The muted crunch of hooves against snow served as the only source of sound for a lone pony, slowly creeping through the vast blanket of white. A golden mare, hoodie pulled up to cover her head, gazed confidently on, thriving in the safety of the silence as she marveled at the look of the land. She shifted a hoof, feeling the cold, crunchy texture of the snow beneath her. It brought a smile to her face, which was a sort of rare occurrence for this particular unicorn.
The mare was calm, poised, comfortable in the cold and barren environment. During a different time of year, this very field would be populated by dozens upon dozens of ponies, all frolicking in the open field of green. No, she wasn’t very far away from home at all. Rather, the weather had made it seem like an entirely different environment. It wasn’t often that Ponyville was presented with snow, but when it was, you could bet that Golden Scribble would be out to venture in the cold.
At this time of the year, most other ponies were bundled up in their homes in an attempt to avoid the snowstorms outside. To most, these conditions were dangerous- the thought of the unknown frozen world too much for them to even think about looking into. Scribble knew better than this. Every year, she spent much of her time out in the storm, allowing the scenery to fill her mind with inspiration. Inspiration she would later use to write stories, and earn a decent living.
Her working conditions would be considered odd by the vast majority of ponykind, but nobody knew of them aside from her and her employer. Scribble was a freelance writer, who conjured up tales of faraway worlds, bit by bit to publish in local newspapers. Every time a part of the story was finished, she would mail it into the office of the Ponyville Times for them to publish. A week later, she would receive a check in the mail to keep her afloat. At no point did she ever make physical contact with the members of the staff; this was her favorite part of the job.
Was she antisocial? Did she suffer from anxiety? Amazingly, no. Golden Scribble was simply a mare that valued her privacy. She had no issues talking to other ponies, she just prefered not to, if at all possible. Scribble was very much an introvert, who never found it necessary to rely on others to keep her happy. She kept in contact with her family, stopped by to visit every now and again, but aside from that, she was alone.
And in her mind, there was nothing wrong with that.
Truth be told, her writings were rather popular throughout Ponyville. Some would line up in front of stand early in order to get the most recent chapter of her ongoing tale. Even with this sort of niche popularity, the unicorn prefered to stay undercover, publishing all of her work under the pen name “Moonlight Sonata,” a rather elegant sounding name that was designed to trick ponies into thinking the author was someone much more popular and important than she really was. Those who passed by her on the streets of Ponyville would never even think that this quiet, reserved pony could ever be a renowned author.
Scribble turned around, back in the direction of her house. Her trip had been a success; her mind was flowing with ideas and inspiration for her stories. She trotted back at a distinct pace- not hasty, but not quite hesitant, either. Scribble had ideas to jot down, yet still had respect for the moment. She was persistent on not taking her surroundings for granted. This was her favorite time of the year for a reason, after all! So as she began her journey back home, embracing the feel of the chilled winds on her pelt, the only sound that could be heard was the crunch of hoofsteps as they pressed into the snow.
