He walked through the silent town in the evening, when the dim orange hue of the sun was still lingering on the horizon. White snow covered the rooves of the log cabins and small brick abodes and cottages. A giant black coat he wore, covering his head covered in a hood which cast a dark shadow onto his face. The windows of the small cottages burned a dark flickering yellow. All looked cosy and warm, a significant contrast to the bitter cold that lingered on the ground and in the air.
As he exhaled, steam formed in front of him, fogging his vision slightly. He soon came to stop at a small log building, outside of which hung a sign that read: ‘Snowfall Inn.’ He peered through the windows to find what he was looking for; a bar. He slipped inside, and uncovered his head from the large hood he wore. The merry chatter of the ponies sitting around the bar created a pleasant background noise.
Walking over to the counter, he took a couch of bits from the small saddlebags he was carrying. He peered inside. It was almost empty, only eleven gleaming gold coins remaining. He captured the attention of the barkeeper by waving a hoof. “Can you get a whisky please?” he asked softly.
“Sure thing,” replied the barkeeper and set to work cleaning a glass with his small cloth and picking a whiskey from the shelf. The barkeeper set the glass on the counter and poured a generous amount of whiskey into the glass.
The stranger made small talk with the barkeeper, taking small sips from glass until empty. It probably took more than an hour, seeing that this alcohol was quite strong, and downing at once would have resulted in a burning throat and whatnot. He sat there, mind numb as he tried to clear his brain of every of his worries. It was proven unsuccessful when he caught a pegasus mare walking towards the door shakily on her own.
Being the generous and kind pony he was, he probably would have helped, but the effects of alcohol slowed his decision making time down to a snail’s pace and it took several seconds for him to even register she was there, stumbling slightly. He hopped onto his hooves, called for the bill and left the owed amount of bits on the table.
He trotted out of the inn, closing the door gently behind him. He looked around and spotted the turquoise mare and galloped after her. He did not know what drove him to make this decision, most ponies would have just shrugged and minded their own business. He rushed up to her and caught her by a wing as she stumbled yet again. She looked up with amber eyes and asked, “Who are you?” slightly slurring her speech.
“Iron Skies, but that isn’t important right now,” said he, taking the chance to look at her completely. An electric yellow mane with stripes of different shades of the respective colour, a turquoise coat and brilliant amber eyes she bore. He focused on her eyes. Deep and rich in colour they were, nearly bringing him into a trance. “What is yours, may I ask?”
As they walked down the barren, snow laden streets, beside which lay houses with warm lights, she answered. “My name is Lightning Dust,” she managed to say. Blocks have been covered as they walked parallel to each other to nowhere in particular.
“Where do you lead me?” asked Iron as he fell behind slightly, legs tiring from the long trot, and head slightly fogged by the sizeable amount of alcohol he partook in at the bar.
“Home,” she answered lazily, “And I am not leading you. You are merely following me now,” she added, “Besides, I can use some company.”
“Are you sure?” questioned Iron. He did need a place to stay the night after all, but he was lost in the course of events that just so happened to him that particular night.
“Why would I ask?” she asked rhetorically, slowing down just enough so that Iron could match her pace.
“Don’t answer a question with a question, Lighting,” Iron replied, not caring if the question she asked was rhetorical or not.
She ignored Iron for a moment, and then tilted her head to the heavens. “It’s a beautiful night,” she observed.
Iron himself looked up at the night sky and yes, it was a beautiful night. The dark sky was clear with no clouds to obscure the stars, which glistened like miniscule silvery orbs in the night sky. The milky galactic cloud that ran a stripe across sky looked as colourful as ever, the occasional flash of a meteor streaking through it.
Lighting looked dazed from the copious amount of alcohol she probably ingested that night and stumbled yet again, but this time not managing to pick herself up. Iron felt like he recovered somewhat from the beverage he drank, and rushed to assistance, propping her up with a wing and moving his body in the way to support her weight.
“R-right here,” she stuttered as she tried to stand independently again, failing miserably and leaning back onto Iron. Instead, she pointed a hoof of hers towards the small cabin they were standing next to. The lights were out and the windows were a pitch black.
“Alright,” muttered Iron as he pushed open the small whitewashed fence gate. He stepped hoof inside the reaches of the property, into a small front garden which bore some bushes which surrounded the border of the house and small night blue flowers with golden stamens that seemed to shine. “Keys?” Iron asked as he guided Lightning up the small steps up to her door.
She fumbled and eventually produced a small brass key from under her wing. Iron took it from her and unlocked the spruce door and pushed gently. The old door creaked on its hinges and swung open slowly, revealing a dark living room. The room looked messy, but what was he to judge what somepony else’s house looked like?
Iron helped her onto the couch and then proceeded to light the chandelier hanging from the ceiling with a switch that used magic to light the thing, or some other concept that he had no understanding of. He shut the door gently and observed the room. It was cosy, containing a red couch facing the fireplace, which was empty of firewood and contained the blackened remnants of the wood that once burned there; ashes.
“Do you require any more assistance?” Iron asked the mare, who lay herself down on the couch.
“No,” she replied, “You can take the bed id you want, it’s on the first door to your left if you enter the hallway through the kitchen.”
Well, that was good as any good offer could get. Iron took it wordlessly and meandered his way through the kitchen, down a dark hallway and into a room containing a bed, bedsheets messily tucked onto the mattress, the covers in a heap at the foot of the bed. A window looked over the snowy valley – such a beautiful scene – and a cabinet of trophies stood beside the window, glistening in the moonlight.
Iron found himself fatigued, not able to maintain a linear and sensible thought process. He laid himself on the bed without a second thought, pulled a blanket over him scruffily and closed his eyes. Within seconds, he was asleep, as the night went on.