At the rate he was moving, there was a legitimate fear that perhaps he would miss the festival entirely. Swatting aside some thicket, he passed through the wide brush, the dry branches creaking and snapping as they were tugged upon by his coat. The forest had slowly transformed into a dense shrubland, largely devoid of trees, though there were patches here and there. It was also clear to him that his angle of approach through the forest was much more obtuse than he had expected, considering he had not seen the road yet even after all his time hiking through nature.

He at least knew he was on the right track, if his compass and maps were right, and so long as his navigation skills hadn’t suddenly and spontaneously deteriorated over the course of the past few days. But who knew, those strange berries he had eaten a day prior could be melting his brain at this very moment, and he wouldn’t know.

The man shook the thought away, no reason to start drowning himself in such thinking. The land was turning quite rocky, and there were moments when a step he took was complemented by a smooth stone, barely visible under the dirt, that could easily break an ankle. These were the things he needed to focus on, not some ridiculous worries on the side effects of eating foreign food.

He lost the track of time after that. Taking his time watching his steps across the flatlands, making sure not to slip on loose rocks or land his foot in a gopher hole, while doing his best to avoid the waist high walls of thicket and shrubs, he would prefer less cuts and scrapes on his coat. The old thing had suffered enough already over the years.

Taking refuge under a thin tree, he ate and drank sparingly, aware of the need to preserve water for the hike through the desert, if he decided to brave it. Retrieving his map and compass from his pack he made sure he was still heading in the right general direction, until a glint caught his eye. His head snapped up, eyes steadily scanning the distant horizon littered with patchy bundles of bushes.

There! A glint of blue and white, barely noticeable through a shrub. It was moving at a constant and steady pace, barely a blip in the waves of heat rising from the surface of the earth. He stood up from his place and squinted, tugging down on the brim of his hat to keep the shadow in his eyes. As he tracked the oddly colorful spot, he noticed another blip. This one was red and yellow. And another trailed behind it, slightly higher from what he could tell, and with cool purples and greens.

Could it be?

He frantically placed his maps and other belongings away that he had set out during his rest, and heafted the pack upon his back again. The pots and pans clanged and rang as he hobbled his way across the plains towards the colors. More appeared and in much denser formation as he closed in, and their shapes and shades were detailed more to him. They were wagons! Wagons of many different kinds. Some were painted with a great array of colors that popped against the brown and greens and whites of the shrubland, thankfully so. Others were simple wooden browns accompanied by the dark greys of iron and metal fastenings.

There had to be dozens of these things. Most were simple covered wagons, like the ones of great pioneers of old, their white and sometimes yellow tarps protecting against the sun beating down from above, pulled by oxen or even by their own owners, if they were earth ponies, or were hired hooves. Some were simply carts loaded down with goods of many types, though these were most often accompanied by a covered wagon for their owners to rest in themselves. There were even wagons that were much more akin to the look of a mobile home, tall and with doors and windows dotted about the things, each unique in build as much as style and color, but these were the rarest that he saw. It was a whole caravan!

Smacking a bush aside with his walking stick, his feet stepped out, not onto more gravelled dirt, but stone. The road was as it had been like he remembered before entering Feltlocke days ago: dirt with a great amount of cobbled stones mixed in, packed tight and crumbling from it’s abuse and general neglect. He felt a smile reach his lips at the sight. It seems he had made it after all.

He stepped out onto the road fully, and watched the wagons go by patiently. Most of the ponies didn’t pay him much mind, especially if they were driving their carts forth. But when there were those sat silently upon the benches and in the carts themselves, usually mares or older members of family, along with the occasional foal, they looked him up with plain neutrality, sometimes with curiosity, but always with a hint of caution. Especially the mares with their children.

He thought a silent thanks to lady luck, though it had taken him longer than he would have liked for him to find the road, it was better than he could have hoped for once he was actually there. While he was sure these ponies were headed south toward Los Pegasus, even if they turned out not to be, they would still prove valuable until he split off. All these ponies meant more security for himself, as well as opportunity to practice his trade. He smiled at the thought of coin, but pushed the vision and sound of a hefty coin pouch to the back of his mind. For now, he would stand and watch, waiting for the ample moment to join in on the march.

Darkness soon began to shroud the land, the twilight settling upon the horizon. White specs of stars poked through the night. It had taken him a while to reach the area where the wagons had docked and settled, considering he had stopped to rest more than once. The crackling of fires and the murmuring chatter of ponies were quiet as he stood on the road, his figure mostly hidden behind a patch of trees and bushes, but beyond was a rather large clearing where families and merchants had settled down for the night. They all talked and laughed with each other, and it was no doubt to the man that these travellers had been on the road together for some time, if not outright friends outside of this life on the road.

He gripped his stick tight, watching them with weary eyes for a moment. Should he approach? He could at least perhaps offer up some goods. But, seeing the groups huddled close together around fires, eating and drinking and enjoying pleasant company, he decided against it. Turning on a heel, he took back to the road and started down it for a bit longer.

Eventually, he came across another decently sized clearing, not even a ten minute walk from the caravan’s current campgrounds, and knew it would be a good place to rest for the night. Setting down his pack, he started to work on a fire. His fire log was perfectly regenerated now, and looked as good as he had first purchased it. He was glad that magic seemed to work on everything. Making a fire quickly, the clearing was touched by it’s crackling yellow light. Out came a can of beans from his orange pack, which he dumped upon his pan, and watched them cook. A light meal, perhaps too light. He ate slowly, savoring the food, and cleaned his utensils. The standard routine.

But something caught his eye, a dim flash of a reflection in the brush. His head snapped to the spot, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Eyes scanning the edge of the fire light, he didn’t hear anything--

SNAP!

The crunch of a branch made him do a 180, and he heard an EEP!

“Who’s there!” He shouted.

A thick bush rustled, and through the lightest parting of the low branches he saw two beady eyes gaze out at him, their teal irises the only definite tell that there was something, or rather someone, hiding there.

“Come on out, I know you’re in there.” The man commanded, but kept his voice moderate. It was clear that it wasn’t a wolf or other beast that he was speaking to.

From the bush came an earth pony foal, who’s dark blue coat and deep black mane did well to hide his form until he stepped into the light of the fire.

The man cocked a brow, and rested himself back into his spot on the ground, “Now what do we have here.” He muttered, leaning down towards the foal, who rubbed a hoof against his foreleg under the gaze of the human, “What are you doing all the way out here?” Asked the man.

The foal seemed to wince even more, but managed to look up to meet the man’s eyes, “How are you so tall?” The foal asked, ignoring the man’s initial question, or perhaps afraid to answer.

Seeing that the young pony was a bit distant, the man slacked his shoulders and smiled weakly, “By eating my fruits and vegetables.” He answered the foal.

The blue pony looked up from the ground towards the man’s tired face, “I always eat my vegetables.” His snout scrunched up, “I don’t like the radishes mom makes me eat very much, though.”

The man shook his head, “I’m not a fan of them either.” He looked towards the fire, poking it with a stick, “Tell me, little one. Why are you out here, all alone?” He asked less forcefully this time.

The foal seemed to tense again, “I...um, well, wanted to see you up close.” He again rubbed his foreleg with a hoof, “I...you...kinda’ reminded me of somepony.”

The human gazed down with a curious look, “Did I now? Have you seen other humans before?” Perhaps it was simply possible he had passed through this foal’s town or village, potentially years ago, but he was willing to admit that he most likely would have forgotten at this point.

The foal, unsurprisingly, shook his head, his baggy mane swishing down his withers, “No, seeing you up close. I can see the difference. Between you and them.”

“So you thought coming over to spy on a stranger was a good idea?” The man asked, “Just to satisfy your curiosity?” The foal nodded, rather enthusiastically, and the man couldn’t help but smile, “An adventurous type, and a risk taker? You know, I like your style, son. What’s your name?”

“Crystal Night.” The foal responded.

“Crystal Night?” The man stated, “Seems like an odd name for an earth pony.”

The dark pony rubbed his forelegs, gazing down at the ground again, “You’re not the only one to say that.” He mumbled.

The man frowned, realizing his mistake, “I’m sorry, Crystal Night. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Crystal Night looked up, a small smile on his muzzle, “It’s okay. It’s the name my mom and dad gave me together, so that makes it extra special.” He said, “And my friends call me Crystal. If you want to use that name.”

The man returned Crystal’s smile, “I’m a friend now?”

Crystal shrugged, “Why not? You seem pretty nice. Definitely not as scary as I thought you would be.”

The man chuckled, “Heh, I’m glad you think so.”

“So, what’s your name, mister?” Crystal asked.

His smile drooped, and after a second he looked back into the fire burning warm and bright in the cold of the early night, “I don't really have one. At least, not around here." His eyes peered at the foal, who's face was wide in surprise, and a streak of sadness, almost pity. It made the man's heart sink. "But...you can call me Peddler.” The man responded.

Crystal's features morphed to a look of confusion, his large eyes somehow more expressive than even adult ponies. Maybe it was because foals had big heads and little bodies? The man figured that was reasonable, “Peddler? Now that is a weird name for...a human.” He had paused for a moment, as if to remember what the man had called himself before.

Peddler shook his head, “And how would you know? I thought you said you didn’t know any other humans?”

Crystal, after a moment, nodded, moving a bit closer to the fire, “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” They sat there in silence for a moment, the man poking at the ashy log with his stick, his back resting on his pack.

“You said you had a ma’ and pa’, where are they?” Peddler asked.

Crystal looked up, his teal eyes shining in the light, “Back at camp. I was going to play with the other foals but...none of them wanted to.”

“How come?”

Crystal looked down, “I don’t know. They just didn’t. I guess they were too scared to play out in the dark.”

Peddler smirked in the shadow of his hat, “But not you, huh?”

Crystal shrugged his little shoulders, “No, not really. I kind of like the dark. But I guess I got mom to blame for that. She did name me ‘Night’ anyways.” Crystal chuckled.

“Speaking of which…” Peddler started, “It’s getting quite late. I’m sure your parents wouldn’t appreciate you staying out this late.”

Crystal sprang up in sudden realization, “Oh, you’re right! I guess I should go back then, huh.”

“Here…” Peddler groaned as he stood up onto his sore feet, “Let me walk with you at least. It can be dangerous out here in the wilds at night. Especially for a youngin’ like you.”

Crystal pouted, “What, you don’t think I can’t find my way back?”

The man picked up his walking stick, and gripped it tight, “No. But what kind of person would I be if I let something happen to you? Hmm?” At that, he started taking a few short steps forward, and Crystal relented, moving through the brush again.

It was a short walk to the campgrounds, Peddler, or so he had called himself, could see the fires and lanterns of the wagons a mile off, the pair stopped short of the clearing, and the man ushered the foal forth, “Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”

Crystal looked back confused, but did as he was asked, and trotted out of the brush and into the campgrounds. A stallion, an earth pony like Crystal, came rushing forth to him from one of the fire pits, his shiny pearl coat and bright dandelion yellow mane reflecting the light of the fire, his pallet fitting right in with the bombastic array of color from his peers and their transports. A few other ponies closed in, them talking in bare murmurs from this distance.

His job now done with the foal safely returned ‘home’, the man turned to leave, but was stopped suddenly by a foreign voice, “Hey, you!” Turning around once again, he saw the white stallion looking directly at him, a smile on his face, “Thanks for bringing my son back safe and sound, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him.”

Crystal looked annoyingly up at the stallion, “Daaaad! I knew what I was doing!”

The father looked down with a critical eye, “And yet, this fellow had to bring you back to us on his own.”

Crystal looked ready to retort, but the man interjected before he could, “It wasn’t a problem sir, trust me.” His gaze fell on the foal, “Now that he’s back safe, I’ll just be on my way.” He turned to leave again, but was once again stopped.

“Now come on, don’t be a stranger, sir! A friend of my son is a friend of mine.” The human could practically hear the smile on the stallion’s face, “Why don’t you stay, and share a meal with us, hmm? As a way to say ‘thanks’?”

The man hesitated, and almost made to walk away again, but this time he stopped himself. What was he doing? Where was this sudden antisocial streak coming from? He would jump immediately on the opportunity to meet new people, have a good meal, and maybe make a few bits along the way. What was so different now? Wasn’t this part of his plan anyways? To meet with these ponies and at least try and sell them some wares? Why the hesitation?

All questions that he couldn’t answer with certainty.

After a moment, he heard the small group of ponies begin to disperse, though he could still feel the look of Crystal and his father on the back of his head, and, against his mind’s judgement, faced them fully, “Alright.” He answered, stepping out of the brush and into the clearing, the campfire’s light casting the shadows away from him, “I’d like that.”

Author's Note

It lives!

Let me know your thoughts, be they good, bad, or ugly. It's what keeps me going!