I begin to give him a thin stream of water from my canteen. His shock at the awkward action subsides quickly as the life giving liquid hit his parched tongue. To garner more he tries to grab at the canteen to increase the flow. With fwick of a wing I push his hoof back, “None of that!” I scold him “Lil’ sips. It won't due tah drown y’urself.” His hoof freezes mid air in contemplation, before it returns to the earth. “Glad we understand one another, now take a breather.”

I tip the canteen back and allow him a moment. Another coughing fit seizes him and I help him turn once again to his side to quelch it. He turns back, his breathing labored but noticeably less haggard.

Once again, I meet his eyes. This time around I notice that the redness belies a gentle shade of jade green. I searched in those eyes, and I could see they searched me back…

That's how it all started, I suppose...

Author's Note

That's it?

Fraid so folks.

As much as I loved writing this and coming up with these characters, and I truly do love them. I hit a creativity road block with this story.

I tried and tried to work with it, but I couldn't get past the feeling like I wrote myself into a corner.

I may go back and tweek a few things, might even drastically change some things, but for now this story is in limbo.

So sorry if I let anyone down, but I will come back at this story with renewed vigor at a later date.

Until then, happy trails

Sipioc

Art by Jazzie Q