Those Who Wander

"CUT! Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut! What the hay am I looking at out there?"

"Why, I was rallying our troops to attack the vile barbarians that have set up a base at Nadira! Once I have sounded this-"

"Not you, Fiddler. You're doing fine. You're always doing fine. At least, I have to assume that you're doing fine, because I can't see your face because I hired a complete moron to work the boom mic! Do you ponies have any idea what it means to actually create a motion picture? Because I would really like to let you know if you don't, but I'm having a little trouble doing that when I have to work around some half-wit whose entire job consists of standing in one place holding something, and she can still find a way to screw that up! Whatever your name is, you can go make me a big pot of coffee while I have someone, literally anyone else here, hold onto that microphone, and maybe when you get back, you can get a nice lesson in standing around quietly, because apparently it's not the sort of thing that comes naturally to you!"

"Um, yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

I run off to fetch Mr. Cut his coffee, just like he asked. I have no idea how he wants his coffee and he knows it, of course, but I can't really do much but get it for him at this point. If I say anything else, it seems pretty likely that I'll end up fired. He's really angry.

I bump into a few other ponies on the way to the break room, and they aren't too happy about it, but I have to apologize and rush past. I'm right on the edge of losing my job, and if I do that, I'll probably never be able to face my mother again.

When I finally get to the break room, I look around for the coffee pot, and there's a roast already made, but it's cold, so I have to dump it out into the sink and start a new one. The break room consists mostly of a small counter with a built-in sink, a table with one chair, a trash can behind the door, and a large amount of supplies for making coffee. We have a much larger, nicer break room at the studio, but since we're filming out in a desert, we have to use a trailer. So, in the process of turning the machine on, putting the beans in, changing the filter, and adding the water, I probably fumble around the room for a good five minutes before I get everything ready. While I'm waiting for that to boil, I figure I should probably find a tray somewhere, and that way I can just bring him the cream and sugar with it, and that way, I won't have to worry about doing it wrong. Well, I look around and can't find one, so I eventually settle on a pizza box I find in the next room over. After it finishes brewing, I load it up with the coffee, cream, sugar, and stirring straws, and take it back outside.

As soon as I get out there, I trip over a cable. I can't say that I didn't see that coming a little bit. Everything that I had on top of my pizza box flies through the air, and I'm basically hoping at that point that I don't spill hot coffee on anyone important, but as soon as I fall over, Mr. Cut effortlessly levitates the coffee, as well as the sugar and one of the stirring sticks, as if he expected me to trip all along, and still wanted me to get hurt and have to clean the mess up. He doesn't even look at me. It's so humiliating, I'm almost ready to resign. I didn't want to look up to see if anyone was staring at me or not, but I could hear a few whispers here and there. I'm such a klutz, even I don't know how I manage to get by sometimes.

I just lie there for a while, and I watch the creamer spill out into the sand. After a few seconds, I see a brown hoof reach down and start picking up the straws. I look up to see Mr. Saddle, the star of the whole production, trying to help me out. I have to raise my voice to object.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Mr. Saddle! I've got it, so please don't bother inconveniencing yourself for my sake! It's nothing, really!"

I frantically try to pick up everything and get the sand out of it before he can help me too much, but I still can't leave without picking up everything, and he has the containers for both the stirring straws and the creamer in his hooves, so I still have to wait for those.

He takes a handful of straws and shakes them off, and then he turns to me and in a flawless Trottingham accent, he tells me, "Actually, it's Green, but you're not the first I've heard make that mistake. I must have a rather striking resemblance to this Saddle fellow everyone seems to keep going on about. Regardless, it's no trouble at all, my lady."

"Oh... Um, of course." I keep forgetting that he's one of those method actors. I'm only making his job harder by calling him by his real name. "Thank you, Mr. Green," I say finally, smiling up at him.

I get up and brush myself off, and it looks like everyone is already packing up for the day. That's probably for the best, because it means my little accident won't call for a re-shoot. Luckily, I'm not wearing any clothes for the sand to get into. I'll be glad when we get out of this desert. As long as he's still standing there, I should probably try my hoof at some small-talk.

"So, I guess the shoot's over. Not a lot else to do out here, huh?"

"Hmm.... I do realize the... admittedly barbaric nature of some tribes may drive many members of so-called 'high society' to christen them some sort of lesser species, but I can assure you that they are not as such, and I do not appreciate the jaded nature of your comment one bit, miss. No, not even a bit. Even out here on this battlefield, a pony ought to have more respect for the lives of others. To imply that a shooting is something so casual as the means to keep yourself entertained is something grotesque. If that be your attitude, I would call you more a barbarian than any of these fine citizens."

As soon as he says this, he trots off. I somehow managed to say the exact wrong thing, and I'm still not entirely sure how. I head back to the break room and dump everything in the trash except for the straw holder. When I come back, everyone is standing around chatting, but Mr. Saddle is standing on the top of a dune, looking out over the desert. He's wearing one of those head-cloth things, and it looks really cool in the wind. I decide I should probably try to say something else to him. I have to be extra-careful not to make things worse this time, so I figure I should play along with his role. I really should have been doing that this whole time, but I can never seem to think things through quite so well. I canter up to where he's standing, and we just stand there in silence for a while, overlooking the desert. It's beautiful. The sun is just about to go down, and you can see the reflection everywhere on the golden sand. It's bright enough where you have to stare for a while to really see it, though. There's probably about to be a really beautiful sunset.

"I don't believe I've gotten your name."

"Oh, uh, sorry. I'm Skywishes."

"Is that all one word, or is your first name Sky and your surname Wishes?"

"It's all one word."

"Ah. Very well, then. I'm glad, you know. I don't dislike the name Sky, but it is a bit common."

"Um, I'm sorry about earlier, by the way. You were right. I shouldn't have been so callous."

"Worry not. It's a very easy trap to fall into. So long as you realize your mistake, it likely shan't be difficult to remedy."

I shoot him a puzzled look. I'm not sure about this, but I think that last line might have broken dialect a little. He doesn't seem to notice. Maybe it was just me.

"So, then, Skywishes, what is a young..." He pauses to look down at my cutie mark, "kite flyer such as yourself doing out in the desert?"

"Huh? Oh, that. Well, I don't actually fly kites. I do like to fly a lot, but I don't actually really know why that's considered my talent, to be honest. I've never been good enough to do it professionally. Maybe if I practiced, but I don't really care about going fast or doing tricks or anything like that. I just like to soar around for leisure. It's really not much of a talent at all. That's why I'm working the boom mic, and not- I mean, um, that's why I joined the force."

"I see..."

He doesn't seem to have anything to say in response, so we just stand in silence there for a while. The sun finally starts to set, and it's beautiful, alright.

"I have always wished to be able to fly myself, you know. I believe it is a rather common thing to wish. I've often though that I-" he pauses suddenly, and starts squinting into the distance.

"Is something wrong?"

"I... I'm not sure. Do you see that?"

He points as he talks, and I look to see a little dot on the horizon.

"Yeah, kind of. I can't really make it out, though."

"Nor can I. Perhaps you ought to fly up there and find out what you can see. It may be a sign of trouble. In the meantime, I'd better alert the forces, just in case."

He takes off as soon as he's done talking, and I fly in the direction of the dot, just like I was told. It's really hot out there, but I go as fast as I can because he's counting on me. I actually am interested to find out what it is, of course, but it's probably nothing because we aren't actually at war with anyone. As I get farther away from the set, I can faintly hear a cry of "To arms!" in the distance behind me.