Wild breathed steadily in rhythm with his hoofbeats as he trotted through the forest just outside the Royal Orphanage. Artful was following him, not even lagging behind, and so did Precision and Swingblade. The winds blew chilly air across them all, helping them cool as they jogged. None of them spoke, saving their breath.

Wild had finally decided to expand his horizons, so to say, and so now he ventured outside of the Royal Orphanage regularly, and it all started with making his jogs longer and more varied, hence why he was making his way through the forest to Ponyville. He wanted to participate in the Running of the Leaves, but unfortunately it had already passed, so he was left to jog alone. However, he did not have to be by himself - Artful was more than willing to join, and Precision and Swingblade had already been his jogging partners for some time.

One, two, one, two, like a drum. Dry leaves crunched under his hooves and the hooves of the others. He was still barely breaking a sweat, not even breathing that hard, but it was apparent the others weren’t quite in that good of a state. Artful was keeping up, sure, but Wild could hear that he would start flagging behind relatively soon at this pace. Precision and Swingblade, having trained for far longer, were still doing well, but even they didn’t seem to have it as easy as Wild did. Wild then made sure to slow down a bit so that all of them would get to Ponyville without a problem.

Wind rustled the few remaining leaves, detaching them from the trees. The sun shone brightly overhead, but there was a thunderstorm scheduled for the evening, and dark clouds were already being gathered. The dry packed dirt road would turn into mud under the heavy rain, so the group would need to return to the Royal Orphanage before that happened if they hoped to stay both dry and clean. However, that was still hours away, so there was no need to worry just yet.

Soon enough, the trees parted, and Ponyville came into view, looking like a quaint little village that it was. A house here and there had its roof worked on, likely in preparation for the thunderstorm, and someone was erecting a tall metal pole on one of the hills. Other ponies were milling about going about their business, sometimes checking various clocks scattered around the village that helpfully marked the time when the thunderstorm would start. It appeared no one wanted to be caught under it.

The group slowed down from a brisk trot to a slow one, then shifted to a fast walk, and then to a regular one. They approached one of the public fountains, drank greedily from it, and then sat on one of the benches nearby, resting.

“Feels good,” Swingblade commented, stretching, “Thanks for letting us come with, Wild.”

Wild nodded to him, breathing deeply and calmly to chase away the last small bits of physical excitement from his system.

Once everyone recovered, they approached the local market. Unsurprisingly, it was currently focused on rain-related things such as heavy raincoats, rubber boots, and umbrellas. However, that was not why the group was there - instead, they approached the Apple family stall where, unsurprisingly, plenty of apple products were sold.

“Hello, Wild, everyone,” Applejack greeted him, recognizing him immediately, “What do y’all need?”

Everyone browsed the offerings for a moment, which were surprisingly plentiful. Wild had no idea how many things could be made from apples, although it was not all apple. He made his choice first.

“A harvest bowl,” he said, gesturing at a bowl containing a mix of apple pieces, various vegetables, and buckwheat. It smelled positively delicious, “Bottle of apple juice, and... apple pie cookies, please.”

The last thing looked like mini apple pies, which Wild thought was kind of adorable. And very likely delicious too.

“I’ll have baked apples and apple juice, please,” Artful said next.

“I’ll have two apple pies, apple pie cookies, a bottle of apple juice, and a slice - no, two slices - of applesauce cake, please,” Swingblade said, “Oh, and, uh, two apples, just... any of them.”

“Growing stallion needs to eat, huh?” Applejack smiled.

“I’ll get that harvest bowl and a bottle of apple juice, please,” Precision said.

Soon enough, everyone had paid and gotten their orders. They thanked Applejack and then went to settle down on a nearby bench to eat. Swingblade pretty much tore into the first apple pie, consuming it in what seemed like seconds, crumbs falling everywhere as well as sticking around his mouth

“Wha?” he asked, his mouth still half-full, when he found Precision staring at him, amusement on her face.

“You’re gonna get fat.”

“Am not!” he argued even as he stuffed an apple pie cookie in his mouth, “Mmm, delish’is.”

Wild nodded to that as he used a wooden fork - one that was provided to him when he asked - to scoop and spear some of his harvest bowl contents. He ate the forkful, and hummed in agreement - it was delicious indeed. Still rather warm too.

Artful, next to him, was enjoying his own baked apples too, though he wasn’t eating anywhere near as fast as Swingblade, who had already gone through both his pies and was now enjoying applesauce cake if the noises from his mouth were any indication. Precision was, like Artful, not hurrying with her own food.

Wild hummed as he thought about the real reason why he decided to go to Ponyville - he wanted to find a job. Not a long-term one, but something that he could do immediately and get some money, plus get at least some minimal experience in working. He found out that a lot of smaller places like villages had notice boards that often had locals looking for someone to do something for them. This kind of thing usually didn’t even require a contract, working on a sort of honor system where there weren’t really employers and employees, just two or more sides exchanging money for a favor or two. Naturally, even such jobs were legally limited, considering that otherwise certain people would want to exploit that kind of trust long-term. So, any job that took more than a couple days to finish required a proper labor contract, not just verbal agreement.

Wild realized that he, at least for now, wasn’t looking for a long-term job. He still didn’t know what it was that he wanted to do in his life, and he was grateful for the opportunity not to rush into things, hoping for the best. He could take his time to decide, and in the meanwhile he wouldn’t go hungry or homeless. Even as a part of him wanted to jump into things, wanted to be fully independent of any sort of charity, he knew that he wouldn’t be all that happy if he picked a path in life that he didn’t truly want. He believe it was high time he did what he wanted, not just what he needed to do for the sake of survival.

Once everyone was done eating, the plates and bowls - wooden plates and bowls - as well as all the cutlery was returned to Applejack.

“Thanks, y’all, come again sometime!” she told them, and none of them disagreed. Everything was delicious, and Wild could certainly see himself spending his money on Apple Family apple products in the future, they certainly knew how to make it all excellent.

Now, the group split. Precision went her way to visit her fillyfriend, and Wild purposefully avoided catching her thoughts about what the two were going to do. However, he accidentally caught Swingblade’s own desires.

“I’ll look around,” was all that he said, yet his destination was clear as day - a local brothel. Wild could... perhaps understand the want to relax that way. Perhaps not exactly relax unless - and Wild stopped his thoughts right there. Swingblade’s sexual life was not his business, and he sure didn’t seek to make it his business. He could admit that Swingblade was reasonably handsome, but Wild had his eyes on one stallion and one stallion only.

However, for now, Wild and Artful went their separate ways. Artful wanted to buy some art things, and Wild went looking for a job to do. Fortunately for him, the local notice board did not disappoint.

TREMOLO, BLAST BEAT, DEEP NOTE LOOKING FOR A UNICORN

The job description was essentially ‘help us move heavy things with magic’. The price for the job was listed as well, and Wild committed it to memory. Honestly speaking, he wasn’t doing it exactly for money, but... to prove to himself that he could do a job, that he was not just taking space and living life at the expense of others. Finally, he had the opportunity and the will to do something about that feeling. Wild took note of the address and went on a steady trot to the place. It was one of the squat houses at the edges of Ponyville, not particularly large or fancy. As Wild approached, he spotted a large carriage parked right outside of it. It was both wide and tall, certainly wide enough for Wild to lay down inside and stretch. It had windows, was painted white, and had a sloped roof. In some ways, it reminded him of camper vans and trailer homes. He thought that it was likely just that, an Equestria equivalent to those things. Perhaps he could get one someday if he wanted to travel the world.

“Oh, hi!” he was greeted by a pegasus who stepped out of the carriage, “Here for a job?” Wild nodded, “Alright, good! How heavy can you lift things?”

Wild thought for a moment. Luna didn’t measure it when he was training his magic, but Wild was fairly certain he could easily lift a whole car, perhaps even a decently sized truck without breaking a sweat. Not that he could test it, considering that those things didn’t exist in Equestria, but perhaps the closest equivalent would be some kind of a small train cart.

“I can lift this,” he gestured at the large camper carriage. It seemed, if he was accurate with his estimations, like something that he would be able to lift. Cars, he knew, were heavy because of all the metal, especially the engine. This carriage was, as far as he could tell, mostly wood. Not that wood was exactly light, but... actually, were modern cars not lighter because of some special materials? He didn’t exactly keep up with the car world, so he didn’t know. In any case, he disregarded the thought as unimportant. What mattered right there and then was his ability to lift what he could.

“Da-um, that’s impressive,” the pegasus whistled, “Alright, we don’t need you to lift anything that big, just a few crates. Come on, I’ll show you,” he turned to the squat house, “Ay yo, Tremolo, Deep Note, I found a guy!” he turned to Wild, “Uh, you’re a guy, right? Sorry for not asking first.”

“I am a guy,” Wild nodded. He still didn’t really feel like he definitely wanted to be called a guy, but he was used to it, he wasn’t against it, and so he would just continue as he was.

“Alright. And, uh, what’s your name?”

“Wild.”

Tremolo and Deep Note turned out to be pegasi as well, and all three were stallions. Tremolo had beige fur and brown mane, Deep Note had gray fur and black mane, and Blast Beat had white fur and red mane. In sequence, they had a guitar, a longer guitar that Wild thought was bass, and a drum kit as their talent marks. It was easy to figure out that all three of them were part of a band.

Wild went inside the house with them and spotted a number of wooden crates, half of them nailed shut.

“See, we’re moving to a city, so we’re packing up our instruments and stuff. Already sold the house, so we kinda need to get a move on soon, the sooner the better,” Blast Beat explained, “Think you can move all those crates into our cart quickly?” Wild nodded to that, “Alright then. Guys, let’s finish packing, Wild here will carry the crates. Seems we’re out of here today.”

For the next ten minutes or so, Wild was carrying the crates from the house to the camper cart, stacking them where he was directed. Meanwhile, the pegasi packed the rest of all their things into the crates, and then nailed the crates shut. Curiously, the hammers they used were essentially metal shoes that they strapped on. Which, of course, made total sense to Wild - it wasn’t like traditional - or human-friendly - hammers would work that well with hooves. In no time, everything was put into the camper cart, then tied down so it wouldn’t fall when moved. Wild, predictably, wasn’t even feeling the weight he had been carrying around.

“Well damn, that was fast,” Blast Beat said, “Say, wanna join us in the future? Once we do tours, that is. We could use someone who’s doing this sort of stuff as easily as you do.”

“...Maybe,” Wild allowed, though he didn’t think he would want to carry things around for a band of musicians as a regular sort of job. However, despite how boring it sounded, it would bring him money, so it would be wise to consider it, especially since it would also be quite easy.

“Yeah, alright, I’ll send you a letter or something in the future,” the pegasus shrugged, then took a small bag that had been sitting on the table inside the camper cart, “Here’s your pay, just like what it said on the notice board. Don’t be shy, count it all. I’m, uh, a bit bad at numbers sometimes, so yeah.”

Wild took the bag and then started counting the coins. It wasn’t much, naturally, but he thought it was still a decent amount for the work that he had done. When he finished counting, he realized that there was a few extra bits. Now, he could probably claim them for himself, but...

“You gave too much,” he said, “Three bits extra.”

“Well, better than short-changing you,” Blast Beat shrugged, “Keep it. Treat it like a tip for speed if you’d like.”

Wild was not going to question it, so he nodded, and then put the bag of bits in the pouch of bits that he had brought along.

“Thank you,” he settled on saying.

“Nah, thank you, we’d probably be caught in that thunderstorm if not for how damn fast you did this,” Blast Beat smiled, “Alright, I’ll see you around, yeah? Oh, and our band’s called Rushing Circles, come see us sometime. We’ll give you a free ticket, even.”

Wild nodded, deciding that perhaps in the future he would take them up on the offer. After all, he hadn’t actually listened to much music that Equestria had to offer, and he was curious. He would have likely already discovered a lot more things if internet existed, but it appeared he would have to travel if he wanted to see and hear more things.

Wild and Blast Beat exited the camper cart, and Wild went on his way. Artful was likely still around wherever a local art shop was, so he would join him there and see if there was anything else to do before thunder struck.

“Guys, come on, we gotta get ahead of the thunderstorm!” Blast Beat yelled, and all three pegasi rushed to lock the cart up, then strapped themselves in front of it. Wild watched as they took a running start and then took off much like a plane, all three of them beating their wings in unison, somehow pulling the heavy cart through the air as if it weighed no more than a kite. Wild gazed after them as they grew smaller and smaller, going westwards.

It was perhaps the easiest money Wild had ever made, and this made something inside of him relax minutely. It appeared he would not have a single problem finding a job in the future even if he used telekinesis only.

Author's Note

There's a band called Russian Circles that I had randomly stumbled on shortly prior to writing this chapter, and that's the band I'm referencing here. It's an instrumental post-metal band, give it a listen, it's quite nice.