Settling into a place by the rather large fire pit, the man who had come to be known as Peddler sat on the cold ground of the brush-filled plains. He crossed his legs, and rested his stick over them. There was a pot suspended over the fire from a tripod holder, it’s cast iron lid keeping any hints of its contents unknown to the eye and nose. Around the campfire were some chairs, simple folding ones with a bit of padding on them, two of which were occupied.

“Again, I can’t thank you enough for bringing back my boy.”

Sat to his left, just a few feet away, was Crystal’s father. The foal in reference was sat just between the two, still pouting at the stallion.

“And again, It was no problem, sir.” Pedder responded.

The stallion waved a hoof, “Oh, none of this ‘sir’ business. The name’s Yellow Stone. On account of the mane.” He said smiling as he flicked his rather long and sleek mane. The man wouldn’t be lying if he said it was almost feminine in nature. But then again, most ponies did have rather long and silky manes, even the stallions.

He didn’t dwell on this detail long, “You can call me Peddler.” The man said.

Yellow Stone nodded, “Peddler, huh? What’s the story behind that? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Well, it's sort of my profession.”

Yellow Stone rose a brow, and Crystal Night was also listening intently, the dark foal a real contrast to his brightly colored father, “I’ve never heard of...a peddler before. Is it cutie mark related? I got my name not just from my mane, after all. My family owns a quarry up in Hoofington, it’s been in the family for generations you see, we’ve been mining out stone and minerals since--” The stallion cut himself off, realizing he was ranting about himself, rather than letting his guest continue, “Sorry.” He apologized.

Peddler smiled, “No worries, Stone. Can I call you Stone?” At the stallion's nod, he continued, “No, humans don’t have a cutie mark. We choose what we do. And Peddling is what I do. I’m like a merchant, I suppose.” He looked to the fire, staring at the cast iron pot suspended over the flames, “Though I don’t ever really stay in one place. The search for new product is always a priority. And new people to sell to as well.”

“So you’re just a travelling merchant, but without the wagons and stuff?” Yellow Stone questioned.

The man nodded, “Yep. That about sums it up.” He looked to the stallion, “You said you owned a quarry?”

Before Yellow Stone could answer, Crystal piped up, “Yep! It’s the biggest one in the whole of Equestria! And we don’t just dig up rocks, but also gems and crystals!”

His father smirked at his son’s enthusiasm, “Well, I don’t know about the ‘biggest’, but we do mine out gems occasionally, but thanks to this tyke here, we got our hooves on quite the variety of deposits.”

The foal nodded rapidly, “Yeah! That’s how I got my cutie mark!” He stood up from his seat and presented his flank to the human: there was what looked to be a geode split to reveal beautiful white sparkling quartz, as bright as the stars in the night sky. The man chuckled, the relation of names and cutie marks in this world always gave the man an odd feeling. Parents (usually the mare alone) naming their children most often after physical attributes at birth, though often related to professions or traditions that the foals didn’t even know existed, only for, sometimes decades later, their marks to perfectly reflect the things they were named for. Crystal Night was very much a clear example of the magic of this world at work.

Though the man’s smile faded slightly. He didn’t know what it would be like to have a mark, or to, in hindsight, know from the beginning what you will do in life. But, as happy as it seemed to make ponies, knowing they were doing what they were made to, he couldn’t help but be glad to not be tied down by fate, and very literal destinies. Though if he had known of his situation-to-be, he might not have been here at all...

“Peddler, are you alright?”

The man looked away from the fire, and first noticed Yellow Stone looking at him with a concerned expression, and noticing secondly that Crystal Night was gone.

“I’m fine. Just thinking.” Peddler responded.

Yellow Stone nodded, “We all have much to think about these days.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence as they watched the fire, but after a long moment the man finally spoke up, a sarcastic tone to his voice, “Say, your name might not also be related to natural parks, would it?” He half asked, half chuckled.

Yellow Stone, on the other hand, looked at him confused, “No...no I don’t think so. What made you think that?”

Memories of home came back to him vaguely, as if he was looking through a fog, and his smile fell again, “Just...no real reason.”

Yellow Stone didn’t seem to catch his darker tone, or if he did he didn’t react on it. Not that he would have had time to anyways, as Crystal Night soon appeared again trotting happily up to the fire, “Mom said the soup should be ready, dad.” He told the stallion, the foal having left sometime during the man’s musing.

That got Yellow Stone smiling as he clapped his hooves together, “Good! I’m starving. I’ll go help your mother get the bowls and utensils.” He said as he stood from his chair, and eyed down his son, his casual voice taking an authoritative tone, “Don’t you run off again. I don’t want to have to send Peddler out to get you.” With that the stallion disappeared around the fire, which was really quite large even by the man’s standards, and left Crystal Night there with him.

It wasn’t long before the white stallion came back around, a tray of wooden bowls and spoons balanced perfectly on his back, a feat that always impressed the man to this day, no matter how many ponies he had seen do it. He took one of the bowls and spoons gladly with thanks. “I’d like you to meet my wife.” Started the stallion, and Peddler noticed a shadow move even in the light, and his eyes flicked to it’s place to his right, “Lavender Shade.”

There a mare stood, with locks of curling light purple bangs of mane flowing down the front of her face and across her neck, with fur a dull grey. But, what surprised him was the deep, emerald green slit irises that studied him with a curious look. And even from here, he could see the thin, pearl white fangs grazing her lower lip.

She was a bat pony.

In one of her leathery wings was held a wooden bowl, and in the other a hook for opening the blazing hot lid of the pot. Her attention broke from looking at him, to opening the pot. Out poured the smells and vapor of something tangy and oddly spicy, and with a ladle she perfectly filled her own bowl, and then brought the soup filled ladle over to him, “Soup, Mr. P?” She asked, her little smile slightly cut off by her fangs.

“Um, yes. Yes, thank you.” The man answered as he removed his hat in presence of the lady among them, while also trying not to stare. He had not seen a bat pony in years. Not since he had visited the small town of Hollow Shades; they had not been as welcoming as he would have hoped. And since that day (it was quite a short one) he had never seen another one of their kin. Some days he even wondered if they were real, or if perhaps in his cluttered mind they were just some far-off thing of his imagination, taken from memories of the many places and oddities he had seen and smashed them together to form this strange race of ponies.

But no, here was a mare of their elusive species right before them, and serving him soup!

Yellow Stone and Crystal Night got their own hearty portions, and the mare sat beside the man to his right, and the foal to his left beamed up at him, “You like tomatoes, right? My mom makes the best tomato soup!” Even after he said that, the foal stared up at him with those teal eyes of his, as if waiting patiently for the man’s reaction. Looking down at the bowl in his hands, it was in fact a rather simple looking tomato soup, thick and steaming. Though as simple as it was, the smell made him salivate, considering he hadn’t had a proper meal since leaving Feltlocke, he doubted he would have cared if the soup was too watery, or perhaps even too tangy and thick.

Taking the spoon up and dipping it in, he blew on the hot liquid and sipped. The flavors exploded on his tongue, and it became clear that this wasn’t Campbell’s tomato soup out of a can, nor was it anything he had tasted in pony diners either. This was something different, it was sweet, but somehow also a bit spicy, and the tanginess of the tomatoes were countered by a hint of citrus within. For such a normal looking soup, it was extraordinary.

Peddler looked down to see Crystal beaming up at him, before tending to his own soup. Peering to his right, he saw the mare there sipping at her own soup, though occasionally her large, slitted eyes jumped between her bowl and his face. It seemed she was also judging his reaction, so he decided to sate her curiosity, “This soup is absolutely delicious, Mrs. Shade.”

She grinned up pridefully at him, even to her husband she was quite a small thing, “Please, just Lavender.” Her black wings twitched lightly, “And thank you.”

“It sure beats food out of a can, huh?” The man looked over to see Yellow Stone with a smile on his face. “We’ve met plenty of wandering types on our trips. They all have the same look when we invite them over to sample my wife’s outstanding cooking.”

A faint blush touched Lavender’s grey cheeks, and she shied away, a smile on her face, “Oh, it’s just a soup, dear, nothing crazy special.”

“It’s still an amazing soup, you’ve got quite the talent for cooking.” The man stated, sipping the soup again with a contentful sigh.

Lavender got her blush under control, and looked up to the man, “Well, I sure would hope so, Mr. P. It’s my special talent after all.”

The man could only nod, his attention now fully on the soup. The others also tended to their own meals, and the sounds of the early night filled the air: the chirping of crickets, the buzz of nocturnal bugs, the distant call of a bird, and the crackle of the fire. All was peaceful. It was a feeling the man rarely felt, complete and utter security and peace of mind, for but a moment.

“Say, Peddler…” The man looked up from his bowl and saw Yellow Stone taking more soup from the pot, “You say you sell goods right?”

The man simply nodded in response.

Yellow Stone returned to his seat, “Would you happen to be travelling to Los Pegasus?”

“I’ve had my sights on it for a few days.”

“For the festival right?”

“Yep.”

Yellow Stone smiled, “Same as us, along with most of the ponies in this caravan.” He sipped his soup, a fingerless hoof holding the bowl and spoon, a phenomenon that boggled the man’s mind since his first days here, but as with many things, it’s usually summed up to magic, “Personally, we’re hoping to sell off some of our gemstones, maybe get a couple of contracts for stone and rock, well with all the ground construction going on out there.”

This time Lavender spoke up, a smile between her little fangs, “Yes, and I’m hoping to get some new, exotic spices for my dishes, there always seems to be more and more on the market every year in Hoofington. So I can’t imagine what kinds there will be at this festival. It’s so exciting!”

“And what about you?” Yellow Stone questioned the man, “What are you hoping to do there?”

The man lowered his bowl, he’d been sipping the remnants from it during their talk, “Hoping to just sell some wares, maybe get a few unique pieces if I can.” There was a pause, and then he continued after a moment, “I’m going to be honest, I’m not so sure what’s so special about this festival. Other than that it only comes around every couple years.”

Yellow Stone smiled, “Well, it’s more of a pegasi tradition, something about fertility and growth and all that. Sounds more like an earth pony thing, I know.” He chuckled, “But the festivities are always worth attending, if you can make the trip. Just seeing the shows makes it worthwhile!”

The man nodded, and sipped his soup again, “I’ve never been.” He stated simply, “Though you’re making it sound more exciting by the minute.” He smiled.

The stallion returned it in full, and went on for seconds. The man gazed at Lavender, and then the pot, as if asking silent permission to get a refill himself. She was perfectly fine with it, and he was grateful. They ate in silence until everyone had their fill, and once the bowls and utensils were collected and carried away by Lavender and her son, the man stood up and brushed himself off.

“Thank you all kindly for the meal, it was simply amazing.” Said Peddler, taking up his stick and hat once more, “But I do have to be going back now, I left my fire going, as well as my pack.”

Yellow Stone smiled, having been left alone by Lavender and Crystal Night, who was likely (and hopefully by the man’s standards) to bed by now, “Hey, don’t be a stranger. Come by again in the morning and share some breakfast with us, I’m sure my friends would love to meet you!”

The man nodded in thanks, “We’ll see.” He said simply, and then turned to leave.

“You know…” Yellow Stone started, “You don’t have to travel alone, you could join up with our caravan here. We’ve got plenty of ponies to help pull the wagons, and plenty of food and water for our trek through the desert.” The man turned to face the stallion once more, “I don’t know how much stuff you can carry in that big bright bag of yours, but it doesn’t seem like much, and San Palomino is not a kind place, especially once you cross out of the plains.”

The man didn’t know much about the San Palomino desert, all he knew was that it was one of the largest deserts within Equestrian territory, and considering his past experiences with deserts, he was very willing to consider breaking off back north rather than enter that cursed biome. But, this festival had piqued his interest, and he was still quite determined to try and make even the last few days of it there. Though, even if he felt he had enough food and water, there was always the chance of something bad happening in a place like that, especially when it came to water.

But these ponies most definitely had plenty of supplies, not to mention coverage from the blazing sun, something very important in a place like that. He had his hat, and a scarf for cold and snowy days, but those were the epitome of his shade and ways to keep his head cool without wasting water or overheating. It would be a very smart idea to travel with these ponies.

“I wouldn’t want to slow you all down.” He heard himself say.

Yellow Stone waved a hoof, “Nonsense! You make great strides with those long legs of yours!” Why did he try to deny them? “Besides, you can always ride in our wagon, if you get tired.”

The man stood there for a long moment, thinking on the stallion’s offer. It was a good and genuine one, and the man didn’t know why he had considered turning it down at all, there seemed to just be a strange sinking feeling in his gut, but he managed to repress it just enough to mutter a response, “Alright.” He said simply.

Yellow Stone beamed, “You won’t regret it, Peddler.” Then the stallion stood up and held out his hoof, and the man knew what it was. Clenching his fist, he bumped Yellow Stone’s hoof, “Remember about breakfast, we’re having beans and toast tomorrow!”

“Can’t wait.” Peddler responded, and turned to leave again, this time Yellow Stone let him go without any interruption. Making his way through the darkness, he saw the dim light of his campfire a mile off. Entering the clearing, the log was a smouldering black, it’s fire barely flickering in the black of night, and his gaze fell upon his pack, which was laid out still, undisturbed. He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and sat on the cold ground and rubbed his face.

He thought back on Yellow Stone’s words, and that sinking feeling returned. Was it distrust? No, the man knew there weren’t any lies spoken around that fire, no treachery in the stallion’s voice. Maybe it was Lavender? He was not afraid to admit that the bat pony piqued his interests, considering the rarity of her kind. Perhaps, if he were to be honest but never willing to admit, it was the prospect of seeing the same face for more than a day or two, truly socializing with them. Being more than just a humble face selling humble wares, interacting and getting to know them, that scared him the most.

What was he to do…It had been such a long time since he had really known anyone.

Author's Note

Back at it again.

For those of you interested on my status, and why this chapter took so long, check out this blog here.

Otherwise, let me hear your feedback, be it good, bad, or ugly!