Chapters I trotted swiftly out of the Crystal Empire, my long tail bobbing behind me as my hat bounced cheerfully. I was a strange mish-mash of creatures, my mother a zony, and my father a groat.
So, what happens when a zony and a groat get together? I do. I was a very light grey, bordering on white, with long, shaggy fur from my grandfather. My mane was a very dark gray, bordering on black, with white tips. I had cloven hooves that allowed me to grip nearly vertical surfaces, and a lion tail nearly half again the length of my body that ended in a tuft of hair similar to my forelock. My eyes were a vibrant green, contrasting with my otherwise monotone body.
I loped casually along the snowy tundra, my small stature and large hooves allowing me to hop across the snow with ease, while not actually falling in.
I was wearing my snow gear, including an extremely durable winter coat that covered my neck, tail, torso, and legs down to my hocks. I had ear-gloves, a scarf wrapped around my muzzle and neck, my green cloak, brown saddlebags, and most importantly, my green hat.
I had been cantering for hours now. Most ponies walk, some run much faster than I do, by they don’t have my stamina. I can run like this for days on end if I need to. It’s a good thing I can, as it’s saved my life on more than one occasion. Sometimes I’d get too hot from running like this with all of my fur in warmer climates, but the freezing cold temperatures of the Crystal Empire were so cold that I needed help from articles of clothing to keep from shivering.
The sun had just begun to set as I made camp. It is was early evening, and I had set out in the early morning. Seven more days, and I should see Vanhoover Forest. I pondered my journey, and other things, of course, for the two hours it took for me to set up. I had built a quinzhee, a far easier thing to build than an igloo, but just as sturdy for a short-term shelter. There were several air holes, so I was in no danger of suffocation.
I’d already eaten dinner, dried apricots and apple slices were nothing to write home about. I curled up for sleep among the warm blankets I’d laid out, still in the same clothes. It was so incredibly cold in the Frozen North that I could watch my breath form an actual cloud, and float away. Bits of snow clung to my lashes, drifting away as I blinked. As a last thought, I reached into my saddlebags, and pulled out a photograph. It was a newer photograph, a picture of my very best friend.
“Good night.” I told her as I drifted off in the fading light.
I woke before sunrise, as I always did. I packed my things away, saving the photograph for last. The sun barely peeking over the horizon, I shouldered my saddlebags and started to run.
It was monotonous, the constant running over the same surface, the landscape never changing, so in between checking my compass to make sure I was going in the right direction, I often talked to myself. Not out loud, as it was far to cold, and I would only strain my throat attempting to do so, meaning these “conversations” were always internal.I wonder what Joy is doing?
They often started like that, wondering what my best friend was doing.
Probably painting.
She probably was, but boring answers were no fun.
Maybe, she’s really a secret agent, with cool sunglasses and the like! Mild-mannered Artful Joy, an artist living in Manehattan, is really Agent A., the top agent in the Canterlotian Spy Corps!
I like where this is going.
Right now she’s fighting a gorilla armed with laser sharks off skyscrapers in Baltimare, swinging around like Spidermare with awesome grappling hooks.
I passed a lot of time like this.
It was now early evening again. I slid to a halt. The area was slowly becoming less flat, and a little less shiny.
I pitched camp and ate, another dinner of nothing but dried fruit and jerky. I was omnivorous, and jerky tended to keep a bit better than my fruits, but I had to be careful where I ate jerky. Ponies tended to be a bit nutty about that. That’s why I’d buy pounds and pounds of the stuff from a Griffon named Macy, who always stocked extra when she heard I was coming. We weren’t really friends, per say, just acquaintances who both liked the taste of a crispy pig.
I crawled into the quinzee, and after laying down the furs and pulling up a blanket, I pulled out the picture of Joy.
I rolled over and promptly fell asleep.
The next few days passed quickly as I fell into the rhythm of traveling. It was fairly early in the evening of the sixth day as when I noticed a significant change in the terrain.
The snow was giving way to stretches of brown earth, and scrubby bushes dotted the ground. The bushes slowly gave way to grass, and a tree sprouted here and there. I could feel the temperature rise as I stepped through the plants scattered around. Vanhoover was near, and I could tell that the forest just outside of it would appear soon.
I quickly found a place to make camp, and for the first time in my adventure, I pitched a tent. The green tent went a up in a matter of minutes. It, along with my saddlebags, was enchanted to be bigger on the inside. My saddlebags carried as much as a small closet, and the tent was about about three times that.
It was a very nice tent, and it had lasted well for all the five years that I’d had it. For the first time since leaving the Frozen North, I removed my winter coat. My fur was messy, and it needed a good brushing.
I rooted around in my saddlebags, hunting for the hairbrush I knew was in there. I pulled it out, but instead of the grey one I was expecting, I pulled out a light blue one, with purple hairs still tangled in it.
There was a small piece of paper stuck to it. Written there, in her impossibly perfect hoofwriting, was a note.
Hey Swifty!
You always complain about how much you miss me during your wanderings, so I thought that I’d send you a token of my affections, like those maidens used to do for their knights! Go on, Traveler!
Just underneath, was a doodle of what was clearly supposed to be Joy in the frilliest monstrosity that I’d ever seen, waving a handkerchief.
I held it to my chest and cried, hiccuping with the occasional laugh.
I love you so much.
The next morning, I awoke as usual. I quickly packed my things, and left the campsite undisturbed after a quick breakfast.
You couldn’t even tell that I’d been there.
I traveled quickly for the next day or two. Late in the evening of the tenth day of my journey, I saw lights on the horizon.
“Vanhoover, here I come.”
I awoke the next morning, packed my things, and trotted towards Vanhoover. It only took me a few hours to reach the city. It was a bustling sea of legs, reminding me of just how short I was.
Which was really short. I was maybe a bit taller than your average foal, before they had their growth spurt. I cantered along a street, hunting for a cheap place to stay the night. I could always camp out, but a bed would be nice after so many days of feeling the ground from underneath my blankets.
Unfortunately, luck was not on my side today. Everything I found costed upwards of thirty five bits per night.
Camping it is, then.
With that out of the way, I headed to the city market. A nice gentlecolt had given me directions, so I knew where to go, ev,\en with such an unfamiliar environment. I needed about forty days’ rations in dried fruits, and possibly jerky, so I needed to start hunting for some grub.
Luckily for me, dried fruits were very cheap. At about two bits for one days’ rations being the national average. Unluckily, being tiny meant ponies thought that I was an idiot foal, and easily conned out of a few bits, if not first weirded out by my appearance.
A mare with a lavender coat and pink mane leaned over me. She smelled of cheap perfume. “Now, sweetie, what in Equestria does a little foal like you need that much fruit for?”
I sighed, rummaging through my saddlebags. “Miss, I’m twenty-five. I’m just really, really , short.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Now, sweetheart, you really shouldn’t lie-”
“You might want to rethink that once I find- Aha!” I said. I pulled out a small plastic card. It read:Swift Traveling Gender: F Age: 25
I tapped it, and it shone with a golden glow, responding to my unique magical signature. I grinned internally, watching as the mare’s eyes widened. “Are you ready to bargain with me like a mare?”
Realizing that I wasn’t offended, as this happened to me quite often (like I said before), she smiled devilishly. “Been a good long while since I had a real barginer.”
I walked away from the stand, exhausted but satisfied, forty days’ rations filling my left saddlebag, seventy-five bits poorer.
It was early afternoon, so I decided to hunt around for a magic shop. I quickly found one. It was smaller, but fairly popular, as there were three scholarly-looking unicorns browsing the shelves.
On the outside of the window, a small sign advertised magic item recharging for fairly cheap. I pushed open the door. A bell pleasantly tinkled, announcing my arrival. The unicorn behind the counter looked up at me, taking in my small stature, green cloak, saddlebags, and hat.
“Hello miss.” he said. “What can I do for you?” He obviously was curious about my person, but assumed I might leave if he said anything. Quite clever of him.
I trotted up to the counter, sliding off my saddlebags, wondering if he thought I was in some kind of costume. “There’s a class 5 refuelable dimensional transcendence enchantment on my saddlebags. It’s Starswirlian, so I think you should be able to refuel it quickly.”
He looked surprised. “How do you know all this? No offense, Ma’am, but that’s some fairly obscure knowledge right there. Those bags are pretty new, so that enchantment cannot be older than you.”
“I make sure to be familiar with all of my equipment.” I stated. “As for how I got ahold of it, a fairly powerful unicorn owed me a favor.”
“Well then, this shouldn’t take more than five minutes. Are you okay with waiting?”
I nodded. “I’m fine. Do you have a place I could sit down?”
He waved towards a plush chair. “That should be fine.”
I sat and waited. True to his word, the unicorn was back within five minutes. He was sweating. “That t-took a bit m-more out o-of me than I thought.”
I gave him a concerned look. “Here, sit down.” When he protested, I got up, and tapped him. He instantly collapsed into the chair.
He grinned weakly. “M-maybe that was a good idea.”
I shared a few of my apple slices, paid him, and left. Once they hear how fast my bags charge, they assume it doesn’t need much energy, either. He’d be fine, though, as long as he relaxed for a while.
It was getting dark out. I jogged towards the forest. By the time I reached a suitable spot, it was nearly dark. I pitched the tent, lit a fire, and my dinner. When I curled up in bed, I pulled the picture of Joy out.
“Goodnight.” I told her perfect face. “I love you.”
The next morning, when I rolled out of bed, a realization hit me. “Sweet Celestia, I’m broke.”
I took down my tent, but I marked the campsite on my map for future use. Time to go back to my roots.
My mother’s grandmother’s whole family was about storytelling. Grandma told Ma the same stories that she told me. Now, I’m going to entertain, and make money. I walked into town, and looked for a quiet place that still had some hoof traffic.
I sat down, and began to weave a tale. “Once upon a time…”
There were gasps, and screams, giggles, and shouts, and not an eye in the crowd was dry. I turned to go, but a small hoof grabbed me. A little filly, she couldn’t have been more than three, placed a bit in hoof. “Tell me another?” She asked.
I sat and wove another tale. And another, eventually, I lost count. Everypony was laughing by the end. “And that’s why pigs can’t fly.”
My bit bag was overflowing. I yawned. It was nearly dark. “I’m sorry, everypony, but I need to go.”
“Awww…”
I galloped off. While I was not normally a particularly fast pony, I could be if I really wanted to. Just outside of Vanhoover, I pitched my tent.
I ate dinner, and removed my cloak, the hoodless cover sliding easily and smoothly off. I brushed my mane, tail, and teeth.
I rolled over to go to bed, but I couldn’t. So, I wrote a letter.
Dear Joy,
It’s only been about two weeks, but I still miss you more than anything. I wanted to stay so badly, but I just can’t. I don’t know why, but I need a road under my hooves, and bags on my back to feel like me.
I love you so much,
Swift
I watched the letter burn, like so many of the letters I’d never sent.
“Good night, Joy.”
As usual, I rose before the sun did. “Odd. It hasn’t rained in a while.” I muttered. Oh well, nothing I can do, I mean, it’s not like I’m a pegasus, right?
I packed all my things, made sure my campsite was free of any trash, and trotted off. I could eat breakfast on the road. In fact, maybe the lack of rain was for the best. No creature seemed worried about it, and it was the perfect weather for traveling.
But, of course, the universe decided to hate me once again.
It was late afternoon when the first raindrops fell.
Horseapples.
I hated rain with the burning fury of a thousand suns. I was particularly susceptible to thrush, a fungal disease. It was brought upon by standing for to long in wet or filthy conditions. For most, that just meant keep your hooves clean, idiot. For me, since I was outside in wet conditions so often, I had to wear special boots.
I hated those boots. They were rubber, and slippery, and uncomfortable. I never wore them unless I absolutely had to. With the Smokey Mountain Settlement still about two weeks away, give or take a few days, I had to wear them.
I rooted around in my saddlebag, grumbling. I pulled out a large poncho, and four black rubber boots. The rain was picking up steadily, promising a downpour. I put the poncho first, pulling it over my saddlebags, hat, and cloak. Next, with my face twisting in distaste, I pulled on the rainboots.
They slipped on easily, but that was normal. Getting them off, on the other hoof, was going to take me at least half an hour. With that in mind, I got up, and galloped.
It has been far too long since I’ve done this.
I was crazy strong. Despite my small size, I could pull about twice as much as your average stallion, and jump crazy far. Gathering my legs underneath myself, I sprang up into the air. Branches rushed past, twigs scraping at my poncho. I peaked just above the treetops, that feeling of weightlessness, sending a thrill through my stomach. As rain streamed down around me, and the skies cracked with lightning, I was one with the storm.
For all of a second. I fell to the ground again, but I was laughing like a madmare. That feeling, that split-second of no gravity, was what I lived for. The feeling of complete freedom electrified me. I jumped again. And again.
As evening gave way to night, I leapt for one final time, and made camp. I was a mess, my nose runny, and my boots covered in mud, but I felt so good.
I was still laughing as I pitched camp, eating a cold dinner of dried fruits. This was the life I wanted. After I had pitched the tent, rolled out my sleeping bag, and gotten my boots off, I rooted through my saddlebag through my hairbrush. I took it out, and without looking, began to brush the mud from my coat.
I went to clean it off, but stopped short. Instead of an unremarkable grey, it was a bright, cheery blue. Oh, right. Not my hairbrush. Heh. Now it’s all muddy.
I stared at it for a good long while before I broke down and started scrubbing it with my bare hooves. Bits of mud still clung to it, and I almost threw it at the ground in frustration before simply crying. I put it back in my right saddlebag, promising myself I’d clean it properly as soon as possible.
There was nothing left to do, so I rolled over and went to sleep. The picture remained in my saddlebags, forgotten.
***
For the next week, I fell into the traveling cycle. Wake up, break camp, eat breakfast on the road, canter for hours, make camp, sleep. There were a few rain showers, but not as many as there should’ve been. Strange.
The next part of my journey would be the hardest. Instead of cantering along a well-worn path, I would be scaling a mountain. The Smokey Mountain Settlement was a small village strung out around the mountains. It would take me another eight days to reach it, due to the varying terrain of the hillsides. If it was flat, with just one steep climb at the end, I could reach the village in about two days, but that was not the case. There were several small mountains in between, so I had to individually climb each of those.
I sighed, and continued to canter.
***
The sun was shining brightly, not a cloud in the sky. I’d begun my ascent up the main mountain not three hours ago. There was a cliffside up ahead that I knew I could camp on about four hours’ climb away.
My climb continued like this, until I reached the cliff. My limbs shaking from the strain, I pulled myself onto it and collapsed. I breathed deeply, feeling the cool air reinvigorate my lungs. With a snort, I stood up and shook my fur off. It was evening now, so it was begging to cool down.
I made a small fire, feeling the warmth on my face as evening gave way to night. Instead of going to bed, like I usually did, I stargazed. I had always loved the stars, but in the years since Princess Luna’s return, they had become more vibrant. Each star felt like it was alive, and twinkled with passion. Usually I had to retrain myself, though. Little sleep meant little travel, afterall. Still, I couldn’t help myself that night.
Especially here on the mountain, with no trees blocking my view, and no light pollution. It was incredible, I could see millions and millions of them. I took out my mane brush, and began to untangle my long locks.
As I watched, a shooting star fell across the night sky. I smiled. “Make a wish, Joy.”
***
Far away, in Manehattan, along the city streets, an artist began to close her shop. She glanced at the night sky, the light of a shooting star reflecting off her glasses. “Are you thinking of me, Swift? Because I’m thinking of you.”
The artist went inside, and made herself a cup of hot chocolate. More shooting stars reflected as she looked out the window, a meteor shower going on in full force.
“I’m thinking of you.”
I was awakened late the next morning, the sun shining in my eyes. I groaned.
That’s the last time I stay up that late.
I rolled over onto my stomach, and gathered my legs under myself. I had slept under the stars that night, the fire warming me enough to remove the need for a tent. Said fire was nothing but embers now, with just the barest hint of heat remaining.
I smothered the fire, making certain that it was completely out. A fire here would be devastating, as young pine trees were practically explosive, and I’m not making that up at all. Young pines are full of sap, which make them very flexible, but also risking combustion. The sap can heat up and evaporate, and the result is disastrous.
So yeah, making sure all fires go out is definitely a priority.
That said, I double checked the fire, and, finally satisfied, I began my climb. I had about two hours of climbing to go until I could reach the settlement.
I leapt up, and gripped the mountain, scrabbling for tiny hoofholds.
***
I had been climbing for about two hours. My muscles clenched under the strain as I hauled myself up one final time, coming to rest behind a small village built into a cliffside. It wasn’t long before I was noticed.
A long-legged earth pony colt ran over to me. He pulled me to my feet, shouting. “Hey, everypony! The Traveler's’ back!”
Heads popped up all over the village. “Say what?”
“The Traveler’s back!”
The exclamations ‘she is?’ and ‘no way!’ ‘How come?’ came from almost every house and echoed in me ears.
An older pony walked over to me. He was a large draft stallion, with a chocolate brown coat and blue eyes.
“The Traveler! Tis’ nice to see you again! Come, have a drink. On me.”
I flashed him a cheeky grin. “Hospitable as ever, Tiller. You know I don’t drink, but I have stories to share, things to trade, and ponies to meet.”
He smiled knowingly, leading me to the village’s bar as everycreature else waved as I passed. I bugged me a bit that all of the ponies in this village still said ‘everypony ’. I wouldn’t want to be rude though. Besides their choice of words, they were all very considerate, and knew I’d only want to chat with them once I’d gotten some rest. Instead they simply watched, ready to wait until tomorrow for round of stories.
The Smokey Mountain Settlement was a bit remote, but these ponies were some of the most courteous that you’ll ever meet. I followed after Tiller to the local tavern, where he pulled me up a stool. The barkeep did a double take when she saw me.
“Ah! The Traveler! You’re back!”
“Nice to see you again, Apple Cider. How’s the orchard?” I asked. The Apple family had branches everywhere, but I was a bit surprised when I ran into her about four years back. For a town as remote as this, it was fairly diverse as far as family trees go, although the earth ponies far outnumbered the unicorns and pegasi.
Cider resumed polishing the large cup settled between her hooves, her honey-yellow coat shining in the sunlight.
“It’s going really well! Those saplings you brought are helping tons. Here, this is our first batch of non-alcoholic cider.” She slid a smaller mug over the counter.
I picked it up, and took a sip. After it touched my tongue, I set it on the table slowly, keeping a straight face.
“I-is it good?”
I looked her eyes, a serious expression plastered across my muzzle.
“I-if you don’t like it, I’m sure I could find-”
“What is this, and how can I drown myself in it?”
Tiller doubled over, clutching his stomach and laughing.
“Traveler got you good!”
Cider smacked me with her cloth, her face was scrunched up like a squeezed sponge, and I could tell she was trying not to chuckle as she spoke.
“That wasn’t nice!”
I wheezed, trying to catch a breath in between fits of laughter.
“-is n-now a bad time to t-t-tell you that I need a place to stay? Ha, ha!”
“Yes!” she said, her cheeks puffed indignantly. She managed to hold her facet of anger for about a minute, before she broke. “Fine. You can stay with me, as always.”
“Thank you. Well, it was great seeing you ponies again, but I have to go find Bluebell.”
“What for?” Cider asked, a curious expression on her face.
“I have stories, and I might as well tell them, an I know how much she likes them, even the more boring ones that I like to share, even if no creature would want to hear it.” With that, I hopped off the barstool and trotted out, my lion tail trailing behind me.
It was a pleasant, sunny day, and I smiled as I trotted down the road.
“Traveler!” I turned my head to see a small unicorn filly running up to me. Behind her was a pegasus colt, and an adult unicorn carrying a picnic basket.
“Yeah! Tell us a story!” The colt fluttered his little wings.
I looked to the unicorn, smiling.
“Not gonna save me, Bluebell?” I teased.
She shrugged. “I want a story too.”
I cantered over to a nearby tree. “Well, sit down and I’ll tell you one. I guess I’ll need an exciting one, not the one I planned in my head. Give me a moment . . . Ah!
“Once upon a time, there lived a an amazingly excitable pegasus. She was beautiful, and very kind, but only felt in her element with her artwork. She drew day in and day out, surrounding herself with beautiful things. She loved her work, bet she felt unsatisfied.
“So, she went to ask her grandmother what to do. The pegasus’ grandmother was an old soothsayer, so she was very wise in the ways of the world. She told the pegasus to welcome the next traveler that came to her doorstep, and invite them inside for tea.
“The pegasus was quite confused by her grandmother’s advice, but she resolved to follow it anyhow. So, when she was awakened early the next morning by a knocking, she invited the traveler in for tea.
“The traveler proved to be a wonderful companion, so when the traveler left, they promised to keep in touch, and as the pegasus watched her traveler leave, she felt complete, knowing that she’d made a forever friend.
“Now, I know this is one of my shortest stories, but I must say, it’s my favorite.”
“Hey Traveler?” The little filly asked, her curls bobbing.
“Yes?” I responded.
“What’s a forever friend?”
“It’s an older term,” I replied, “It means a really close friend that you’ll never forget, ever.”
They bid me goodbye. The sun was beginning to set, so I made my way to Apple Cider’s house. She wouldn’t be home until very late, but she kept a key under the mat. I let myself in, gently shutting the door behind myself.
I went to her kitchen, thinking that I’d just fix myself a quick dinner, and crash in her guest room. That was not to be the case, as her cupboards were bare. Cider had never been one for cooking, but this was a new low.
“This won’t do at all.”
I walked out the door.
***
About twenty bits poorer, I trotted back in two hours later. My saddlebags were full of various vegetables, butter, and a few spices.
I grabbed a frying pan with my tail and started chopping with my forehooves. The sun was just touching the horizon as I finished chopping. The frying pan I’d set on the stove sizzled nicely as I dropped small slices of butter in.
Time flew by as I fried the vegetables, set the table, and ate my portion. The sun had been down for at least an hour now, and I was exhausted. I left Cider’s portion on the table, and popped the rest in her small fridge.
I stumbled into her guest bedroom, and flopped down onto the bed. I reached for my saddlebags, and groaned as the realization hit me.
I left them in the kitchen, Celestia dang it.
I grunted, relishing the softness of the sheets for a second more, and rolled out of bed to go grab them.
“Good night.”
I awoke early the next day. The sun was shining, it was a lovely day, not a cloud in sight. Not. A. Cloud. This was getting ridiculous.
It was very dry out, the late spring heat made sure of that. Being dry meant a much higher risk for fires, which was not good, especially in the pine forests surrounding Smokey Mountain, as I’ve said before.
I heard a knocking on my door.
“Come in!” I called.
Cider peeked in, a hoof over her eyes. “Can I look at ‘cha?” She asked.
She knew I hated ponies seeing me without my hat. I quickly pulled it on.“Yeah, I'm good.”
“Breakfast will be ready in fifteen, okay?”
I sniffed the air.
“Is that . . . It can’t be . . .”
“Bacon.”
“BACON!? SWEET CELESTIA! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!” I shot out the door, and into the small kitchen. Most ponies, I feel the need to emphasize this again, while perfectly capable of eating meat, found it barbaric. I, on the other hoof, found it delicious. When I first went to the Smokey Mountain Settlement, I learned that lean crop harvests made hunting the less sapient animals a necessity, and some even developed a taste for meat.
Cider laughed, a clear and happy sound that filled the air. “Well, don’t hold in your enthusiasm!”
All of a sudden, the door swung open. A small unicorn mare burst in. She was wearing plain black glasses, a golden ring on her horn, and carrying a large book. She was a very light purple, with a dark blue mane. Her cutie mark was an inkwell, and she looked particularly happy. I looked at Cider, and did a double take. That necklace was not there last night.
“Cider . . . something you want to tell me?” I teased.
“Uh . . . I proposed to Inkscape?” She grinned sheepishly.
“Oh my gosh! Congratulations!” I exclaimed, pulling her into a tight hug.
“Y-you’re not mad that I . . . you know . . . like mares?”
“I may or may not understand on a personal level,” I said. “When’s the wedding?”
She rubbed her hooves together nervously.
“Oh, yes. I forgot you liked her. As for the wedding, I have no idea. Do you know when you’ll be in town next?”
I shrugged. “As long as it’s not in the next five months, I can be there. EEEEH! I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!”
She patted my back. “I’m . . . happy . . . too . . . air . . . please . . .”
I dropped her. “Oops! Sorry!”
“Sooo . . .” Inkscape batted her eyes teasingly. “When are you asking out Joy?”
I sighed. “She doesn’t like me like that.” Bacon sizzled and popped in the background. “Is that burning?”
“It’s like I said.” I grumbled. “She doesn’t like me like that.”
“How do you know?” Inkscape asked.
“Joy’s very outgoing. She would have asked me already.” I slumped down, head in my hooves. “Can we please not talk about my romantic failures?”
“Sorry.” Cider set a plate of steaming bacon in front of my despondent face. “Here, bacon solves problems.”
“But not mine.” I mumbled, grumpily munching on a piece of bacon.
Inkscape pulled me into a hug. “I’m sorry that we made you feel bad. What about a shopping trip?”
Cider looked up from her plate. “I could do that.”
I checked my bit bag. “I’m down for that.”
Inkscape laughed. “Come on! Lets go!” She ran out the door, Cider not far behind.
Glancing between the door and the bacon, I sighed. Grabbing remaining strips, I stuffed them in my mouth. “Wait for me!” I called, trying not to spit bacon bits as I ran after them.
***
We had been shopping for a few hours now. I’d bargained quite a few good deals, trades and other things. Cider and Inkscape were heading back to the tavern, so I’d figured that I might as well tag along.
I trotted inside. It was strangely dark, but I could hear a rustling -
“SURPRISE!”
I jumped, leaping a good four feet into the air.
Tiller came to the front, his big hooves clopping joyfully.
“We got her!” He called to the back of the room.
I smacked him playfully.
“Yes, you big lug, you got me. Now, since this here is a party, I’m assuming that there’s free food?
Tiller laughed, his deep voice echoing around the room. “Yes, there’s free food.”
“Hear hear!” Somepony called from the back of the room. Everypony turned around, revealing a completely innocent-looking pegasus walking around with the punch bowl. She smiled. “Free food!” She cried, hoisting the punch to the sky.
Everypony cheered, rushing towards her. I smiled, and went for the chips.
***
It was late evening, and most everypony was at least a bit tipsy from all the punch. I have no Idea what Cider put in that punch, and I get the feeling that I don’t want to know.
Speaking of Cider, she was one of the few sober ponies left. She was standing by me, a heavily inebriated Inkscape leaning on her. We were laughing at the ponies on the dance floor, as they all stumbled around to the beat of the music.
Inkscape hiccuped once, and then fell asleep leaning on her. Cider smiled. “I think that’s my cue to help her to bed.”
I laughed. “I’ll come too then.” I bid Tiller good night, and we walked upstairs to go to sleep, as it was very late when we collapsed, possibly early morning. Cider gave Inkscape her bed, while she took the couch. I went back into the guest bedroom.
I couldn’t fall asleep, so I watched the stars.
Are you thinking about me?
***
It was late evening in Manehattan, and an artist was rushing home. She adjusted her glasses, wings twitching nervously as she took another turn. The artist skidded to a stop in front of a small art shop, opening the door.
Ignoring the paintings dotting the walls, she trotted along, behind the desk that held a beaten cash register, and through an old wooden door.
Behind the door was a staircase that wound in a tight spiral. The artist climbed it, paying no heed to her tail thumping against the railings as she rushed up.
She crawled into her small bed, snuggling under the bedsheets. The city lights glinted off a framed picture of herself and a significantly shorter creature.
“Goodnight Swift, wherever you are.”
I awoke as usual. Careful not to make a sound, I stole quietly across the halls and into the kitchen. Cider was still on the couch, and Inkscape was passed out in Cider’s bedroom. I filled a glass of water and set it on her nightstand - she was liable to have a nasty hangover when she woke up.
I walked outside in the still-dark morning, feeling the dry ground against my hooves.
That’s worrying, I thought. Not a drop of dew on them. I know that I’m pretty high up, but the ground should be at least a bit wet, and there’s still no clouds.
I sat, scanning the sky until the sun rose. It was beautiful sunrise, but what really took my breath away were the ponies. Cider and Inkscape were locked in kiss, clearly visible through their open bedroom window. I tuned away, my cheeks burning. I had not meant to intrude on such a private moment. Resolving to forget it, I turned and began to canter into town. Today was a business day.
I walked down as farmers set up their stalls, selling fresh fruits and vegetables, though there was less produce and more shriveled crops, my guess from recent lack of water. As their shouts filled the air, I cantered down a little-used side road. Down in the dead end, an old mare was selling dried meat.
Before buying, I had made absolutely certain that she was the real deal. Many ponies sold tofu like it was real meat, and illusion spells were often used to conceal the decidedly not-meatness of it. I had also made sure that it was ponanely sourced, from outside of Equestria.
That also meant that this particular seller sold at some severely elevated prices. It cost me about three bits for one day’s rations. I often bought only about half as much meat as fruit though, because while the fruit was cheaper, the meat was more nutritious.
“Good morning, Mrs. Market.” I said. Despite selling meat in a shady alleyway, she was one of the nicest mares I’d ever met. She knew very well that setting up a stand front and center might make some ponies uncomfortable.
“Good morning, Traveler.” She greeted me, a smile upon her wrinkly face. “The usual?”
“Yes please.” I produced a hefty sack of bits, most of what I had left. “Here’s seventeen bits, as promised.”
She eyed the bag, hefted it, and placed it under the counter. “Feels about right. Here’s your order.” She handed me several carefully packaged and dried rolls of meat.
I stuffed them in my bag.
“Thank you.”
She happily waved me farewell as I trotted away.
I had made all my preparations, but something held me back. My head was ready to leave, but my heart was not.
What am I missing? I thought.
“Traveler! Traveler!”
A voice was calling me.
“Yes?”
“Traveler? Where are you?”
“Near Mrs. Market’s alley!”
A sweaty and panting Cider came bustling through the crowd.
“Swift!” She flopped down on the ground, a picture levitating behind her. She slipped it in my saddlebags. “You forgot this. Go get her!”
I turned bright red. “Bwuh? Cider! I - “
She just laughed. “You’re completely smitten. See you at the wedding, and I swear, if I don’t see your mare there, I’ll drag you to Manehattan, and confess for you!”
With that, she left. If anything, Cider knew how to make an exit.
***
That had happened a few hours ago, and the only thing I remembered, even after receiving compliments from countless ponies as I said goodbye.. Now, I was climbing down the mountain. It was very hot, and I could feel myself sweating underneath my thick fur. Thankfully, I started to cool down as evening approached.
The mountainside, although still quiet steep, was dotted with young pines.
I scurried down the last few feet, onto a wide cliffside. I nervously tested the edges - thankfully, it was quite solid.
I pitched camp, forgoing the tent in favor of a small fire. More stars were out tonight. I watched them into the early hours of the morning, before I finally nodded off. It was foolish for me to stay up considering my journey had just begun, but I really did want to see them after sleeping so many nights indoors. The fire burnt itself to the ground, the coals dying quietly.
***
The artist was working late. Her brush made frenzied strokes across a large canvas, a figure slowly taking shape. A green hat, and happy smile were appearing as the artist devoted more hours to her project.
As the night wore on, instead of becoming weary, she grew invigorated, fed by the wild joy of doing something she loved.
More features were defined. A delicate nose, and green eyes, until standing before her, was her Traveler.
Birds began to tweet as the sun rose, but dark clouds blotted out the skies.
There was a knocking on the door. She ran to it, and opened it. There was a weatherpony standing at the door. His feathers were ruffled, and he was breathing heavily.
“H-hello?”
“Ma’am, there’s been an accident at the weather factory. I’m sure you’ve noticed the lack of white in the sky recently, but those clouds now are electrically charged, and there will be lightning storm. We’ve got our best pegasi trying to corral them now, and the Wonderbolts are doing damage control. You should stay inside, and wait it out. Do not go outside unless absolutely necessary. Understand? The factory gives its apologies.”
Joy glanced up at the roiling clouds.
“How far has it spread?”
The weather pony rubbed his hoof nervously.
“From just below the Crystal Empire to Appaloosa, and from a couple miles out there, “ He waved a forehoof towards the choppy waters surrounding Manehattan, “to further than we’ve explored out on the peninsula by the Smokey Mountain Settlement. We honestly don’t know what happened yet.”Swift.
“Oh no.”
“Ma’am?” The weather pony asked, “are you all right?”
The artist nodded. “Good luck with that storm. I’ve got to go make sure all my lights are off.”
“Stay safe, Ma’am.” He took off down the street, towards the next house over. I saw him bang on the door, and an elderly pony open it.
***
Crack thooooom!
I jumped awake as lightning struck. Confused by the dry surroundings, I reached out, feeling for raindrops.
Not one made contact.
Oh no.
I was currently in a very dry climate, with not a drop of water in sight, even if dark cloud loomed overhead. I checked my fire, breathing a sigh of relief. It was completely dead.
Thank Celestia.
Boom!
Lightning struck again, and the acrid scent of fire reached my nose.
Surrounded by a sea of pines.
I heard explosions as I dashed away. I continued full-out sprinting, even if startled, my saddlebags clenched in my teeth, my cloak still inside them. I heard another sharp crack as a tree exploded, wincing as it showered me with splinters. I could feel myself beginning to hyperventilate as smoke filled the air.
This was terrifying. I felt a terabble heat on my tail. The tuft was on fire, slowly burning. With a yelp, I stopped, dropped, and rolled, thankfully putting the fire out. I had been running down the steep slope, and had now reached the ground.
The fire was even worse down here. Small animals fled beneath me as the heat grew. I could hear birds shrilling desperately overhead. I tried to take a deep breath and calm down, but erupted into a fit of coughing as I inhaled the acrid smell of ashes and smoke.
I looked around for a way out of this nightmare. There was fire everywhere, slowly encroaching.
My ears pricked up as I heard a small trickling sound.
Water!
Water meant a stream or river of some kind. A stream or river meant a wet spot that I could hide by from this terrible fire. I jumped up, trying to find a clear path. Leaping high, I managed to clear the worst of the flames. Small flames licked at my shaggy fur as I rolled, trying to put them out.
I could still hear the water, although it sounded less like trickling and more like an open faucet. My eyes were burning, and I coughed heavily as the smoke invaded my lungs again. I galloped forward, following the flow of critters as they scuttled, scurried, and hopped away.
I poured on speed as the fire grew behind me. I plowed through a few small shrubs in front of me, and barely skidded to a stop.
A flow of water fell over a steep cliffside and disappeared in a cloudy mist, at least a hundred yards below. A small waterfall, but water all the same. It looked like somecreature had come up, and just scooped a huge chunk out of the surrounding land. It was nearly perfectly circular, with few hoofholds.
The forest continued along the cliffside, as far as I could see. Down is not an option, so around it is.
I turned to gallop to an easier way down to the crater of water (and small river preventing the crater from overflowing), but I barely made it thirty feet before the foliage in front of me erupted into flames. I reared up, stopping just short of a scorched face. I backed up as the fire inched towards me.
My hind hooves made contact with the wet rocks surrounding the waterfall, and I nearly slipped. Gasping in surprise, I realized that I could just wait the fire out here, on the rocks. If I kept low, the smoke wouldn’t bother me, and the fire likely wouldn’t reach me here.
A tree exploded in the distance.
Then another.
Another exploded, still far away.
With an ear splitting crack, a tree exploded right beside me. I staggered back, staring in shock at the burning sap splattered across my right side. Small curls of smoke rose from it as it burned my skin and saddlebags.
Another tree exploded, startling me. I jumped.
My heart rose into my throat as I struggled for a hoofhold on the slick rocks of the waterfall.
My back hooves skidded across the slick surfaces of the rocks, and I dangled, until I lost my grasp on the stones.
I slammed my head into a rock, and as I tumbled down the near-vertical cliffside, the sap burning my skin. My vision blurred as my head was slammed again, and again, and again.
Slam.
I’m sorry . . .
***
Joy sat up sharply.
Something is very wrong. She thought. She didn’t know how she knew, didn’t know why, but something was terribly wrong. The dark clouds outside didn't help her panicked state either, as they had still not been cleared out.
Joy jumped as lightning flashed across the sky, followed by one of the loudest cracks of thunder that she’d ever heard. She heard screams from the Istallion restaurant upstairs as the lights sputtered.
The lights flickered and died. Concerned, Joy, lit a candle and held it up as she made her way through the house.
A knocking on the door prompted her to hurry towards it. A royal guard was there, his wings tucked tightly to his sides.
“Good evening,” Joy said, “to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Being one of the more. . . unusual residents of Manehattan had lead to a couple of visits from the royal guard.
“Good evening, Ma’am.” The guard said. “I’m here to let you know about the electrical storm. There was a malfunction in the Cloudsdale weather factory, and a large amount of electrically charged storm clouds have spread across Equestria.”
“I know, it’s terrible!.” Joy said. “Do you know what happened now? How to fix it?”
The guard removed his helmet. “I’m not at a liberty to say, Ma’am. I am to tell you to stay inside, as going outside is potentially deadly.”
“I’ve been told.”
“Are there any other establishments in this fine building?”
I nodded. “There’s an Istallion restaurant up those stairs.”
He trotted up the stairs. On autopilot, Joy trotted to her kitchen. She set a kettle on the stove, and quietly thanking Celestia that her stove was gas, not electric, she turned it on. Gas spewed out, and she lit it with her candle.
The kettle boiled quickly. She sat, with a cup of black tea on the table in front of her, watching lightning flash and crack.
***
A small white shape tumbled down a tall cliffside, the nearby waterfall sending a light mist over it’s shaggy coat. A pair of well-worn saddlebags fell beside it, and a green hat partially covered it’s head.
Its chest was still.
There was a loud shuddering sound.
And.
Then.
Swift.
Breathed.
The first thing I felt was the pain. My eyes shot open, and I attempted to move.
That was a mistake. My right shoulder protested violently, sending a stabbing pain throughout my body.
I waited until the pain subsided to a manageable level. Taking deep breaths, I attempted to turn my head, trying to get a scope of my clearly numerous injuries. Another mistake. My head throbbed, blood dripping through what seemed to be a newly formed scab.
My right side stung with a fiery passion. It was definitely burnt, but not life-threateningly so. What concerned me most was my shoulder. I had received numerous injuries over my life, due to how active I was, so I knew several types of pain.
This was a dangerous one. It was stabbing, and sickening. I knew that my leg wasn’t broken; I’d felt that kind of pain before. This wasn’t as bad - most likely a dislocation. I could fix that, but it would hurt. Honestly, I wouldn’t really have cared if it was broken at that moment, I was just happy to be alive. I didn’t know how I was still breathing, but I wasn’t going to question it. Perhaps my injured shoulder had hit a large rock during the fall, slowing me down before impact with the ground. Better it than my whole body,
Bracing myself, I rolled flat onto my back, legs eagle-spread. I whimpered as my shoulder and burns protested, trying not to scream. Sounds like that would attract predators.
I started turning my foreleg. The pain slowly increased, until I heard a clicking noise. I let out a muffled scream as my shoulder popped back into place. I took deep, shaky breaths, trying not to cry. My pain dropped significantly, going from a sharp, piercing sensation to dull throb. Some of the scariest things I’ve experienced are injuries that I’ve had to deal with myself. It never gets any less terrifying, unlike scaling mountains and things like that.
All right, now what?
I looked around for my saddlebags, knowing that I’d collected a large amount of first aid supplies in case of an emergency. They were sitting a few feet away from me, being lightly dusted with a spray from the nearby waterfall.
I rolled onto my stomach, hissing quietly as my burns protested the movement. I gathered my good legs underneath myself, and, clutching my right foreleg with my mouth, I slowly stood up.
I limped over to the saddlebags, side screaming. I gently sat in front of them, and delicately sifted through. I eventually removed some ice, bandages, antibiotic cream, and a cloth sling. I’d packed cast-like supplies, but they must’ve fallen out during the fall. I didn’t have the strength to go look for them.
The next most pressing issue was that of my burns. I inspected the one along my right side. It was blistered, and angry. There were small bits of dirt and gravel in it, no doubt from the hillside. It stretched from just below my dock to under my withers, encompassing my back and the right side of my ribs. All the fur in that area was gone, burned away.
I carefully removed all the little bits of debris with some makeshift tweezers (made from a partially snapped sprout), and applied antibiotic cream. I then bandaged it, making sure that I could still easily move my legs.
I turned my attention to my head.
My ears were ringing, and I had a killer headache. I gingerly touched the large gouge on my head. It was wide, almost from ear to ear, but luckily my mane had protected the wound from any bits and pieces that might have been lodged in it.
The first step was to clean it. I carefully parted my mane, and removed a canteen from my saddlebags. I doused it in water, red streaks running down my face, probably making me look like some kind of cheap horror movie monster.
I kept pouring until the red faded to a pale pink. I bandaged the wound with care, wincing as the rough gauze touched my tender flesh.
I then turned my attention to my right leg. I decided that a sling was the best course of action, so I gingerly placed it in the cloth, supported by my left shoulder. By now, several hours had passed. It had been early afternoon when I had awoken, and now it was late evening.
I surveyed the clearing I was in. It was roughly circular, about one hundred metres across. I sitting on the edge of a large lake. Basically, anyway. A small river lead away from it, but the water was generally clear and still. It was surrounded by a gently sloping beach of grass and rocks. A large waterfall fed it, as well as a large stream fed through a small hole in the steep cliffside.
There were no tall trees, but instead several small shrubs. I could still smell smoke, but it looked like the forest fire up top had burnt itself out, with help from the lack of wind and gaps between large areas of pine Ponies knew that I was in the area, so all I had to do was wait for the search-and-rescue teams to show up. They usually responded quickly, but as I was pretty far out, and surrounded by manticore territory and mountains, that could take anywhere from three days to a month .
I began to pitch camp, the process significantly slowed by my bad foreleg. Eventually, I got the tent up. My stomach complained, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten. I attempted to light a fire, but was foiled by my bum leg.
I had a cold dinner of dried apple slices, and a roll of jerky. Not the most delicious thing, but I was alive.
And being alive felt good.
***
Joy was working in her studio. The clouds were still outside, grumbling and thundering angrily. There was a pegasus perch just next to her window, most likely connected to the Istallion restaurant and a couple was sitting there, watching the lightning light up the sky.
She’d offered them a blanket, which they’d accepted, and were now happily cuddling. The stallion had his wing awkwardly wrapped around the mare, and she’d snuggled up to him with a happy sigh.
Despite the thunderclouds raging overhead, they were at peace, just with each other, content to sit and watch the world go by without them.
A sketch of Swift was taking shape upon her canvas, the little hybrid’s cheeky smile shining vibrantly. She was wearing her trademark green hat, and her messy hair was framing her face perfectly. Joy felt her heart stutter as she looked at it, almost as if the painting’s eyes were staring into her soul.
“I love you so much,” she told the paper. “I love you, but I’m not the right one for you.
“You need an adventurer, somecreature who can keep up with your wonderful craziness, your long strides, your keen mind. Not me. I know that if I told you this, you’d give up traveling to stay with me in heartbeat, but it’s such a big part of you, and I can’t let you do that.
“I’m sorry.” Joy rested her head on the table, and stared at the dark clouds.
“I’m so sorry.”
I awoke the next morning to the sound of birds tweeting. The sun was visible, so it was probably around eleven in the morning. Fun how injuries force you to rest up sometimes, even if you don’t want to.I changed the dressings on my wounds, and put the sling back on.
If I was going to be here for a while, the best thing to do would definitely be to build some kind of permanent shelter. I looked around, trying to decide what to build. Any kind of upright hut was a no-go, as there were no large enough trees, and even a smaller one would be to much for me to handle in my weakened state.
As I limped along, I noticed that my coordination was a bit wonky. I’d stumble for no reason, and I even fell a few times. Even though I hadn’t eaten anything since last night, I was nauseous.
I’d forgone breakfast, reasoning that while I did need the calories, it wouldn’t do me any good to immediately lose them because of an upset stomach, right? Instead, I just had a sip or two of water.
After I tripped over nothing for the fifth time, I admitted defeat and turned back towards camp. I was exhausted, so I had a quick snack of some dried apricots, rolled over, and fell asleep immediately.
***
It was incredibly late when I woke up. The moon was out, and the stars were beautiful. I shivered as a gentle breeze caressed my long coat.Why am I so cold?
I yawned drowsily, and fell back asleep, unable to focus on the thought for long.
***
It was mid afternoon when I woke up again. The bright light burned my eyes. I groaned.
Stupid Sun.
I tried to get up, but my legs trembled and collapsed. Despite the warm day, I shivered. It was so cold and I didn’t know why. I sluggishly made my way over to my saddlebags, and pulled out a roll of cloth.
I clumsily changed the dressings on my wounds, and crawled into my tent to sleep. I pulled out my thick winter quilts and rolled myself up in them, shivering violently.
I’d never felt anything like this before, and it worried me.
***
Joy was quietly knitting. She was sitting by the window, watching rain pour from the skies. She’d been listening to a new musical named Hamareton, for some inspiration. A blue magic turned the dials, finally settling on a specific channel. This had only happened once before, and that time it was a test.
The channel it had settled on was for emergency broadcasts.
Good evening, fillies and gentlecolts. My name is Soarin’ and for those of you who are unaware, I’m the head of the Wonderbolts’ Search-and-Rescue Department. As all of you know, there was a fire in the forest at the foot of the Smokey Mountain, by Ponyville. If somepony you know was in the area, and you are unsure if they are safe, please send us a letter with both a description and detailed sketch or image of the pony involved. Even if you are just the tiniest bit worried, please send us a letter. We’d rather have a million false alarms than miss anypony in need. To make sure that we don’t miss any, all the letters regarding this must be sent in a red envelope.
If a letter not regarding this cause is sent in a red envelope, the pony in question will receive a lifetime ban from Wonderbolts shows.
I understand that this may seem excessive, but we do not want a pony to die because a fan wanted to be sure that their letter was read.
Please send all letters regarding this matter to P.O. Box 187, 702 Cumulonimbus Rd, Cloudsdale, Equestria, 24564. Again, that is P.O. Box 187, 702 Cumulonimbus Rd, Cloudsdale, Equestria, 24564.
This is Soarin’ of the Wonderbolts, signing off.
Stay safe.
Joy dropped what she was doing. The knitting needles fell to the floor as she dashed across the room to a writing desk on the other side.
She rifled through a drawer of envelopes, finally finding a little red one. It was squished at the bottom of a drawer, and very dusty. She blew it off, and began to write a letter.
Her quill scratched across the page, quickly spelling out words.
Dear Wonderbolts.
This is for Swift Traveling. She was going on a bit of an adventure, and supposed to be in the area. She’s very short, only a bit taller than your average foal. Enclosed are several sketches and a picture of us together. She’s the black-and-white one in the green hat. Please make sure she’s safe.
-Artful Joy (Joy)
She sealed the envelope, and wrote the address on it.
“Please be okay.”
***
When I woke up again, I couldn’t even tell what time it was. I was sweating profusely, but still shivering. My teeth were chattering, and my throat hurt.
I’m going to die.
***
Soarin’ stood up, and shook his coat, fur brushing smoothly over the inside of his uniform. Not two hours after he’d made that announcement, letters had flooded in from all over. He had at least thirteen verified missing pony cases, and about five more that were worth checking out.
He pulled on his goggles, and looked over the rest of his team. Most were weighed down with saddlebags of supplies, while two pulled a chariot with a unicorn in it. The unicorn, a small mare by the name of Paw Print, was the best tracker around.
He signaled to his team, and they took off. It would be a three-hour flight, so best not delay. They settled into formation, flying steadily.
***
I lay on the floor of my tent. It was so cold in here. I was buried in every blanket I had, and still shivering. My breath rasped in my chest as I coughed, and my stomach growled. I slept badly, in fifteen-minute snatches. My eyes quickly grew tired, but I still couldn’t sleep properly, even if I needed the energy.
Weaky, I flipped open my saddlebags. I grabbed a few apple slices, and began to chew on them.
My stomach rebelled, and I threw up onto the cloth floor of my tent. I heaved pathetically for a few moments, and then flopped loosely onto my pile of cushions.
I drifted in and out of consciousness. There were moments when I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming, everything seemed fluid as I sank further and further into a fevered haze.
I awoke to a rustling in the tent.
That’s an odd sound.
I heaved upwards, only to nearly pass out. I was forced to use by ruined leg to push my saddle bags in front of the tent door. It wasn’t enough to keep anything out, but it was instinctive. I cried out as my leg screamed in pain from usage, making the injury worse.
Maybe I should just let it in. Die quickly.
I heard mumbling after my scream was finished. It knew I was injured, ready to pounce. I flinched as my tent was ripped open, but then strong hooves slipped under me, and dragged me out of my tent. I shivered as I breathed the cool night air.
I heard voices above me.
“Is she okay?”
“Who is she?”
“Miss?” A hoof poked my side. “What is your name?”
I looked up at the stallion who’d rescued me. “I’m Swift,” I managed, before passing out.
***
When I woke up, it was late evening. I was resting in a military-style cot, a thick blanket over top of me. A white earth pony mare with a red cross as a cutie mark was sitting in the corner, reading a magazine, clearly waiting for something to do.
I shifted, and attempted to sit up. My head throbbed, so I dropped it back onto my pillow. The nurse, alerted by the noise, trotted over. “Good evening.” She greeted me.
“Where am I?” I rasped, my dry throat making it difficult to speak.
“You’re in the Ponyville Hospital.” She said.
“How-” I coughed. “How’d I get here?”
“The Wonderbolts Search-and-Rescue division found you passed out at the bottom of a steep gulch. You were running a fever of a hundred and eight, so you needed emergency care right away.
“You’ve also got a concussion, and second-degree burns all along your right side. Honestly, I thought that you were going to die when they brought you in.”
I was taken aback. “Oh.”
“You’re going to have to stay here for another week. That should be enough for you to be safe enough to go home.”
I felt my ears burn. “Umm . . .“
Her ears drooped, and her cheeks colored.
“You’re a traveler . . .right . . .anypony that you could live with for like . . . the next three months?”
“Three months !?”
“If you aren’t fully healed before you go adventuring again, you will have a relapse, and spend even longer recovering.” She stated firmly.
“uhm . . . if I give you an address, can you contact the pony living there?” I asked.
“That should be fine.” The nurse said. She whipped out a small pad and looked at me expectantly.
“Uhm . . . 408 Lilac Lane, Manehattan, Equestria, zip code 64533. Her name is Artful Joy, but she goes by Joy, and she runs the art shop underneath the Istallion restaurant in the same place.”
“Joy, art shop, Istallion restaurant, got it!” She smiled. “That was nice and easy. Now, any dietary issues I should know about?”
“I’m allergic to anything involving Poison Joke, She rolled her eyes at that, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I hated that stuff. “I’m omnivorous, although I can live on a vegetarian diet.” I studied her face carefully for any kind of reaction. Ponies usually flipped out when they discovered that I could eat meat.
The nurse just shrugged, even if a bit surprised. “I think that we have some fish in stock, the local manticore hasn’t been around recently.”
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “There’s a manticore here ?”
“Yes, he’s quite nice.” She shrugged. “He visits the local animal caretaker, Fluttershy, for tea every Wednesday.”
I decided that now was not a time to question this town.
***
Four days after sending the letter about Swift to the Wonderbolts H.Q., Joy received another letter. It was very official looking, and had been given to her personally by a cross-eyed mailpony.
It read:
Dear Artful Joy,
Swift Traveling is currently a resident of Ponyville Hospital due to numerous injuries. None are life-threatening, but she will be unable to resume her rover lifestyle for three months after she is discharged.
Ms. Swift listed you as a primary contact. If you are willing and able to care for her for the three months that she will be unable to live on her own, please reply immediately, and come to Ponyville on September the 18th, and pick her up.
If you are unable or unwilling to care for her, please reply immediately.
Sincerely,
Nurse Redheart
***
My time in the hospital passed by quickly. I spent most of it dozing, trying to sleep off my fever. Whenever I was awake, I read, trying to pass the time.
Before I knew it, a week had passed by. There was a knocking at my door.
“Who is it?” I called.
“It’s me!” A cheerful, happy voice answered.
Joy! I reached for my bedside table. My hat was there, having been repaired by the town’s local tailor. She’d refused any payment, which I was grateful for.
“Come in!”
The door flew open. In bounced a turquoise hurricane. My best friend Joy was very tall, approaching Princess Luna in height. She had a vibrant purple mane and tail-tuft. Her eyes were golden, with slit pupils, and cream-colored horns jutted from just above the base of her ears. She had a long snout, with two sharp fangs protruding from her upper lip to just below her chin, and a scaly yellow underbelly reaching from her lower jaw to the tip of her tail.
Her forelegs were draconic, each ending in four very sharp claws. Her hind legs were pony-esqu, although she lacked a cutie mark. Her thin-rimmed glasses glimmered in the harsh hospital light as her draconic tail lashed from side to side. It was about half again as long as her body.
She had enormous bat-like wings. When fully stretched out, her wingspan was about twenty feet, and she always got envious looks from pegasi when walking down the street.
She was also currently using that large wingspan to bring me into a very undignified hug. “Swift!” She said excitedly.
I buried my face in her thick fur. “Joy.” I murmured.
The End... for now.
