There’s No Place Like Trottingham
“Flue,” a hushed, stallion’s voice hissed urgently. “Flue, wake up!”
My eyes peeled open blearily, heartbroken at being so unjustly ripped from the meadow of gumdrops and syrup waterfalls. A rapid succession of hard blinks attempted to bring the darkened room into focus. Somepony’s silhouette emerged from the void, one of its hooves gently, yet frantically shaking me awake.
“Wazzat, who dah where?” I mumbled sleepily, then proceeded to nestle back into the bundle of straw and burlap we called beds. It had been such a pleasant dream, maybe if I fell back asleep quickly enough…
An exasperated sigh answered me, “Oh I’m sorry, would you like five more minutes? Perhaps a spot of tea to help you wake? It’s not like we’re on a schedule here or anything.” Ashen ripped the course, itchy sheet away and pushed me off the side of the bed. The breath rushed out of my lungs with whumph.
I scrambled back to my hooves. “‘T’s ok, m’alright. Le’s go do the… the thing.”
“Honored to see you’re still onboard, dear sister,” my older brother snarked. “Now come on, little filly, grab your bag and we’ll depart. Gutter and Buggy are waiting for us.”
“‘M not little, ‘m almost as tall as y’,” I complained, still rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“Yeah, but you’ll always be that cute, lisping little brat that could never go anywhere without her big broth-”
I struck out with a partially-coordinated hoof and landed a jab on the mouthy teenager.
“Ouch!” he cried halfheartedly. “You are way too good at seeing in the dark.”
“Got to be,” I responded haughtily, “I light the way for others, not the other way around.” I punctuated the statement with a flare of embers erupting from my horn. They briefly illuminated the dank room, bringing the two straw beds, rotting wooden walls, a shattered floor mirror, and an old steamer trunk into view.
“Alright, alright, calm down queen arsonist. If I need a bed warmer heated, you’ll be the first to know,” Ashen chided, putting a hoof over the sparks and smothering my fire.
Pfft, typical him.
My brother stepped toward the door, “Hurry up. Who knows how long that cold medicine will keep the old nag down. We have to leave now.”
I waved him off, “I’m coming, keep your knickers on.”
He nodded once before opening the hallway door, letting in the dim candlelight of the sconces outside. The muted brightness revealed a tall, teenaged stallion. My brother’s coat was pure black with a splash of white across the muzzle. He sported a short, unkempt mane that matched the deep shade and topped with a patchwork bowler hat. A wiry, chimney broom graced his flank.
“One minute and we’re leaving, pumpkin,” he advised before dashing into the hall.
I took a deep breath, futilely attempting to smother the flock of butterflies that had just hatched in my stomach. A quick flash of my horn sprung open the old trunk. Inside was a prepared burlap sack with the few days worth of bread and water. Next to it lay my brother and I’s only other possession, an old, silver picture frame portraying four ponies. A mare and stallion each gazed lovingly down at a young Ashen. He was gently cradling a sleeping, bright-red foal with a tuft of gray and silver mane, giving her the appearance of a small flame trailing a wisp of smoke into the air.
I stowed the frame with the rest of our supplies before taking a final look into the broken mirror. An older portrayal of the filly in the photo stared back with piercing, amber eyes and a shimmeringly flame was portrayed on her flank. Her mane had grown into a field of wisping curls, further cementing her likeness to that of a roaring fire.
“A fire that shall spread across all of Trottingham,” I stated confidently, the jittering nervousness igniting into a joyous grin that illuminated the room.
Or perhaps it was the gout of fire that had sprung from my horn in the excitement. I quickly banished the spell, sheepishly looking toward the door. Ashen was poking his head around the doorframe, his mouth locked in a grin of amused frustration.
“When you’re quite finished alerting every constable from here to Prance, perhaps you’d be so kind as to join us,” he intoned sarcastically.
“Oh quite finished,” I assured, my cheeks burning as I grabbed the bag and dashed out of the room. I spared a glance back, taking in the rotting planks, lousy bedding, and gaping walls that always gave way to the night’s chill. So many memories clung to the dilapidated dormitory, sticking rigidly to every facet of my mind. Familiarity and fear of the unknown clashed with a burning resentment toward the dour space, tearing at my consciousness. Tears began to sting at my eyes.
“Hey,” my brother whispered comfortingly, pulling at my chin to lock our gazes. “After tonight, we’ll never have to think about this place ever again. Alright?”
I sniffed before giving a shaky nod.
“Alright then,” he said warmly, wiping his hoof across my eye. “Once we’re out of here, first cider’s on me.” Ashen embraced me, using the motion to push the door.
As the brittle board swung shut, I glanced once more at the familiar space. I caught my reflection in the mirror, shuddering at the visage of myself still trapped within that room. The filly inside looked fearful of what the coming night would bring, but was being supported by the most important pony in her life.
The door finally swung closed, leaving my brother and me alone in the hallway.
“Took you lot long enough,” a small, raspy voice snapped from behind.
We twirled around, discovering a small, angry filly glaring toward us. The pegasus may have been a dazzling amethyst, whilst her mane could almost be mistaken for a brilliant swirling of magenta and crimson. However, it was nigh impossible to tell through the layers of black gunk and dirt. Her flank portrayed what appeared to be a crude, dangling rat, but anypony that knew her was aware of the eighth note hidden beneath.
“Hush, Gutter Rat,” Ashen stated, waving her away. “We’re all here now, and that’s what-” he cut himself off, looking around worriedly. “Where’s Buggy?”
“Probably repacking his books, again,” she said exasperatedly. “I swear that colt wouldn’t be able to scratch his own bum unless there was hoofbook on the subject.”
“Aw, are you two having a bit of lover’s tiff?” Ashen asked mockingly. “I’m sure if you just go give him a sweet little peck on the cheek he'll-” Gutter punched him in the leg. “Ow,” he repeated, rubbing the limb, “why is every mare in my life hitting me today?”
“Perhaps because you deserve it?” a deep, stallion’s voice announced from the darkness. Buggy emerged from around the corner, every board creaking disconcertingly at his passage. Though he was nary a year older than me, the deep blue earth pony stood a full head taller than Ashen. He wouldn’t have looked out of place with a huge, royal carriage chained to his flanks. Muscles bulged across every limb of the enormous youth, doubtless a result of his years hauling a library’s worth of books in a single load. Always so determined was he to finally crack the perfect method of organization.
“And I’ll have you know, Gutter, I have already expertly selected and organized the perfect assortment of references for tonight’s excursion,” Buggy stated proudly. “Instead, I was procuring these.” He tossed a large bundle of cloth on the floor, and we instantly recognized them as a collection of black, hooded cloaks. “Helpful to be a tad hard to spot when one is staging a grand escape, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Buggy, you’re a genius,” Ashen said approvingly.
“Waste of time to state the obvious, my friend,” Buggy responded, though his grin did widen a bit.
Ashen doled out the cloaks, discovering our friend had gone so far as to get our exact sizes. We swiftly checked our supplies, then re-rehearsed the plan.
“So we all know the gate guard will be fast asleep by now,” Ashen began. “The closest building to us is the old grocer across the back alley, but the only window close enough to jump the gap is in Stoneheart’s room.” The group collectively shuddered at the mention of our malevolent caretaker. “I know, I know, but Gutter made sure there was a pretty hefty dose of cold medicine in the old hag’s stew tonight, so hopefully that keeps her down while we get out. Once we’re outside, I’ll guide us along the rooftops until we get to the train station. Then, as long as somepony doesn’t burn down a viscount’s carriage on the way…” he looked toward me mockingly.
“It was one time!” I snapped loudly.
He merely kept up the grin, “... we just stow away and we’re off to wherever Celestia takes us.”
“I’d like to voice, once again, that I think we should have that part a bit more thought out,” Buggy interjected coldly.
“Well unless one of your clients happened to pass along tonight’s train schedule, I think this is about as good as it gets,” Ashen responded smugly.
The larger stallion shrugged, “Fair enough.”
With that, we began to slowly creep toward the room of our collective worst nightmare. The journey proved uneventful, only the sounds of soft breathing of the other orphans greeting us. A passing thought hoped that we could find a way to come back for them all someday.
I took in the surrounding walls and rusting sconces, hopefully for the final time. Ratty and torn rugs were thrown haphazardly around, attempting to show some modicum of homeyness in the dreary building. Every window was affixed with heavy steel bars, and their latches welded shut. Apparently, we weren’t the first to attempt escape.
Finally, we arrived at Stoneheart’s quarters. A raucous snore reverberated from within, shaking the door on its hinges. Our group took a nervous gulp in unison.
“Alright, chaps. This is it,” Ashen whispered.
“I still think we should try another room,” Buggy argued. “What do you think she’ll to us do if she wakes up?”
“We can’t risk the noise it would take to get the bars off,” my brother reminded him. “You know she pays off the constables to keep an eye on this place. Her’s is the only room with an open window. Now quit stalling, you twit.”
Ashen then removed his bowler cap and removed a single, iron key. He delicately slid it into the lock and every-so-gently turned the tumbler. It may as well have been a cannon going off as the rusting metal ground against itself until the door creaked open.
Inside was the complete antithesis to the entirety of the building. Polished, expensive-looking furniture was crammed into every corner of the room. Dominating the space was an ornate fireplace set against the wall, an enormous portrait hung in the brickwork above. It portrayed an aging, stern-eyed gray mare in a fine black dress. A large, single ruby medallion hung from a golden chain around her neck. Her expression seemed to hold nothing but contempt for those unlucky enough to be in the painting’s presence.
Across the room, laying in a large, four-poster bed was the very same mare. Stoneheart slumbered deeply, her monstrous snoring seemingly shaking the very foundation.
Ashen put a hoof to his lips and hushed us before creeping inside. Even Buggy’s clomping hooves couldn’t beat out Stoneheart’s hearty snorts. Before we knew it, the window was before us. My brother motioned me forward, keeping his gaze locked on the respring mare. I climbed atop the desk sat beneath it before pushing on the glass. With a whisper, the window sprung open and revealed the dank, fog-cloaked night of Trottingham.
A thrilling exhilaration trailed down my spine as I looked back at my brother. He looked equally jovial as the other’s climbed up to join me. Gutter went first, only hesitating a moment as she gauged the distance, then leaped outward. Her wings opened, flapping reflexively, but doing little else but glide her down to land with a gentle clatter on the opposite roof. I winced away from the sight of a clump of missing feathers from where they’d been clipped.
Buggy soon followed, taking a bit more time to prepare himself. Or perhaps actually calculating the exact speed and force he’d need to propel his mass across the alley, both were equally likely. The enormous pony flung himself out, landing with a crash and a few broken shingles. Ashen and I both winced, instantly looking back toward Stoneheart, but found her still slumbering.
My brother finally joined me on the desk, “Well, mares first.”
“Um- why don’t you go ahead?” I recommended, the sight of the ground far below turning my stomach in knots.
“Don’t you worry, little one,” he stated patronizingly, patting me on the head. “Your older brother shall show you the way it’s done.” Without another thought, Ashen jumped across the alley and landed with a graceful flourish.
Showoff, I thought acidically.
I took another look at Stoneheart, watching as her chest rose and fell with her snores. A small, vindictive part of me desperately wished to impart some lasting harm for the cruelty we’d all been forced to endure. Slaving the long hours as she rented us out to Trottingham’s nobility like livestock, and pocketing every last bit they paid. The swift, physical repercussions at any perceived sign of insubordination. The expected gratitude for our rotting dormitories and vile gruel for supper.
My jaw clenched at the thought, but the hushed goading from my friends tore me from the vengeful daydream. I breathed deeply, trying to silence the fear in my mind. “Just don’t look down, just don’t look down,” I chanted quietly. After a few reversed steps, I hardened my gaze and sped forward, coiling my rear legs before-
I slipped on a loose piece of paper. Stumbling forward, I barely caught my rear hoof on the window ledge and sprung forward. For a moment there was weightlessness, the sight of my friends’ wary expressions level with mine. Then the undeniable feeling of gravity took hold, dropping me beneath the lip of the rooftop and tumbling toward the cobblestone streets below. A shriek of terror escaped me before a wrought iron balcony swiftly rose up to meet me.
I crashed into the hard metal, desperately gripping at the vertical bars and dangling off the side of the building. A chorus of horrified cries echoed from above as the group raced toward the edge. Ashen spied me instantly, “Hold on!”
“That was the plan,” I tried to say humorously, though it came it far more colored in terror than I had hoped.
The fog had condensed somewhat onto the bars I gripped so desperately, the added slickness attempting to rid me of the perch. I renewed my grip, trying to hold out as long as my friends required. Instead, I was greeted with the most disconcerting shriek of metal as the flimsy balcony began to free itself of the wall.
“Hurry!” I shouted.
A trail of dark cloth soon began snaking toward me, a makeshift rope of my friend’s cloaks. “Grab on!” Ashen echoed from above.
Cautiously, I removed one hoof from the bars, gripping onto the course cloth. Just at that moment, the rest of the balcony pulled itself free and crashed downward in a clatter of metal that echoed through the empty streets. Another cry echoed from my lips and, in the brief moment of panic, another jet of flame burst from my horn and nearly lit the night like the coming dawn.
I swung from the lifeline, teeth chattering as I stared toward the ground.
“What in blazes is going on up there?!” a loud, commanding voice called out.
A tall stallion galloped into view, wearing the dark blue uniform of a constable and his head topped with a large, ornate custodian helmet. Upon witnessing the vandalized balcony, his gaze shot upward and immediately caught sight of me.
“Hey, you lot get down from there this instant!” he shouted forcefully.
“Flue, don’t panic,” Ashen stated calmly.
“I’m not!” I snapped back. “Just pull me-” I cut myself off, spying the true reason for Ashen’s attempt at placation.
My earlier, panicked gout of fire had ignited the rope.
The flames quickly licked at the fabric up toward my friends, and the sound of snapping fibres filled the air.
“Oh Goddess!” I cried. “What do we do?!”
“I need you to trust me right now,” Ashen continued, looking beyond me at the ground below. “We’ll keep his attention. When you get to the ground, make your way to fourth street and then follow the trolley lines up to the train station. We’ll meet you there.”
“Get to the- WHAT!” I shrieked back.
“What in Tartarus’s name do you think you’re doing, you stupid twit?!” I heard Gutter snap.
“I’ll see you soon, little sister,” Ashen assured calmly.
He let go.
I screamed at the top of my lungs as weightlessness took hold of me once again. The windows of the building sped past in a blur until I closed my eyes, waiting for the inevitable slam into the cobblestones below. Instead, there was loud crash and a disconcertingly soft, and oddly pungent, pile crumpled beneath my landing.
A few moments of bewilderment followed, I was alive? I looked all around, finding myself nestled into an enormous pile of rubbish scattered throughout the alleyway. From above, I heard various taunts and goudings echoing from my friends that slowly grew more distant. The commanding shouts of the constable soon followed suit as he dashed after them, a piercing whistle cutting through the night’s silence.
“Follow… fourth street?” I repeated aloud to myself, making my way down the road.
Luckily there was nary a single pony in sight as I made my way through the dreary fog. I found the trolley lines easily enough, now it was just a matter of keeping away from the prying eyes of the nightly watch.
Gas-fueled lighposts stood at regular intervals along the street, their dim flames doing little but marking the way. Every so often a constable’s whistle would echo through the streets, and the worry for my brother and our friends deepened with each instance.
I turned a corner, and was immediately met with a police-carriage and an apparent struggle between several officers and a pony I couldn’t quite see.
“Get that brat in the carriage!” a mare shouted. “We don’t have all night!”
The conflict soon ended, and the carriage’s iron door was shut with a clang.
“Unicorn,” a stallion commented boredly. “This one of the runts you lost tonight, madam?”
“No it is not!” a cold, venomous, and worst of all familiar voice snapped. “Is there a single one of you that isn’t a complete and total buffoon?!”
Stoneheart stepped into view, her bedraggled mane showcasing how recently she’d been roused from her slumber.
“So… we should let her go?” the constable asked.
She stuck up her nose in condescension, “Of course not. There’s always a bed open at the orphanarium.”
“Orphanarium?!” a young filly’s voice cried. “Please miss, I assure you I am no orphan. I’m just going to meet my parents now. Please!”
Stoneheart scoffed, “Likely story. Street vermin like you need structure and discipline. All of which are in abundance at your new home.” She turned back toward the officers, “Keep her locked up and then continue the search for the others. I don’t pay you lot to just stand around.”
“Of course, madam,” the female constable assured her.
With that, Stoneheart turned and marched off into the fog. The remaining officers chatted amongst themselves for a bit, then seemed to prepare for their departure.
No, this was wrong. What kind of pony would I be if I just allowed my old bed to be filled by another unfortunate soul? I had to stop this.
I looked about, searching for any possible method of distracting the officers. My eyes came to rest on the flickering lights dancing within the street lamps. I smiled deviously as my concentration turned to the flames, forcing them to wither in size and plunging the street into complete darkness. The glass of the lamps began to fog as unlit gas filled the chambers.
“Oi, what’s going on here?” one of the constables cried.
“Somepony get public works on the horn, must be another faulty gas line,” the mare stated.
As the group continued conversing amongst themselves, I crept into their midst, slowly working my way toward the rear of the police carriage. Upon arrival, I peered inside, barely making out a small, shivering silhouette trapped within.
“Hey,” I whispered, gently clanging on the bars.
The filly whipped around in shock, slowly approaching as she attempted to find the source of the noise. “Who’s there.”
“Not important right now,” I continued. “But I’m getting you out of here.”
“Oh please do,” she responded worriedly. “These terrible constables are trying to take me to some horrible orphanarium, but I know exactly where my parents are.”
“Trust me, you do not want to go to that place.”
Her eyes widened slightly, “You’re one of those that they’re looking for, aren’t you?”
“We can tell each other our life’s stories when we’re away from here,” I chided. “Now hide your eyes, I’ve got a plan.”
She didn’t respond to that, merely placed a hoof across her face.
I returned my concentration to the street lamps, using the slight warmth that still remained to reignite them. For a moment there was silence, and then the street exploded.
The collection of gas built up within the glass enclosures ignited at the first spark of the returning fire. Every fixture along the road followed suit as the wild blaze spread down the line. One by one the domes detonated in a cloud of metal and glass shrapnel that wreaked havoc down upon the unaware constables.
After the first explosion, I quickly undid the latch on the carriage, grabbed the confused filly, and galloped down a nearby alley. Just in the nick of time as several embers rained down onto the carriage, lighting the structure of dry wood like a tinderbox. Soon, the panicked cries of the officers slowly faded into the distance. It was not until my lungs seemed fit to finally burst that I began to slow and allowed the two of us to catch our breath.
“Whew,” I finally said, breathing raggedly, “that was fun.”
“Fun?” the filly asked incredulously. “You could have killed us!”
I finally got a good look at my new friend. Her coat was a brilliant crimson, while streaks of a deep burgundy and orange highlighted her mane. She was far too clean to be a beggar, so it wasn’t farfetched to believe that she did have a family to return to.
“But I didn’t, so that turns the whole situation from tragic to fun,” I answered.
“Pardon my little sister, miss,” a familiar voice called from above. “She has a fairly warped sense of what constitutes merriment.”
The two of us looked up, spying my group of friends beaming down at us from the rooftop.
“Didn’t I specifically tell you not to light any carriages on fire?” Ashen asked jokingly.
“You said a viscount’s carriage,” I clerified. “You simply must be more specific about your wants, dear brother.”
“Too true, dear sister,” he answered approvingly. The group made their way down a nearby fire escape and joined us on the ground. “Now who, might I ask, is your new companion?”
“I… uh… well I actually don’t know yet,” I said honestly. “But Stoneheart was here, and she instructed the constables to bring her to the orphanarium.”
“A true act of heroism, then,” Ashen commented, the turned toward our new acquaintance. “What is your name, miss?”
“I-it’s Ruby,” the little filly answered warily. “Ruby Gleam. Please, I just want to return to my parents. If you could be so kind as to point me toward the train station, I would be forever in your debt.”
“As luck would have it, that is our destination as well,” Buggy answered her, the giant pony stepping into view. “If it pleases you, then we would be most overjoyed to have you accompany us on the way.”
“Truly?” Ruby asked hopefully. “Oh that would be ever-so helpful.”
“I don’t know,” Gutter Rat said suspiciously, squinting her eyes and getting right in Ruby’s face. “What if this is some kind of ruse? Maybe they wanted us to rescue her, and she’ll be leading us right into a trap.”
“Gutter, you truly do give our previous caretaker and the local constabulary far too much credit,” Ashen responded, waving away her concerns. “They’re not that creative. Let us be off.”
After a brief round of introductions, we creeped toward the edge of the alley, peering out to see if the commotion had died down. The smoldering wreckage of the carriage still stood on the street, but it appeared the constables had left.
“Come on now,” Ashen instructed, indicating toward our right. “We’re nearly there, just a few more blocks.”
The last leg of the trip finally seemed to working in our favor. Not a single pony crossed our path and, soon enough, the brilliant luminescence of Clopham Junction stood tantalizingly at the end of the road. The simple, brick main station could understandably be confused for another home, but the sprawling network of towering spires and rail lines standing just behind it banished the thought.
“This is it,” Ashen stated breathily. “We’re almost there.” He put a hoof around my shoulders and hugged me close. “This is it, Flue. We did it.”
“Did what, exactly?” a chilling voice snapped behind us.
The group whirled around, coming face to face with our benefactor as she emerged from the side street. Stoneheart had her eyes narrowed, and a wicked grin spread across her face. “Well, well, well. Five lost lambs on the cold streets of Trottingham. Worry not, little ones, your shepherd is here to return you to the flock.”
Ashen stepped toward her, shielding the rest of us her icy gaze, “We will be doing no such thing, madam.”
“Don’t you talk back to me, you little cretin,” she hissed, the smile disappearing and the scowl we knew so well returned. “This nighttime romp is at an end, and you will be coming home now lest you desire your punishment to worsen a thousand-fold.”
“We aren’t going anywhere with you,” I added, stepping forward and taking position beside Ashen. Another thought ignited my horn, creating a threatening shower sparks that danced toward the vile caretaker.
“Do you honestly believe that you can frighten me?” she asked mockingly. “Oh constables.”
In the space of a moment, at least a dozen uniformed ponies emerged from the shadows. Another paddy wagon pulled in, its drivers looking at us with a worrisome glee. Stern looks of authority rained down from the gathering as they slowly closed in, attempting to encircle us.
“Flue,” Ashen whispered, nudging me. “I think I see another carriage for you. Would you be so kind as to greet it in your usual manner?”
I grinned wickedly at my brother, “But of course.” Another thought redirected my magic at the street lamps, creating an encore performance of my earlier tactic. The flames within grew larger and brighter, the creaks of strained glass pulled the attention of everypony in attendance. Another round of shattering marked a waterfall of flames spilling forth from the enclosures, forcing the constables to our left to retreat behind their brethren. I turned the direction of the flame to lick at their hooves, further scaring them away.
“RUN!” Ashen shouted as a break in their line formed. All at once, the group stampeded away from the retreating policeponies and toward the station. It loomed in the distance, taunting us as it refused to grown on the horizon. “We’re almost there! Don’t look back! Keep moving!” my brother continued, but his voice sounded strangely distant.
Despite his warning, I spared a glance over my shoulder and found my brother had begun to slow until he came to a full stop. I followed suit.
“What are you doing?!” I cried, confusion and worry clashing within my voice.
“I said don’t stop!” he rebuked, turning to face the oncoming squad.
“Come on, we don’t have time to waste,” Buggy intoned, grabbing me around the middle and throwing me on his back.
“NO!” I shrieked. “Ashen isn’t with us! We have to go back!”
“I know,” Buggy responded, but did not slow.
“But- but…” I stammered, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. “But we… I can’t-”
“He’s doing this for you,” Gutter snapped, easily keeping pace with the lumbering giant. “Can’t you see that? Don’t let it be in vain.”
The realization was like a slap to the face, and the oncoming tears finally sprung forth. “ASHEN!” I screamed.
The seconds stretched on as I watched the scene. My brother throwing hooves at the constables as they drew billy clubs and began beating him down. Soon, he stopped resisting and allowed the police to place him in restraints.
“We can’t… we can’t leave him,” I sobbed.
“It’s what he would want,” Buggy said emotionlessly. “Your freedom for his, a worthy trade in his mind.”
Finally, we arrived at the staircase leading up into the station. We swiftly conquered the stone steps, bursting into the main terminal and-
An entire contingent of police were there to meet us.
“End of the line, children,” a tall, mustachioed stallion announced. His uniform was far more ornate than the others, and his helmet significantly taller. “Why don’t we end this peaceably, hm?”
Looks of shock horror erupted on all of our faces. The crushing defeat physically deflated us as Buggy sank to the floor and I flopped off of his back. Gutter, for the first time since I’d met her, began to cry as well.
“No,” I whispered as the officers approached, truncheons in mouth.
We turned and found the rest of the constables had arrived, flanking a sneering Stoneheart. “You are all in for such a… reprimanding when we get home.” She indicated behind her as a bruised Ashen was dragged into view, “This is just the beginning, I assure you. And that one,” she pointed at Ruby, “can join you.”
“But… we tried so hard,” I squeaked, looking all around for any sort of escape, but there was none. I turned toward our new friend, “I’m sorry, Ruby.”
“It’s quite alright, Flue,” she said sadly. “You all tri… FATHER!” she suddenly screeched, dashing forward past the constables and into the waiting forelegs of a rather dapper stallion on the other side of the station. He was dressed in an ornate suit, and his burnt orange coat could do little to dispel that Ruby was indeed his daughter.
“My precious, little filly,” the stallion stated happily. “Where have you been? Your mother and I were worried sick.” His attention turned toward the commotion Ruby had just escaped. “What’s all this then? What are you all doing in my station?”
“His station?” Buggy asked confusedly.
“M-m-mister Canterbilt,” the, presumably, chief constable stuttered. “We were just collecting some escaped orphans from the local orphanarium. Nothing to concern yourself with.”
“I will decide what concerns me, constable,” he said, a hint of anger creeping into his voice. “I do believe that mare just stated she would be taking my precious little girl from me. Is this something you and your officers are party to? Kidnapping children?”
“Oh we would never… I mean if we knew she was your daughter then obviously-”
“Should it matter? Is this,” the stallion motioned toward Ashen, “how you deal with wayward children in Trottingham?”
“Mister Canterbilt, if you’d just allow me to explain-”
“No need,” Canterbilt said, venom in his tone. “Children, please come over here. Constables, if you do not wish for me to meet with parliament and re-discuss our arrangement of turning Trottingham into the central hub for my rail line, then I suggest you arrest that woman.”
“WHAT!” Stoneheart cried. “You can’t do this to me! Do you have any idea who I-”
“I’m quite sure I don’t care,” Canterbilt interrupted as we hurried over to him. The constables glanced at each other for just a moment before moving to shackle Stoneheart. Her cursing grew distant as the brigade led her out the door, but not before releasing Ashen and ushering him toward us.
We hugged desperately when he arrived, tears of sadness and defeat quickly turning to joy. However, there was one last obstacle that had now sprung up before us. Our group turned toward Ruby and her father, finding her whispering hurriedly into his ear. After another moment, he addressed us.
“Children, my daughter has just informed of your brief, but harrowing adventure this night,” he trotted forward, sitting down amongst us and motioned for us to do the same.
As I sat, my burlap sack spilled open, scattering bread, water skins, and our family picture across the floor. Canterbilt’s eyes looked at it curiously for a moment, before widening in shocked recognition.
“Flue? Ashen?” he asked.
We nodded warily. How did he-?
An enormous smile spread across the stallion’s lips as he threw both forelegs around us and pulled us into a tight hug, “Oh Goddesses, I never thought this day would come.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “Do we… know you?”
“Not that we aren’t grateful for what you just did,” Ashen said hurriedly, shooting me a frustrated look. “But I’m afraid we’re not sure who you are.”
“Of course, how rude of me,” the stallion responded, drawing back and straightening up. “I am Golden Steam Canterbilt. Founder of this station and the largest rail line in Equestria,” he adopted a more jovial smile, “but I suppose you can just call me uncle.”
“Uncle?!” Ashen and I said in unison.
“Indeed,” he answered. “Ten years ago, after your parents’ tragic departure, you were meant to be brought to me as your guardian. However, we were told that you never arrived at the station. We searched high and low for years, but eventually conclude that you'd run off, not wanting to know us for... whatever reason. Although, I suppose we are now quite well aware of what happened.
His expression hardened, “I swear to you all this wrong will be righted. That horrible kidnapper shall never see another sunrise while I remain in this city.”
“What about everypony back at the orphanarium?” I asked.
“Those with guardians will of course be returned to them. And I shall personally see to the restaffing of the facility for those that remain.”
“And Buggy and Gutter Rat?” Ashen inquired.
“Well, I see no reason why House Canterbilt cannot adopt a couple of wards,” he turned toward our friends. “As long as that’s alright with you two of course.”
They nodded eagerly.
“Then it’s settled. Come, children. Allow me to show you your new home.”
As we exited the station, Ashen put his hoof around my shoulders again. “We did it,” he whispered happily.
I nestled my head into his chest, “Let’s go home, big brother.”
