All he wanted to do was sleep. Unfortunately, the world didn't seem to want to let him. The ambient noises, he was used to by this point. The rumbling of the wheels on the tracks, the pathetic chugging of the damaged, pony-assisted engine, all of that was in the background now. He had been on the train more than long enough to ignore it. What he couldn't ignore, though, was the incessant jabbering of the mares in the next car. Too sporadic and random to fade into the background, and too muffled to be understood, the voices only served to keep him awake.
They've been at it non-stop since the train stopped over in Ponyville. Don't they have to get some sleep too? Luckily, he wasn't the only pony having this problem.
"Would you all be quiet, NOW!"
Even from the next car, he could hear the shout loud and clear. The mares listened, too, immediately falling silent and leaving him with his long sought after peace and quiet.
One more day on this train, then I'm home free, he told himself.
Free to do what? the rational part of his mind asked. He didn't have an answer.
"Two days? I'm stuck in this dusty hole of a town for two days?"
"That's what I said," the stallion behind the counter replied, obviously not taking kindly to having his hometown called a "dusty hole." "That old engine finally gave out completely, meaning that it'll take a lot more than a team of four ponies to get it moving again, and no amount of complaining is going to make the repairs go any faster, Mister... Snowball." He suppressed a chuckle as he read the name on the ticket.
"Go ahead, laugh it up. See what that get's you," Snowball replied, scowling as he swept his ticket off the counter and into his saddlebag with a wing. It's not that Snowball was a particularly silly name for a pegasus, he'd seen much worse. No, ponies found his name funny because he did not look like a Snowball in the slightest. His dull grey coat and short, light brown mane made him look more like giant dust bunny than snow, and his cutie mark didn't have anything to do with it either. It was just some swirling blue lines, depicting a gust of wind. He was more or less convinced by this point that his mother named him that to toughen him up, something that she would neither confirm nor deny when asked.
"Look, just make sure you're back here with that ticket at nine in the morning two days from now, and you'll be let back on the train, free of charge. For now, enjoy your stay in Appleoosa. Sorry for the inconvenience."
Well, now what? Wandering out the front door of the train station, he decided to look around town and come up with a plan for the next few days. Plans. All I seem to do is plan, and nothing ever works out. I couldn't even catch a train home from Canterlot without losing sleep, getting tossed about by a freak buffalo attack, and ending up stranded in a backwater frontier town. Even when traveling, I'm a washout. Still, a failed plan was better than no plan, in his book, so it was time to see what Appleoosa had to offer.
If there was one thing that stuck out about the town compared to anywhere else he had ever been, it was the weather. Appleoosa was hot. It didn't take long for Snowball to realize why almost all of the ponies around here wore wide-brimmed hats. Any amount of shade was welcome in this heat.
How can these ponies stand it? Most towns have a weather team to keep things from getting this bad, but I don't think there's enough water around here for morning dew, much less some cloud cover. Cloudsdale doesn't deliver this far out in the frontier lands either... All the thoughts of water only served to remind the pony that he hadn't had any to drink since breakfast. There's got to be a well or something around here somewhere.
"...and here's our local watering hole, The Salt Block!" said a voice from nearby. Snowball turned to see a yellow stallion shoving four mares down the street in an impressive display of strength. They came to a stop in front of a large building with a picture of a salt shaker painted on the sign above the door. Judging by three of the mares' lack of headgear, they probably arrived on the train today as well, and the stallion was giving them the grand tour. Snowball considered tagging along to get a feel for the town, but he had already been shown exactly what he was looking for. Eager to get out of the sun, the pegasus trotted into the saloon, taking care to avoid a recently ejected patron who looked like he had been hitting the salt a bit too hard.
Snowball had read about this exact type of situation in adventure novels before. The saloon is full of cheerful guests, with lots of shouting and music. Then the protagonist enters. Everyone in the bar stops and stares, sizing up the outsider. Undeterred, the protagonist casually strolls up to the bar and orders a drink. A foolish patron proceeds to pick a fight with the protagonist, and within seconds a full fledged brawl has broken out. The protagonist knocks a few people out, flips over a few tables, finishes his drink, and flies off into the sunset. That last part could be a bit of a problem, considering that he had to stay in town for a few days. He doubted that he could slip in without attracting a ton of attention either, thanks to his wings and lack of a hat. Luckily for him, reality turned out to be much nicer than fiction.
"Hey boys, looks like we've got ourselves a newcomer!" Rather than cold looks of suspicion or indifference, the pegasus was greeted by a rousing cheer from The Salt Block's patronage. Before he could react, he was surrounded by ponies, swept off his hooves, and placed on a stool in front of the bar. A burly looking stallion with a tan coat and yellow mane sat next to him. "We don't get too many new ponies 'round these parts, much less any of you winged folk," the pony said. Snowball recognized the voice as the same one that shouted when he entered the building. "Name's Gold Nugget, and I make a point to personally greet anypony who's new to our fair town here that I come across. Now, first thing's first, what'll you be havin' here today? First drink's on me!"
Are all the ponies in this town so... forward? Snowball wondered, remembering the stallion outside giving the forced tour. He wasn't exactly sure how to react to such a warm welcome. "Oh, uh, a glass of water, please. I just want something cold to drink."
"Ya want something cold?" Nugget chuckled at the request. "Boy, you ain't gonna find anything cold to drink 'round here unless you can find a unicorn to conjure it up for ya, and we don't have any. Besides, you can do better than water!" Without missing a beat, he turned and shouted down to the other end of the bar. "Hey Barkeep, get my feathered friend here a sarsaparilla, and put it on my tab!"
By the time he had managed to escape from The Salt Block, the sun was already setting in the west, lighting up the sky with an incredible crimson light. He found himself flying aimless circles above the town, unsure of what to do. While the company of Gold Nugget and his crew certainly wasn't unpleasant, the nature of their conversations had been nearly one-sided, with Snowball barely able to get a word in of his own. It was a relief to be alone with his thoughts once more.
At least all that talk was informative, he thought, going over a few important facts he had managed to glean from all of the chatter. This town is new. Really new. So new that they're still having issues with the native Buffalo tribe that used to stampede through where their orchard stands now. That means that most new arrivals tend to be either visiting family or intending to build their own homestead. No hotels or inns, they'd go out of business rather quick in this place. I Certainly don't have any family to stay with, either. The thought of his family settling down in a place like this was quite amusing. They wouldn't get along with the ponies here at all. They'd just start a fight. The situation at hoof, though, was quick to put a damper on his good spirits. Weighing his options for lodging, Snowball came to the conclusion that he had none. He landed on the outskirts of town, coming to rest in the shadow of a large, gnarled apple tree.
"What am I even doing here?" he asked no one in particular. I never had to leave home. Once did, I never had to to go back. Frustrated, he struck the nearby tree with a swipe of a front hoof. It barely left a scratch. "Pathetic..." he mumbled to himself before laying down at the base of trunk. If I'm going to sleep outside tonight, here's as good a place as any. Removing his saddlebags, he placed them on the ground next to himself to use as a makeshift pillow. Tomorrow will be better. He promised himself.
You always say that, the cynic in him replied.
You gotta shaaaaaaare, you gotta caaaaaaare,
it's the right thing to do!
As awful as it was, Snowball could not get that song out of his head. It was the worst kind of bad song, the kind that wormed its way into your mind, taking root and playing over and over. All it would take is the smallest thing to remind yourself of it, and you'd be humming it for hours. In the end, though, he was glad he had something to keep his mind off the world around him, because things were getting weird, fast. When he went to sleep the night before, he had expected to wake up and spend the day hunting for odd jobs for food and a place to stay. Instead, he awoke to a bizarre performance put on by an overdressed pink earth pony mare and a baby dragon in a bowler cap, of all things, in an attempt to broker peace between the townsponies and the buffalo tribe. It failed rather miserably, prompting the buffalo to give the ponies a strict ultimatum. Predictably, the ponies had no intention of backing down, and immediately prepared to fight off the buffalo. In the span of an hour, the peaceful, bustling town had become a war zone, and the ponies were already beginning to erect fortifications and stockpile improvised weaponry, mostly consisting of apple pies.
Snowball had no intention of fighting alongside the Appleoosans. This wasn't his home, or his war, and is train home left that morning. He would be long gone by the time the battle started. What he wasn't opposed to, however, was helping out setting up defenses around town. Being able to fly got him work easily, which would earn him enough apple pies to last him a day or two when he finished. Currently, he was ferrying carts of apples back and forth between the orchard and the bakery, his wings allowing his to bypass the long, winding trail out of the valley into town.
You gotta shaaaaaaare, you gotta caaaaaaare,
and there'll always be a way through!
"Well, don't you just look like a mess," a voice said as he touched down at the bakery, snapping the pegasus out of the awful song trapped in his skull. The voice belonged to a white mare curly black mane sticking out from under one of the wide-brimmed hats popular amongst the locals, standing in the doorway of the bakery. And she was right, he was a mess. Sleeping on the ground had left him covered in dirt and dust, and his mane was sticking up in all sorts of directions (though, to be fair, it always looked like that). The fact that hauling things through the air in this heat was sweaty work didn't help either.
"Do you have anything else to say, or were you just commenting on my dashing good looks?" Snowball replied as he unstrapped himself from the cart. It felt good to use some sarcasm. He didn't get to nearly often enough.
"Well, I just finished talking with the head baker, and she has more than enough apples for the time being, so she said I could borrow you for a little project, that is, if you're not afraid of ruining your simply stunning coiffure." The mare replied, returning his sarcasm in kind.
The stallion laughed. "I don't know, my coiffure is pretty important... What do you have in mind?"
"Don't worry, your mane looks like it could take a twister dead on and come out looking the same. Just walk with me, I'll explain it on the way. I'll even try not to ruffle your feathers too much." She set off down the main street of the town at a brisk trot, forcing Snowball to gallop a shot distance to catch up. One he did, though, a serious look came over the mare's face. "First thing's first: introductions. I'm Quick Draw, you?"
"Snowball."
"Okay then, Snowball, here's the situation."
What, no wisecrack? No asking if I'm joking? Not even a awkward glance? When did she get so intense?
"Sheriff Silver Star needs a map of the town drawn up so he can better plan the defenses," she continued. "Appleoosa's been growing and shifting so much this past year that nopony's bothered yet. I'm an artist by trade, somewhat of a rarity in this place, meaning that I'm the only pony here fit to play cartographer." She glanced back at her cutie mark, a pencil overlaid on a blank canvas, as she said this, and for a moment she smiled with what appeared to be pride before retuning to her more serious demeanor "In order to draw the map accurately and quickly, I need a bird's eye view of the town, which is where you come in. You got all that?"
"I think so. I just have to haul you into the air, and you sketch out the town. Sounds easy enough. You'll need to get a cart from someone to stand in, though."
"Not a problem, that's where we're heading right now."
"Sounds like a plan." One that will actually work out for once, hopefully. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Snowball attempted to revive the conversation. "You're kinda strange, you know that?"
"How so?" Quick Draw replied, caught off guard by the bluntness of the statement.
"One moment, you're all lighthearted and sarcastic, then the next you get really serious and determined, like someone flipped a switch in your head."
"It's the job."
"Huh?"
"If something's worth doing, it's worth doing right, and if you want to do something right, you get it right the first time. That's my philosophy. Once it came down to explaining the task at hoof, how could I not take it seriously?" She smiled, allowing herself to lighten up for a bit. "In any case, you're pretty strange yourself."
"Oh? This should be interesting to hear. What's so strange about me?"
"Besides the name? I draw ponies for a living, which means I have to look at their posture, the way they move, and just about every other visual trait they have in order to properly capture them on paper. You, my friend, do not carry yourself like any pony I've ever met. You look like you're always trying to intimidate those around you, even when you're just talking to them normally. You also lack a certain... bounce to your step that most ponies have. You're barely leaving the ground when you trot at this pace."
"Personally, I always found it weird how bouncy you all are. Then again, it's kinda hard to be naturally bouncy when you fly all the time." Snowball chuckled. "Besides, everyone has their quirks."
"That's another thing."
"What?"
"I've counted at least three times in the past few minutes that you've said 'someone' or 'everyone' rather than 'somepony' or 'everypony.'"
"So?"
"It's just weird, is all."
"There are more people out there than ponies, you know."
"Not around here, there aren't."
"What about the buffalo?"
"Well, I-I, uh..." she stammered for a bit, trying to think of a response. "They don't count."
"Come on, now you're just cheating!" The ridiculousness of the thought of cheating at a debate caused Snowball to break out laughing. The levity was contagious, and soon both ponies were chuckling about the silly turn the conversation had taken.
"Okay, that's enough, we're here." They had arrived at the outskirts of town, where a small, wooden cart, just large enough to hold a single pony, was waiting. "Go ahead and slip into the harness, I have to get a few things set up." Quick Draw snapped back into business mode and began rooting through the contents of the wagon as Snowball approached the front of it.
The harness was a bit thicker and more rigid than the one on the apple cart, meaning that he couldn't wear it over top of his saddlebags. He slipped them off and placed them in the wagon, just as Quick Draw emerged from it wearing a pouch full of pencils and peculiar contraption around her neck. It looked like a flat board attached to metal brackets that held it out in front of her head, completely blocking her face from view.
"What the hay is that?"
"It's a portable easel," she said, adjusting the position of the board with her nose so that she could see more easily as she took her place in the cart. "I designed it myself, and constructed it out of an old camera harness. Lets me sketch on the go."
"Impressive." Snowball donned the cart's harness and prepared for takeoff. "So, have you ever flown before?"
"Nope," Quick Draw replied, "But you're the one who has to do the actual work in that department. I just have to not walk off the cart. Easy as pie."
If only it actually had been that easy.
To Be Continued...
