Pinkie's Guide to Greater Equestria

by GrangeDisplay

Rating: teen
Tags: Cranky Doodle Donkey, Violence, Death, Alternate Universe, Drama, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, My Little Pony Comic, Other, Adventure, Pinkie Pie
Length: 31109

When Pinkie and Cranky meet much earlier than they're supposed to, their lives get a little more eventful than expected.

When Pinkie left her family's rock farm, she had a simple plan to follow to ensure a safe journey.

Too bad she's not the best at following instructions.

When her simple journey takes a few unexpected turns, and she finds herself entangled in a complicated conflict, Pinkie must navigate unfamiliar experiences to survive. Luckily, her new best friend, Cranky Doodle, is (reluctantly) by her side.

Follow Pinkie and Cranky as they travel Equestria and learn more about themselves and the world around them.

Published 2023-08-24 15:40:00 UTC
Last updated 2023-09-01 17:46:52 UTC

Prologue: Adult Fear

The following is an account of events as it could have happened.

This is a story born of a split-second decision that reverberates throughout the lives of many. Perhaps it is bold to say that this ‘shift’ could cause such catastrophic change. Especially when choices tend to accumulate, supersede, and beget each other. After a certain point, things get so entangled that it is difficult to cite which choice was truly the most monumental.

But this is one of the downfalls of a limited point of view, the inability to know all of the choices that preceded yours and all those that follow. The best anyone can do is pick their preferred path and do their best.

The history leading to this choice, as it has happened, is well known. The leaders of the three pony tribes choose to set aside their differences, creating the unified nation of Equestria. The survivors of the Windigoes' winter dispersed throughout the young nation, developing into unique communities and cultures. The Bearers of the Sun and Moon ascend the throne through ill-explored means.

Fast forward a great sum of time when a pegasus foal is bullied at Flight camp. The sky briefly erupts in an explosive array of colors, and several fillies discover their purpose. One of these foals finds herself radically displaced from her peers, so much so that her family decides to set her free.

And so, now Cloudy Quartz lays awake in her bed on a cool summer night on the eve of her daughter's departure.

She too, like all things, is the product of choices. The descendant of those who survived the long winter and inheritor of the way of the Plain. To be Plain is to be ascribed to a lifestyle as flat, austere, and gray as the lands they tended. A legacy shared by those who lived in the southwestern regions of Equestria just above the treacherous Arimasti Territory and next to the arid San Palomino desert.

Cloudy knew that it was ill-advised to stay up, especially when the day brought on so much work, but she could not ease her restlessness. By the sound of it, nopony could. She never thought she would miss the noise of snoring, but it gave the house a strange late-night heartbeat that would be much more irritating if it were not so familiar and comforting.

Now, as everypony lay awake, the house was disturbingly quiet. Cloudy’s covers rustled as she turned over in her bed and stared into the endless darkness of her room. The fragile silence within the house was utterly suffocating as she grappled with every worst-case scenario that her astute mind could imagine.

On any other night, she would march into her daughters’ room ready to scold and coerce them back to sleep. But on this night, she didn’t have the heart to do it. By morning, they would all be facing a great change. Cloudy huffed and turned over again onto her side as her stomach churned at the thought.

In the silence, she heard the tell-tale creaking of Igneous Pie’s bed as he arose slowly and carefully. It was apparent that he was trying to minimize the noise of his late-night departure, yet he still took the time to meticulously find his black hat before leaving.

Cloudy readjusted to lay on her back. She listened to his hoofsteps grow fainter as he went downstairs. She propped her head on her pillow and weighed her options. It was against her better judgment to leave her children alone in the house late at night, but she could definitely benefit from a few minutes of fresh air.

Following Igneous’ example, she navigated her way outside vigilantly, only taking a moment to retrieve her glasses. Her muscles flinched as she felt the cool breeze of the summer’s night air.

She immediately spotted her husband when she noticed sparks of light bursting from the huddled mass not far from the house. Igneous didn’t seem too surprised when she placed a hoof on his shoulder and whispered amicably.

“I think it ill-advised to engage in such activities close to the homestead, lest our daughters realize that we art less than perfect.”

The moonlight allowed her to see Igneous’ unconcerned expression as he turned to face her. In his hooves, he held a fire striker, while a full bent tobacco pipe hung loosely in his mouth. He wordlessly rose to his hooves before they relocated further from their home. Igneous sighed as he returned to trying to light his pipe.

“They art of the age to know the truth, Cloudy, plenty of folk smoke around town,” he muttered around the pipe.

“Perhaps. However, none of those folk art their parents. I have lectured them on the dangers of this vice for years.”

Igneous dutifully continued his work, creating a clicking sound each time the items in his hooves met.

“One could indulge in worse vices. Gambling, drinking, or…” The ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Igneous' muzzle, “maternal hypocrisy.”

Cloudy scoffed and rolled her eyes. “It is a nasty habit. Enough dust enters our lungs during our work, why invite more in? They do not have any troubles to cope with; they should never even consider starting. ‘Tis equally as dangerous as gambling, drinking, or being smart with thy wife.”

The fruitless clacking of the twisted steel on flint continued until Igneous gave up with a grunt, he offered the tools to Cloudy.

“Care to give it a try, Cloudy?”

Cloudy accepted them gingerly, giving them a quick study to ensure nothing was defective. She gave the flint a few strikes, feeling the heated sparks tickle at her hooves. She opted to change the angle and speed while gesturing for Igneous to come closer.

“I will not deny that there is merit in indulging in vices here and there, even if it offers a momentary reprieve from the burdens of this life.”

Igneous hummed in agreement, shifting his head closer to Cloudy as he cupped the pipe with his hoof to usher a few stray sparks in.

“Hold it steady,” he instructed. “I will pull the flame in.”

Smoke filled the air as Igneous puffed steadily, then used a small stone to tamp the tobacco down. Cloudy watched patiently as her husband meticulously prepped the pipe, before silently offering it to her. As soon as she could feel the hot smoke tickling her nostrils, she heard the somber sound of Igneous’ voice.

“Their sister is leaving,” he stated listlessly. Cloudy looked at him curiously, prompting him to continue his thought. “Thou said they had no troubles to cope with, but they do. Pinkamena is leaving, and I do not know how they…how we will function without her.”

All the warmth provided by the pipe seemed to seep away as the weight of reality came crashing down once again. Cloudy shivered and studied the constellations above. Smoke escaped her mouth as she considered his words carefully. After a moment to collect her thoughts, she finally spoke.

“‘Twas…inevitable. One of them was going to leave one day.”

Cloudy already knew what Igneous wanted to say. He tended to raise the same concerns every time they shared this conversation. She passed him the pipe and adjusted her glasses, not waiting for him to reply.

“It is in her best interest to leave this place. As a youth, ‘tis easier to readjust and assimilate,” she insisted, as she always did.

“I…I do fear that there is still much about this world that eludes her.”

“Of course. I am fully grown and there art still aspects of this world that elude me. As parents, we have taught her all we can,” Cloudy explained, trying to keep her tone sympathetic yet definitive.

An exchange of looks between the two revealed a rare breach in their usual stoicism, as they both tried to find comfort in Cloudy’s words. Igneous was the first to look away, gazing at the starry sky. He used one hoof to scratch his sideburns and the other to pass the pipe back to Cloudy.

“I understand… but our teaching could never prepare her for the real world. She hath lived among Plain Ponies her entire life. She only knows our ways and customs. The ponies beyond our land, the Equish, art completely different. They may see her naivety and take advantage of her.”

“Without a doubt, our daughter will struggle. Her innocence, though endearing, may lead to harsh life lessons. But, I assure thee our differences art surface level at best. She hath encountered no less ill behavior here among the Plain than she will among the Equish. Ponies art ponies no matter where they live or what they proclaim to believe in.”

Cloudy’s expression hardened as she stared at her husband, her brows furrowed, and her gaze remained unwavering despite the smoke that burned them.

“Thou art certain our daughter is prepared?” he asked sincerely.

“Aye, as I have insisted many times,” Cloudy confirmed with a puff of smoke.

Igneous’ eyebrows rose as he held his hoof for the pipe. “Does that explain thy recent compulsion to pray for half an hour every night?”

Cloudy huffed as she handed the pipe back to her husband. “Dear Igneous, I hope thee do not intend to imply something unsavory of my character. Is praying not what we Plain folk art called to do? Pray unto Providence for the sake of ourselves and our family. Is praying not what we have done for generations?”

“Aye… but it is not what Cloudy hath done for the few decades that I have known her,” Igneous answered with a smirk.

Cloudy scowled at him, but he kept a faint grin on his face. Many years of marriage taught Cloudy that Igneous only ever broke face at the most annoying times possible. If it were any other pony, she might have taken greater offense. But Igneous wasn’t any other pony, and he knew it.

She sighed. “Rest well knowing that Pinkamena will not go far. I have ensured that she will travel with a small caravan North to Ponyville first.”

Igneous gave her a skeptical look. “Thou believe she will stay there?”

“I know my child and all of her quirks. Pinkamena hath a proclivity for…tangentially following the rules, but she will find her way."

“And what of grander locations?” he asked.

“Our daughter is naive; she hath no reference for the grandness of Equestria. She will be satisfied upon arrival. Ponyville might as well be Manehattan or even Canterlot when compared to Rockville. The instructions art simple, meaning there is little room for error,” Cloudy explained, rolling her hoof for emphasis.

Igneous nodded his head solemnly before passing the pipe to his wife. He let the smoke rise into the atmosphere. “Understood, Pinkamena will learn and grow once she leaves. I have faith that she will find her way, ‘tis comforting to hear that thee feel the same, Cloudy…Cloudy?”

Igneous looked to his wife for confirmation, only to find her staring blankly into the distance. The occasional twitch of her eye was the only movement that she made. She wasn't even breathing, allowing the pipe to hang loosely in her jaw as the smoke filled the air. Her unblinking eyes glistened with years' worth of toil and hardship.

Igneous wrapped his hooves around her shoulders and gave her a firm shake, watching as the pipe bobbed out of her mouth and landed clumsily in her hooves. She broke her typical stoicism as she coughed and sputtered; Igneous gently removed the pipe from her hooves as she strained to catch her breath.

She held a hoof to her chest and spoke breathlessly, “Apologies, dear. Might thee repeat thy previous statement?”

Igneous gaped for a second but opted to follow Cloudy’s lead and ignored her peculiar behavior.

He spoke again with more intensity, “I said that I have faith that Pinkamena will find her way. She does seem excited, and thy confidence in her capability provides great comfort to me. Thou art the most competent mare I have ever met; I trust thy judgment.”

Cloudy nodded her head slowly, humbly taking in her husband’s kind words. “I do value thy trust Igneous. Thou may be uncertain of our daughter’s ability, but I know she is capable because she is equally as comprised of thee as she is of me. We must believe in her…because if we do not, then who will?”

“Aye,” Igneous agreed with a nod.

“Aye,” Cloudy confirmed with her own nod.

“She will be fine.”

“Of course.”

“...”

“...”

“The plan is too simple to fail.”

“Exactly, she will arrive in Ponyville safe and sound.”

“Certainly.”

“...Perhaps…we could pray to Providence one more time.”

“It… would not hurt to do so.”

Ch 1: Gifts and Goodbyes

It was overcast, the day that Pinkie left.

Which wasn’t too surprising since almost every day on the rock farm was overseen by a gray and cloudy sky.

“As above, so below.”

Was something Granny Pie always said when she came around to visit. According to Granny, in Equish towns, the weather was controlled by pegasi who ensured that cloudy days were few and far between. Almost all members of the Plain were earthponies, so they were out of luck. Not that they would want to change the sky if they could, it was a part of Providence after all.

But Pinkie still liked cloudless days.

The clearest sky that Pinkie had ever seen was the day she saw the rainbow. An explosion of light that spread color across the sky. It revealed the bluest sky, the yellowest sun, and the pinkest Pinkie that Pinkamena had ever seen. The vibrance from above was replicated by what was below it.

That was a good day for Pinkie, unlike today. Where the difference between good and bad was harder to discern. On this day, the sky was the same as it always was, devoid of light and color. And everything below it followed suit.

To the untrained eye, it would appear that the members of the Pie family conducted themselves normally. But to Pinkie, it was obvious that everything was off.

“Do you have your compass?” Maud asked for what must have been the fifteenth time.

They were sitting in their living room waiting for Pinkie’s departure time. Pinkie sighed and riffled through her blue-gray saddlebags. Despite their small size, Pinkie had stuffed just about everything she had into them. Another family might have asked how the bag could hold so much, but the Pies had long since grown past such trivial questions.

She showed Maud the heavily rusted but still functional compass. Maud blinked a few times before rechecking Pinkie’s packing list.

“How about your maps? And the encyclopedia, Ma’s guide on medicine, and the hat Nana made you?”

By the time Pinkie had relocated her bit pouch, toothbrush, and dandelions for the twenty-seventh time, Marble had found her again. Her little sister quickly hugged her from behind, burying her face into Pinkie’s coat.

Don’t be mistaken, Pinkie adored her little sister, but over the last few days, Marble had maintained a tight grip on Pinkie that rarely went away. It was a little painful, and sometimes it made it hard to maneuver properly, but it was wonderful nonetheless.

“Hey, Mar-mar? Could you move your hoof a bit? I need to show Maud my calendar,” Pinkie requested, trying to loosen one of her hooves.

Pinkie felt a tickle on her back as Marble mumbled a response before marginally loosening her grip. Pinkie returned to her work of dutifully sifting through her saddlebags when Limestone sauntered over. The eldest Pie mockingly gagged at the sight of the twins hugging.

“Just a reminder, don’t wear yourselves out by being too emotional. Now that Pinkie’s leaving, we have to work even harder to complete our commission. We will not fall behind,” Limestone lectured gruffly.

The arrival of Limestone added to the peculiar ‘off-ness’ that all her sisters had shown over the last week or so. They were just like themselves, but even more so. Maud was being extra precocious, Marble was being extra affectionate, and Limestone was being extra, well, Limestony.

Limestone took her responsibility of being the eldest very seriously. She could be high-strung, a trait worsened by two major changes. The first being Pinkie’s departure, and the second being the sudden demand for stones, metals, and minerals. Pinkie was told that the Equestrian railroad was undergoing expansion and that the Plain communities’ materials were integral to its construction.

All farms played their part in completing the commission, which inadvertently turned Limestone from stern to an adolescent tyrant. All in all, their mother had proposed that Limestone’s behavior was rooted in worry more than anything.

Per usual, Maud was the one that handled things. She didn’t try to hide her sarcasm. “Thanks. We appreciate you coming here to tell us what we already knew.”

The older Pies exchanged icy glares, an occurrence that had been happening more frequently since they had gotten older. Eventually, Limestone scoffed and turned her attention to Pinkie.

“And you, make sure to watch your back out there. Hammer Mill said his cousin never returned from his journey to greater Equestria. He was foalnapped by a band of vapid soul-sucking monsters.”

One look into the intensity of Limestone’s eyes told Pinkie she wasn’t joking. The pink filly shivered at the thought. Limestone had been making a lot of comments like that over the past few days. Little ‘facts’ about the Equish, like how they sacrificed ponies for sneezing too loud and ate stray foals with butter because it was “more savory than with margarine.”

While Pinkie frequently found herself unnerved by Limestone’s warnings, Maud wasn’t so convinced. She gently placed her hoof on Pinke’s shoulder.

“Hammer Mill’s cousin went to Manehattan where he works as a stockbroker. Speaking of which, do you have your abacus?” Maud said simply, ignoring the nasty stare Limestone gave her.

Pinkie had no idea what a stockbroker was, but she was happy to hear that Limestone's comment was largely exaggerated. Sometimes other foals teased her and said she was gullible, but she liked to think that believing in other ponies was always worth it.

The beads of Pinkie’s abacus rattled as she presented it to Maud, while Limestone rolled her eyes and grumbled to herself. As Pinkie tucked the abacus back between her sundial and sewing kit she hoped that they finished checking and rechecking. Unfortunately, Maud wasn’t the only one fretting over Pinkie’s belongings.

“What about paper? ‘Tis best to have paper on hoof to not worry about procuring more.” questioned the much deeper voice of Igneous Pie.

Despite knowing that she had it, Pinkie quickly found it for her father’s sake. Over the past few weeks, her mother had bombarded her with hundreds of rules to follow, while her father only gave her one.

“Make sure to write,” Igneous reminded as Pinkie showed him the stack of paper she had packed away.

“I will pa, promise!” Pinkie assured, attempting to alleviate the poorly hidden worry on Igneous’ face.

Igneous offered Pinkie the best smile he could, even if it didn't reach his eyes. Pinkie knew that her father was the more reluctant parent when it came to letting her leave home. He had always been so adamant that their family stick together, so when he told her to go, it genuinely surprised her.

It also hurt.

Pinkie knew she was different. It was easy to notice, and plenty of ponies reminded her if she had somehow forgotten. Despite her best efforts to blend in, she often found herself on the outside.

Her parents insisted it was for the best, and she chose to believe them. Even if they were probably just trying to get rid of her, she couldn’t deny her fascination with the world around her. She struggled to reconcile these feelings to herself, but her mother was highly component at persuasion.

“Pinkamena? I have thy quilt,” Cloudy said, entering the room with the aforementioned item.

She unfurled the quilt, allowing all in the room to marvel at its intricate geometric pattern sewn in dull pinks, purples, and grays. Looking at it brought a smile back to Pinkie’s face.

Like all her siblings, Pinkie had had her quilt since she was born. Over the years, it had grown bigger alongside her as Cloudy expanded it with each milestone and growth spurt.

“I made a few adjustments,” Cloudy explained, “Thou will grow, as thou have seen thine older sisters do. In time it will fit thee again. Thou art approaching the age where thy body will start changing in various ways.”

A chorus of groans sounded throughout the room, but Cloudy stood firm in her statement. The older Pie children had changed a lot in a short period, and even Maud had been arguing and glaring a lot more. It was strange to think that Pinkie might do the same. Pinkie hugged her mother and accepted the quilt.

“Bleh, I don’t wanna do that,” Pinkie whispered to her mother. “Their legs are all spindly, and they got kinda mean. I won’t do that, I promise.”

Cloudy looked at her daughter fondly, savoring the sweet face she wouldn’t recognize in a few moons. “I fear that is a promise not easily kept. Allow thyself the room to change. If thou do right by others, it will come as a blessing.”

For a brief moment, everything felt normal again. Pinkie felt at peace standing in the house she was born in, where she had spoken her first words and taken her first steps. She was surrounded by her family, whom she had spent almost every day living with and loving. She had everything she needed in that room, and not because she had packed everything she had into two small saddlebags.

She had her family and the warmth they provided simply by existing. It was good, her life as it was, was good.

But then they heard a squeaking outside that stole all of Pinkie’s warmth.

From the window, they could see somepony coming up on the property, and they rushed to greet him. Pinkie came outside to see the barren landscape, an overcast sky, and an incredibly old stallion.

Ponies around town called him Mr. Mine Hutch, he was an olive-green stallion with a massive frame and saggy skin. Pinkie and her siblings believed he was older than dirt. He often wheezed along with the wheels of his rusted cart, guiding fillies and colts on their journeys to greater Equestria in his spare time.

“I hope my early arrival is not a nuisance,” Mr. Mine Hutch huffed while wiping his milky-blue eyes.

“Not at all, Mr. Hutch. Punctuality is a quality that all should aspire to possess. Thine arrival will give Pinkamena plenty of time to join the caravan,” Cloudy stated.

Mr. Hutch nodded a few times and studied the family. “To be an aspiration to anypony is certainly an honor. Speaking of which, is the little one over there the traveler of the day?”

Marble Pie grew flustered when Mine Hutch pointed a sore hoof in her direction, she scrambled to find cover behind Limestone. The older sister remained impassive as her little sister trembled behind her.

“No sir, this is Marble,” Limestone corrected, placing a hoof on her youngest sibling. “You’re looking for the pink one over there.”

Pinkie’s eyes widened in bewilderment, but not because she was flustered. The pink foal's face began to contort in discomfort.

“Ah…” Pinkie sputtered and stepped back, “ah…ah..AH… *ACHOO*!”

Pinkie sneezed with power, kicking up dust as she launched herself backward. Cloudy sighed as the filly rolled for several seconds.

Eventually, Pinkie was able to reorient herself. She sat up and shook her head furiously, hoping her face wasn’t too dirty. It was her goal that she get through at least a quarter of the day without making a mess of herself.

She wiped her face a few times and greeted the old stallion politely. “G-good morning Mr. Mine Hutch. For thy guidance with my passage, I am infinitely grateful. May Providence take us far.”

“Indeed, and gesundheit, little one,” Hutch muttered with a squint, training his ghostly pupils on the correct foal. “Apologies for the mistaken identity. Neither colors nor sight art my strong suits. I simply move stones where my sister tells me.”

“A sibling that knows how to listen and do what they're told? Imagine that,” Limestone sneered just loud enough for Maud to hear.

“I imagine that having a sibling that speaks coherently and intelligently elicits compliance, although that is only in my imagination,” Maud replied.

Limestone scowled at her sister again, and hissed out, “Hey, listen here yo-”

“This is not the time to squabble. I believe thee both have a much more important contribution to today’s affair,” Cloudy snapped, prompting her daughters to focus and step forward.

The pair begrudgingly moved together, leaving Pinkie somewhat flabbergasted and a little scared. She watched cautiously as Maud retrieved a small bag of bits and presented it to her.

“Pinkie,” Maud started, “we got you a going away present to help you on your journey. It's not a lot, but every bit counts when building a life away from here. I’ll miss you, but I’ll be rooting for you every step of the way.”

“You are leaving, and I guess that is very sad,” Limestone muttered with more sincerity than she intended. "So, we got you this. We went from home-to-home offering to help other farms with their commissions. I thought it would be more beneficial than a necklace made out of rock candy. It's not a big deal.”

Pinkie slowly accepted the bits, unsure of what to say. Having money to spare wasn’t common in the Pie household, so to have it and then give it away freely was an extraordinary gesture. It was a big deal, and everypony knew it. Pinkie leapt up and pulled her sisters into a crushing hug.

As they hugged, Pinkie could hear her father speaking in the background.

“Go ahead, Marble,” Igneous encouraged, directing Pinkie’s attention to their youngest sister.

Marble spent a few moments fidgeting before offering Pinkie yet another pouch. When Pinkie looked inside, she found dozens of delicately crafted teal marbles.

“Marble’s marbles,” Pinkie whispered in awe, studying the orbs’ semi-transparent centers.

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes as she examined each marble, eliciting a prideful blush from her younger sister.

“‘Twas thy sister’s idea. I taught her how to work with feldspar and glass. Then she applied it and spent weeks perfecting her technique,” Igneous explained, brimming with pride.

Pinkie wiped her eyes and wrapped Marble in a tight hug. “I love them. And I love you. Thank you, Marble.”

Pinkie took a moment to savor the embrace before remembering her own gift. She hesitantly released Marble from her grip and looked around.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, “I also have a parting gift for you girls.”

Out of thin air, she pulled out a bundle of discolored and poorly sewn fabric. The three Pie siblings looked at it in deep confusion, a stark contrast to Pinkie’s beaming smile.

“It’s…” Limestone muttered, cocking her head slightly.

“Uh…” Maud attempted before realizing she didn’t have a clue either.

“Rug!” Pinkie shouted, unfolding the ‘rug’ to show it off.

Despite providing plenty of enthusiasm, Pinkie only received blank stares in return. It wasn't the reaction she hoped for, perhaps they needed a little bit of context.

“You know,” Pinkie said, trying to stay confident, “to replace the one I had a tinsy-winsy spill on? Now your hoovsies won’t be so cold when you get out of bed in the morning.”

A rug? Was all that everypony, outside of Pinkie, was thinking. The “rug” was ugly, covered in patches of shoddy work, and incomprehensible as any usable item. The three Pie siblings exchanged looks of skepticism. It was true that they no longer had a rug in their room due to Pinkie breaking the ‘no food outside of the dining room’ rule, but was this the solution?

Limestone grimaced at the horrendous item. It’s abhorrent color scheme and messy and uncoordinated craftsmanship. It would be a garish splotch of color in an otherwise colorless room. It would stick out like a sore-hoof just like the pony who wrought it onto this earth.

Limestone warily took the “rug”, holding it at a distance as if it might attack her. “This…is poorly made. But it will do for now.”

The nervousness Pinkie felt immediately melted away at her older sister’s response. It was rare for Limestone to speak so highly of anything Pinkie did. She squealed and hopped around before scooping all of her sisters into a hug.

After a few moments, Limestone broke the hug, pulled Pinkie close, and gave her an intense stare. Her face seemed to shift through multiple expressions as she considered what to say.

Eventually, she spoke, saying, “Listen… I won’t be with you to protect you, so you’re going to have to toughen up. As my sister and as a Pie, it is your job to carry yourself with dignity and strength. If those outsiders treat you like trash, don’t be afraid to show them why us Pies are tougher than stone.”

Limestone pressed her hoof into Pinkie’s chest with enough force to cause her to stumble backward. “Tougher. Than. Stone,” She repeated fiercely.

Pinkie’s ears folded in uncertainty as she floundered slightly. Not due to the pain from the push, but the queasy feeling it generated. She held a hoof to her chest, patting where Limestone’s hoof had impacted.

“Owie,” Pinkie whimpered and pouted, “Stones are super duper tough Limestone.”

Any attempts at a reply were disrupted by the other two Pie children. Maud placed a comforting hoof on Pinkie’s shoulder while Marble embraced her.

“They are, but you don’t have to be like them, Pinkie. If anypony gives you trouble, I’ll take care of it,” Maud affirmed with a confident nod.

If Limestone was trying to hide her irritation, she was doing a poor job of it. She rolled her eyes. “And how do you plan to do that if you’re here and she’s all the way out there in Manehattan or something.”

Pinkie looked directly into Maud’s eyes as Maud squeezed her shoulder. “Family finds a way. Always.”

Pinkie smiled at Maud’s assuring words. She made a point to return Marble’s hug, pulling her little sister close. “‘Always,’” she repeated as she nuzzled the side of Marble’s face.

Although summer days are the longest, time slips by as quickly as ever. Cloudy watched her daughters converse among themselves as a unit one last time, then broke them apart.

“Pinkamena? ‘Tis time to begin thy journey. Thou know what to do,” Cloudy explained gently.

“Yes,” Pinkie answered with a nod, “Travel to Gravel Gate with Mr. Mine Hutch, pair up with Gentle Smithing Caravan, then walk to Ponyville. Be polite, be careful, and ask for help. Oh! And never, ever, ever, ever go to Los Pegasus.”

It was rare for Pinkie to take something so seriously, but she was committed to this. She wanted it to work, it had to work. It hurt to leave home, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t excited. There was a whole world out there, one she knew so little about.

She looked around with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation before trotting to join Mine Hutch. At times like this, Pinkie recalled the lessons of her Granny. When afraid, it was better to laugh in the face of danger than freeze and cower. She did her best to smile as her mother reminded her of one last thing.

Cloudy lowered herself to Pinkie’s level and spoke softly, “And remember, that thou art belov’d. There is always a home here for thee. And seriously, do not go to Los Pegasus.”

“R-right,” Pinkie murmured.

Cloudy’s tone was grave but sincere. Pinkie caught another glimpse of the sadness welling in her mother‘s eyes and rushed to give her a final hug. The feeling of Cloudy’s tight embrace quickly quadrupled as the remaining Pies joined in.

When the hug finally ended, Pinkie gave them all one last look, before taking her first steps in pursuit of the outside world. Her family stood by like statues as she shrank into a tiny pink dot on the vast horizon.

Once she was gone for certain, Limestone turned to Maud with a frown.

“You could have done more to keep her here, you know,” she complained, kicking at the dirt.

Maud blinked a few times as she comforted Marble. “I did. I just did it in the right way. Being mean won’t get her to come home.”

“And you think giving her a bunch of sappy gifts will?”

“I do. She’ll take one look at Marble’s marbles and be back by the end of the week.”

Ch 2: Two Roads

Pinkie didn’t know why, but she always expected that there would be more outside of Rockville. She didn't exactly know what, but all she knew at this moment was that she was impeccably bored.

She smushed her face against the paneling of Mine Hutch’s cart as it rattled along the uneven terrain. She would have preferred to walk, but Mine Hutch had insisted that she rest while she could. This left her with even less to occupy her excitable mind as the world flattened into a vast expanse of desolate grays and earth tones.

All she heard was the wheels' squeaking until Mine Hutch abruptly broke the silence. “Well, Maud, what work will thee pursue in the outside world?”

Pinkie perked up, surmounting the pile of stone in Hutch’s cart to get as close to him as possible. She recognized that he had used the wrong name, but it wasn’t a new occurrence. She hummed as she thought it over.

“I’m Pinkie, and I’m not sure,” she admitted reluctantly. “All I know is that I’m going to Ponyville first.”

Hutch took a moment to trudge along further before surprising Pinkie with his answer. “‘Tis a fair plan for a young pony. Time is on thy side. Thy calling may aid thy decision.”

“Well, my cutiemark is three balloons. I got it after throwing my family a party! I realized that making other ponies happy makes me happy. So, I guess I’m called to make ponies happy. I just have to figure out the best way to do that,” Pinkie said with dwindling energy.

“Thine options are many. Happiness arises from various sources. What of thy skills?”

“Well…” Pinkie started, rubbing the back of her head in contemplation, “I can read music and sing! Ooh, ooh, I know lots about folktales. A-and I can uh… I can make rock candy! Just don’t ask me about actual rocks b-because…because I’m not too good with those.”

The plague of listlessness was starting to smother Pinkie again, but she shook it away, focusing on the conversation at hoof.

“Does any of that sound useful?” Pinkie questioned. “Have you ever left the Plain Mr. Mine Hutch? Do the Equish like that type of stuff?”

“Aye, Marble. Moons ago, when I was a kind such as yourself. Bright of eye and full of life. I looked unto the Equish and found a multitude of discordant layers. ‘Twas nay impossible to find one’s part within the fray,” Hutch explained with unusual airiness.

“I’m Pinkie, and what do you mean by, ‘layers?’”

“I mean hochmut.” Hutch spat. “Pride. They were too proud! Even the Equish earthponies saw themselves as above or below their peers, never as a part. Thou understand the importance of being a part.”

Pinkie understood, as all good Plain ponies did, what Hutch was talking about. She recognized the old Ponyslvanian Dutch word, hochmut, from the trillions of times it was discussed in congregation and brought up by her parents.

It was arrogance, flashiness, an over the top self-importance that disrupted the balance of nature itself. To pride oneself over others was to pride oneself over nature. And to pride oneself over nature was to pride oneself over Providence.

The Plain don’t believe in or worship a central divine entity but the inherent interconnectivity of nature. To them, all things, whether they be ponies or stones, were a part of the same whole. To honor that system, and to consequently honor oneself, one must live in harmony with all things.

The idea of a society filled with ponies reveling in their arrogance frightened Pinkie more than any exaggerated story Limestone had told her. It was the antithesis of virtually everything she was taught to value.

Sensing Pinkie’s impending dread, Mine Hutch offered a remedy. He stopped the cart and unhitched himself. Pinkie watched him curiously as he dug through his cargo and apprehended a tattered book. She took it from him, ignoring its pungent smell and frail yellowed pages.

“A Foal’s Guide to Greater Equestria?” Pinkie murmured, reading the faded lettering on its front.

“‘Twas mine, and now ‘tis thine. May thee find some wisdom in it,” Hutch explained, helping Pinkie out of the cart.

Pinkie studied it. It wasn’t like she needed another guidebook, especially after her mother took the time to write various pamphlets for her on multiple topics, from simple herbal remedies to properly negotiating business deals.

All bases were covered, yet the old guidebook still called to her. Like the old tome of scriptures that collected dust atop her family’s mantel, Hutch’s book clearly possessed some archaic wisdom.

She was thoroughly enchanted by its old-fashioned charm and accepted it. The book was thick and filled with long descriptions in antiquated language, even by Plain standards. There were a few maps and an “Equish to Plain” dictionary for key phrases in the back.

But the best part was the illustrations. Each description came with a caricature of its subject. Pinkie studied a few of them before Hutch drew her attention once more.

The ground around her was composed of an assortment of stone fragments. There was a construction of stones forming a rickety archway; it was most likely the titular Gravel Gate. Pinkie checked her sundial and found that they were earlier than expected. She sat down on her haunches, choosing to read to pass the time.

Mine Hutch stuck around for a while, unloading the stones in his cart into a neat pile.

When he finished, he wiped his forehead and wheezed out, “The cargo is paid for, somepony in the Gentle Smithing Caravan shall come to collect it. Might thee watch over it in the meantime while thee wait?”

Pinkie didn’t respond right away, mainly because she was barely listening. Eventually, she turned a page in the guide and nodded slowly. Seeing that his shipment was in good hooves, he parted from Pinkie with one final farewell.

“Take care young Limestone. May thy life be enlightened by thy path, and may thy path be aligned with Providence.”

The squeaking began once more as Mine Hutch shuffled away. Pinkie, who was completely ensnared by her book, managed a paltry wave goodbye.

“Thank you, sir, you too. Goodbye,” she mumbled to nopony in particular after some time.

The outer world seemed to fade away as she read on. Most wouldn’t consider Pinkie an avid reader since she tended to be distractible, but A Foal’s Guide to Greater Equestria felt different. It piqued her natural curiosity about the world and the many creatures that inhabited it.

She grew more excited with each page as she read about donkeys, buffalos, and batponies. Although she had seen a few of these creatures in passing already, from faded pages she could make out accounts of more fantastical creatures like zebras or dragons or yaks.

She imagined what they might like. What made them happy and why. If she were to throw a party for them, what would they want? In her isolation, all she could do was think, and as she thought on and on, the sun floated along its path.

Time passed, and the breeze picked up. The guide’s pages, which were barely held together by its loosened seams, flipped and flickered in the wind. Within the blink of an eye, a mighty gust of wind came, detaching several pages from the dilapidated book.

Pinkie gasped as she watched them sweep into the air and swirl around her. She slammed the book shut, collected her saddlebags, and sprinted to make the book whole again. Her vision tunneled as the chase started, her tiny hooves carrying her further and further from the gate.

The pursuit was like a game. She hopped and rolled and galloped to collect each piece. One page had a road map of Hollow Shades while another described Manehattan. There was even a heavily stained page on these tiny creatures called breezies, with an image of a small fairy-like pony.

Pinkie marveled at this one, wondering why nopony had told her about these creatures. She held the page up to the sun to get a better idea of what it said. It was then that she became acutely aware of how much time had passed. The sun wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

Or maybe, Pinkie wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

“Oh no,” Pinkie mumbled with a gulp, turning on her hooves to find herself far from Gravel Gate.

She hastened back, returning to the archway only to find the worst possible outcome. Nopony was nearby, and Mine Hutch’s cargo was gone. She looked outward and saw the faint outline of a large group walking. It was apparent that they weren’t getting any closer.

Pinkie watched them go, as her heart began to sink. Her journey had just started, and she had already messed up.

“You ruined it! How could you,” she bemoaned, holding her head in her hooves, “why do you alwa-”

“They’re not too far. You have time to catch up if you hurry,” reassured a voice that was as uneven as the gravel beneath Pinkie’s hooves.

A shadow loomed over Pinkie, and she looked up to find a canine-like creature, a diamond dog, towering over her. He stared down at her with translucent green eyes. He wore a tattered vest that was covered in dirt, presumably from the hole behind him that he recently burrowed out of.

Pinkie knew it was inadmissible to talk to strangers, and there were quite a few stories of diamond dogs stealing from the Plain. But Pinkie knew diamond dogs that were nothing like that.

More of them had arrived in her village to work on the larger farms since the railroad commission was issued. If this diamond dog was anything like the few she knew, then he could be trusted. Either way, her mother did tell her to ask for help.

“I’m supposed to travel with Gentle Smithing, do you know if that's them?” Pinkie questioned, pointing to the distance.

The diamond dog looked at her with a grimace and bit his lip. “Uh…I…uh maybe.”

Pinkie wasn’t too enthused by his answer, maybe she hadn’t missed the caravan. But then things weren’t adding up.

“Somepony in that caravan was supposed to take Mr. Mine Hutch’s cargo. But, if that caravan isn’t Gentle Smithing’s, then where did the cargo go?” Pinkie pondered aloud.

The diamond dog shrugged nervously. “Um…no idea kid.”

“If that is Gentle Smithing’s caravan, then I need to catch it! If not, then I have to go home,” Pinkie lamented. “But this is so strange! You and me are the only creatures for miles. What could hav-”

“Listen, kid,” the diamond dog interrupted hastily, “I got an idea.”

He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a bit. “If I flip heads, then you go with the caravan. I flip tails, you head home. Okay?”

He trained his eyes on Pinkie and waited for her to agree. She paced around in place, overcome by nervousness.

She thought it over. She was deeply uncertain if this was the right group, but the thought of going home so soon tore her up inside. She wished she could be decisive like Limestone, smart like Maud, or good at following instructions like Marble.

But she wasn’t, or she didn’t feel like she was. She was just Pinkie.

Just Pinkie, who was bad at making decisions because she wasn’t smart enough to end up in good circumstances, and she was never in good circumstances because she didn’t know how to pay attention. This was a hard decision, which made the coin an enticing alternative.

Upon the border of a bit, the timeline splits in two. It was fifty-fifty. Left to fate or probability or even Providence. Whatever happened would happen, and all that Pinkie had to do was follow along.

With a gulp, she made her choice and sealed one of her fates. “Okay, okay go ahead.”

The diamond dog manipulates the coin in his claws, positioning it for launch. Time slowed down as Pinkie watched with rapt attention. The coin took flight, soaring high. It glistened with each revolution until it came crashing down with an anticlimactic plop.

The pair crowded around it, and the diamond dog heralded the good news.

“Heads! It looks like you’ve got a great adventure on your hooves!”

Simple words for such a monumental shift; it is here that the story diverges from what it is to what it could have been. A different face prevails, an alternative route is taken, and a new adventure begins.

Pinkie blinked a few times, coming to terms with the outcome. She looked up at the diamond dog to see a toothy smile. It was an unusual grin, but she liked it. She let it infect her, allowing her enthusiasm to return.

She grabbed the diamond dog’s claw, shook it, and smiled at him fondly. “Oh! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I was so worried, but now you’ve helped me. Let’s be friends. My name is Pinkie, what’s yours?”

The diamond dog seemed taken aback by the gesture, his claw grew limp in Pinkie’s grip. “It's uh…um…G-gate… Gravel.”

“Gate Gravel?” Pinkie repeated.

“Um…yeah.”

“Cool! Nice to meet you, Mr. Gate Gravel!”

Gate Gravel scratched the back of his head. “Yeah…uh…likewise. You know that group of yours won’t wait up, you should go.”

Pinkie facehoofed and scrambled to gather herself. “You’re so right, silly me! This whole blunder will be my last! Thank you, Gravel Gate! May Providence be with thee, and thee with it. Equestria, here I come!”

With that, Pinkie began a determined gallop at an impressive speed. She left a cloud of dust and an incredibly uneasy diamond dog in her wake. Once she was out of earshot, another voice arose from Gate’s hole. It was another diamond dog.

“She’s gone. Let’s patch up this hole and get out of here.”

“D-do you think she saw us? I think she trusted me. Do you think she’ll be okay?”

Gate’s companion groaned at his questions. “Who cares! The brat is gone, nice work dummy, or should I say, 'Gate Gravel.' Sweet Celestia, I can’t believe she fell for that.”

Gate sighed to himself. He didn’t know why, but a part of him hoped that she was heading to the right caravan. He trudged to join his companion, taking one last look at the open world, he offered a final well-wishing.

“Good luck Pinkie, you’re gonna need it.”

Ch 3: Weirdos

By the time Pinkie had caught up to the caravan, the midday sun had already breached the clouds and asserted its dominance in the sky. The world baked away in the summer’s dry heat, with the occasional breeze kicking up small piles of dust.

To the average outsider, the atmosphere of this place might have been eerie or disturbing. But to Pinkie, it was the only world she had ever known. She marched along excitedly as the group navigated the rocky terrain, marveling at the freedom she was experiencing and the strange mix of emotions it brought about.

“On one hoof, I’m like very, very, very thrilled to see the whole wide world and all the different types of ponies. Oh, oh, and all the different types of parties! Oh, my cutiemark! See, look, it's three balloons because I throw parties and make ponies happy, or at least I think that’s what they mean. S-so, now I get to learn about the different parties that different types of ponies throw in the whole wide world!” Pinkie exclaimed with a hop, but as quickly as she perked up, she seemed to deflate.

“But then I think about my ma and pa and all my sisters…I’m going to miss them so, so, much. We live around these parts a-and I’ve never been apart from them. I just wish I could carry them around in my saddle bag and take them to see the whole world too! But I don’t think Limestone would like that too much, and ma would probably disapprove of how messy it is. Maud might like it though! But I don’t know, what do you think?”

Despite the plethora of words Pinkie had spoken into the normally hushed atmosphere, Rusted Peddler could not think of one word to utter in reply. Perhaps it was due to the sheer speed at which she spoke, the sheer volume, or the simple fact that he had no idea where this child had come from, but he was stumped.

It was rather unusual for an experienced salespony, such as Rusted Peddler, to be at a loss for words. But the last few days traversing the Southwestern territories had proven tedious, if not completely exhausting. He had hoped that he was tapping into an untapped market by selling to the folks in the area, but it became apparent that there was a reason why some places were left untouched.

The rock farmers proved to be untalkative and reluctant to change. When he traveled further West, he found the herders of the area to be more talkative but equally as reluctant. Ultimately, his journey south was a bust. All he had gained from his troubles were sore hooves, an empty wallet, and a terrible sunburn on his back.

And now, to make matters worse, some unattended kid was chatting his ear off and showing no signs of stopping. He grimaced and looked inward, hoping the filly would take the hint. But she just kept looking up at him with innocent and expectant eyes, sucking out the last remains of patience that he had.

He silently thanked Celestia when something or somepony ahead of him grabbed her attention, causing her to yelp in excitement and scamper away. He let out a sigh and continued trudging along absentmindedly until he heard something groaning beside him.

Rusted followed the noise, spotting an elderly donkey. Rusted knew that most of the donkeys in the area were herders, but something about this particular jack seemed different from the rest. The donkey appeared just as eager to leave this place as Rusted was, but his old age was causing him some difficulty.

Rusted watched him sympathetically before the donkey noticed, and the pair locked eyes. It was then that the old donkey shot one of the nastiest scowls the defeated salespony had ever seen. Rusted stopped dead in his tracks, allowing the donkey to gain some distance away from him.

Rusted looked up at the unforgiving sun, almost impressed by how this experience continued to make him miserable. He rolled his eyes and resolved to move forward, muttering as he did.

“I gotta get out of this place and away from these weirdos.”

After spending the majority of the long day traveling, the members of the Gentle Smithing Caravan were treated to a decadent display of stars patterning the expansive night sky. With the arrival of the night came a brief reprieve from the group’s walking. Campfires were built and folks settled down. Some pitched their lodgings while others exchanged goods, items, and stories.

All in all, there was a general sense of mirth accented with a buzz of anticipation as some members of the group eagerly awaited their next adventure. Some were returning home after long expeditions away, while others were enjoying a trip from their normal lives. Quite a few were simply about their business, fulfilling their destinies of traveling for various reasons. As for a few unfortunate members, there was no such joy or enchantment, leaving them with little desire to share or mingle.

One of these few is none other than Cranky Doodle Donkey, who made a point of isolating himself from the group. Well, most of the group that is, since somepony took it upon herself to join him without asking.

She sat on her haunches in plain view of Cranky, wrapped tightly in a quilt and silently staring at him. He wasn't sure if her sparkling eyes were reflecting the night sky or were simply capable of shimmering on their own, but he was thoroughly unnerved by it. He had seen, or more fittingly, heard her zipping throughout the caravan, annoying members with drawn-out barrages of words and intrusive questions.

During his travels, Cranky had learned the value of a good scowl, but even his best and nastiest failed to faze the young foal. She had set her sights on him, and now he was legitimately having to consider talking to her. He knew that kids were not always the best at picking up social cues, so maybe a miserable conversation would successfully ward her off permanently.

He reluctantly cleared his throat and dryly asked, “What do you want kid?”

The kid immediately perked up at the question, blinking rapidly and plastering a lopsided smile on her face. She spoke with the unassuming eagerness typical for a child, “Are you a donkey?”

Sweet Celestia, Cranky thought, having endured this line of questioning many times throughout his life. He weighed his options and answered sarcastically.

“I sure am kid, what gave it away?”

The foal placed a hoof on her chin and hummed as she thought it over. Cranky rolled his eyes while she contemplated, recalling all the typical answers to this particular question. Maybe she’ll mention how weirdly long my face is, or how freakishly big my ears are, or maybe how my tail looks like a cow's, he thought with a soured expression.

“Well, it was kinda easy,” the foal began, "you only have five lumbar vertebrae while most ponies have six!”

Her quilt hung loosely as the foal twisted around to show off her back and gestured to her spine with a hoof. Thoroughly caught off guard, Cranky found himself involuntarily looking at his own back quizzically.

“Wait…what?”

The foal giggled to herself before continuing, “Oh, and your face is kinda long! It’s just like my guidebook says! It also says that donkeys tend to be ‘stubborn, stoical, and simple.’”

“Right, right,” Cranky muttered, looking around the camp, “Where are your parents, kid?”

The child’s giggle died down, and her expression became somber. “Back at home.”

“They let you travel all alone?” Cranky questioned with a raised eyebrow.

The foal nodded and pulled her quilt back over herself. The covering looked carefully sewn. It was ornately covered in flawless geometric patterns in muted colors. If it were not clear to Cranky at first, it certainly was now. He had almost forgotten where he was and what group of ponies dominated this area.

“You must be Plain.”

“Wow! I am, how did you know!” the foal exclaimed, quick to return to her prior cheeriness. Cranky questioned how she was still so energetic after the long day.

Cranky scratched the side of his head. “The only ponies still crazy enough to let a kid as young as you venture around Equestria alone are ponies that still think they're living hundreds of moons in the past.”

“Hey!” The foal hollered in offense, she furrowed her brow, and asserted each word of defense with a nod, “My parents don’t think they are living hundreds of moons in the past. My pa even has a calendar that says we’re living very much in the present moon. And I’m not that young, just a bit small for my age, thank you!”

For the first time in the entire day, Cranky found himself somewhat amused. She had seemed a little annoyed by his comment, he continued the conversation with a casual tone and wry smile, “Right. Although I gotta say, you're nothing like any of the Plain ponies I’ve met.”

Something like sadness arose in the filly’s eyes as she absentmindedly played with her hooves. “Yeah, I’m a little…different from everypony else,” she mumbled, watching the ground closely.

Cranky held his breath, wondering if he had succeeded where so many others had failed. The kid was quiet for the first time since joining the group, overtaken by a pensive and heavy silence.

She sniffed and looked over her shoulder, taking in the illumination provided by a campfire not too far away. But almost as quickly as her sadness set in, it dissipated and was replaced by an insatiable curiosity.

“You’ve met other Plain ponies?”

“Of course,” Cranky answered, deeply disappointed by her immaculate emotional comeback.

“I've seen donkeys before. They come from San Palomino with their herds and pass by the village,” she explained excitedly, “So are you a herder, or a cowboy, or dare I say a buck-aroo?” The foal questioned, emphasizing the final (and most enjoyable to say) word.

“All of those words mean the same thing, but none of them apply to me,” Cranky explained with a bitter expression. He could tell that the foal had no intention of leaving any time soon, so he continued, “I guess you could call me a traveler. I did come from this region, but I don’t belong anywhere.”

The child studied him with a sappy doe-eyed look, just oozing with unwanted sympathy. “Everypony’s got to belong somewhere…I guess donkeys don’t have cutiemarks, but if you had one, what would it be?”

“Well kid, I think you gave the answer away in the question. Everypony’s got to belong somewhere, but not everydonkey. My kind aren’t so easily swayed by destinies or purposes. I move from town to town, making a few bits working odd jobs and whatnot to keep myself moving.”

“I guess that makes sense,” the foal answered, briefly tucking her head under her quilt to examine her cutiemark. “I’m not too sure where I belong either. That’s why I’m striking out on my own, to learn more about myself! Hellooooo Equestria! First stop Ponyville, next stop who knows!”

It seemed that the current topic of conversation had completely reinvigorated the filly while rendering Cranky quite exhausted. She hopped up onto her hind legs and held up a triumphant forehoof. The universe itself seemed to encourage her behavior as a breeze blew at the quilt hanging around her neck, giving her the appearance of a tiny superhero. Cranky watched the absurd display with disinterest until the filly’s statement struck him.

“Ponyville?” he asked with mounting confusion.

The filly broke her pose to look at him and spoke succinctly, “Yeah, Ponyville.”

“Uh, kid? We’re not going to Ponyville. This caravan is heading to Dodge Junction.”

There was a sudden silence between the pair as they stared at each other in equal bewilderment. Although words were absent, meaning was conveyed at a rapid rate. Neither was joking, and both had spoken under the assumption that they were correct. But, only one of them was correct, and both knew exactly who it was.

What followed was what Cranky would have considered a textbook example of the veracity of the phrase; The road to Tartarus is paved with good intentions. He had acted upon his first impulse to correct the kid, but he should have known that she would react to the bad news as any kid probably would. With a total meltdown, figuratively and literally. She seemed to dissolve under her quilt into a puddle of weeping and hiccupping.

“What am I gonna do! I was supposed to go to Ponyville, I told ma and pa that I would go to Ponyville!”

“I’m sorry to say this, but we’re definitely not going to Ponyville,” Cranky reiterated with a cringe.

“Oh no,” the foal cried out in despair, she looked out at the dark horizon with wide eyes. “D-do you think I should go back? To my home I mean. I shouldn’t have left home…I-I already messed this up.”

“No,” Cranky said, much quicker and more decisively than he intended, “That is a very bad idea. I’m sure your folks would prefer you wind up in the wrong town, then walk all the way back home by yourself.”

There were many tragedies and misfortunes that could befall anybody foolish enough to venture around the region completely alone. This only became more truthful with inexperience and was made even worse by the age of the individual.

“B-but this isn’t how things were supposed to go,” she explained. Her tiny pink head peaked out from under her quilt, just enough for Cranky to see her eyes saturated with tears.

He sighed, resolving himself to fate. He scooted closer to her and spoke decisively, “Listen, kid…I’m going to tell you something much more valuable than any ‘fact’ in that silly guidebook of yours. Sometimes we make plans, and they rarely work out perfectly. Yeah, it pays to know how to think ahead, but you also need to know how to work on your hooves. Roll with the punches and keep it moving.”

The filly raised her head a bit as some of the strength returned to her voice. “What do you think I should do?”

Cranky sighed and thought it over. “Go to Dodge. Write your folks and explain the situation. It’ll take a few more days to get to Ponyville than you all planned. I believe the Eastern Friendship Express line just hit Dodge, so you might be able to take the train that’ll pass through Ponyville on the way to Canterlot. If not, join another caravan and head to Baltimare since you can catch a train to Canterlot from there, then head to Ponyville.”

“Okie dokie, go to Dodge Junction, then take the train to Ponyville,” the foal repeated, wiping tears from her eyes.

Cranky sat in silence as her hiccups and sobs dwindled into sniffles, and was amazed at how her very aura shifted in mere seconds. Perhaps it was due to the poor lighting, but Cranky could have sworn that the pink filly’s coat had changed shades. And he was certain that her wild and curly mane had essentially burst and straightened itself out. Now, as she recovered, the curls seemed to coil themselves as she considered the new plan.

Finally, after a few minutes of repeating Cranky’s idea, she smiled and spoke, “And this way, I get to take a train.”

“You sure do. I’m guessing you’ve never been on a train before?”

“No siree! But I’ve heard all about them! They're big and metal-ly, and they run on coal! Oh, oh, and they’re connecting all of Equestria like a big octopus!” she shouted, squeezing herself in a tight hug, “An octopus that uses its tentacles to pull all of Equestria in a big hug, so ponies can visit each other more often!”

Despite himself, Cranky smiled at the image that the foal had described. He supposed that she wasn’t far off with her analogy. If Canterlot was the head, then the railroad was its arms, stretching to and connecting the farthest corners of Equestria. The expansion project began just in time for the aging donkey to continue his travels without having to walk everywhere.

“I have to say, trains are wonderful. I envy your generation. Back in my day, only a few major cities had them, and only because the fancy folk needed to get to Canterlot. Now small towns like Dodge, with us common folk, can get places easier,” Cranky admitted.

“I heard the train can run faster than any earthpony! And bet if it could fly, it would fly faster than any pegasus. Oh I’m so excited, I can’t wait for tomorrow!” cheered the foal. Even in the darkness of night, she seems to twinkle and shine with pure optimism.

To Cranky, it felt like the conversation had come to a natural conclusion as even the foal grew silent. He waited for her to rejoin the others by the campfire, and finally leave him be. Instead, she placed her saddlebag on the ground and pulled her quilt to cover her. She nestled into the ground and used her saddlebags as a pillow. Cranky, not having much left to fight, made himself comfortable. He unraveled his sleeping bag and crawled in with a yawn.

“Goodnight kid,” Cranky mumbled without thinking.

“And goodnight to you si-” the filly suddenly stopped, popping up from her resting place abruptly with a wide-eyed stare.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry sir,” she cried with a quivering lip. “I didn’t ask you your name.”

Now she cares about social convention. Cranky thought with a snort. He sat up just enough to look at the foal directly. “The names Cranky Doodle Donkey, just call me Cranky.”

The foal sniffled before giving him a resolute nod and smile. “Hiya Cranky! My name is Pinkamena Diane Pie, but just call me Pinkie!”

“Right. Well, goodnight Pinkie,” Cranky said, laying back down.

“And a good night to you Mr. Cranky!”

Author's Note

And so, they meet, hooray! 🎉 I am certain all things will go as planned from here. :twilightsmile:

But seriously, this story will be updating relatively quickly over the next week or so, mostly because I wrote a few chapters in bulk. Please don't think I am some sort of word machine. A year ago, I could write a bunch in one sitting. Now, not so much. I don't know what happened, but I like to think I'm taking more time to plan things out... or something.

Fun Fact #1: I set a goal to upload this story by June 30th... it is almost September. :ajbemused:

Thanks for reading, see y'all soon, and please take care 👋

Ch 4: Welcome to Dodge

“And I was like, ‘That’s amazing!’ Because I couldn’t imagine what I would do if somepony just yanked on my tail and it popped off. But then that's what the lizard did! And ran off and left its tail and guess what? The tail was still moving all by itself! So, I picked it up and tried to give it back, but the lizard just kept going an-”

“That's cool, kid. Hey, why don’t you go show it to Cranky?”

Rusted Peddler didn’t try to hide his smirk as he recited the magic words. Over the last few days, the members of the caravan had come to rely heavily on these golden words to alleviate the “Pinkie Problem.”

Of course, the filly wasn’t made aware of the issue, she was a little kid after all. She was young, excitable, and prone to being a little too friendly. She talked a lot and never got exhausted, even as they trudged along for hours.

So, instead of scolding her and breaking her little heart, they passed the responsibility on to somepony else. Nopony in the caravan knew why Pinkie was so thoroughly attached to the elderly donkey.

In their eyes, he was old, dull, and meanspirited, yet the filly clearly favored him. Whenever she unleashed a tirade of words onto the other travelers, they would simply mention Cranky. Without fail, she always did the same thing.

“Oh, my goodness. You’re right!” she shouted, looking around for the donkey. “Cranky! Cranky take a look at this!”

A cloud of dust erupted as the pink filly darted towards Cranky’s direction. His groan of dismay was audible to all, but none of them felt sympathetic. At the end of the day, the only thing they could feel for the donkey was joy. Joy that they were not him.

Rusted hummed a happy tune as they pushed onward, passing massive orchards and farms on their way. Not only was he at peace again, but he could see the faint outline of a town in the distance.

The atmosphere around Dodge Junction swarmed with energy and movement as ponies hustled and bustled about the collection of townhouses and storefronts. Gone were the conservative shawls and neckties of the Plains' territory west of this tiny town. Instead, the ponies of Dodge adjourned themselves with vests, handkerchiefs, and cowpony hats.

A sense of newness radiated along the dirt roads, infecting everypony that entered the city limits. Places like this were few and far between since their proximity to the treacherous and uncharted Arimasti Territory made them a liability.

But that’s what added to its charm, the novelty, and tenacity that was integral to its founding. The ponies that committed to living there believed in their tiny town wholeheartedly. They staked their lives and time on it.

Upon entering the town, the caravan dissolved as members wordlessly parted, drawn in whatever direction their heart was leading them. To some, Dodge Junction was simply a pit stop, while to others it may become home.

As for Pinkie, she knew she wasn’t supposed to stay, but she couldn’t help but revel in the atmosphere. Rockville was never this lively or full since Plain ponies preferred to keep to themselves. As she looked, she was drawn to a pony bellowing at the center of a large and mesmerized crowd.

“Look Cranky! Let’s go check it out,” Pinkie shouted, already pulling Cranky along with a hoof.

Cranky stumbled unsteadily forward in her grip. This might have been a good time to stand his ground, but he reasoned that the filly would be gone soon. He had tried all other options, but they always failed.

The kid had a way of finding him, even if it meant appearing in impossible spaces. He determined that he could tolerate her for a few more hours, then take peace in knowing he’d never see her again.

They joined the crowd to watch the display. Despite being in the very back, they could still get a good view of the commotion.

“Howdy there folks, you're just in time for the greatest show in this corner of Equestria!” shouted the pony with a voice clearer than the afternoon sky. ”Gather around and plop on those haunches because Buffalo Bull’s Wild West Show is here to entertain!”

The crowd stomped and cheered in eager anticipation, pulling in closer as the stallion jumped atop a makeshift stage with curtains. He was a young and slim stallion with a tan coat, long flowy light brown mane, and a luscious handlebar mustache. He wore a hat and had a pair of metallic bull horns on his flank.

The stallion removed his hat and held it to his chest, introducing himself, “Now you can go on ahead and call me Buffalo Bull, Showpony, Pioneer, and Express runner extraordinaire. And my friend here… well I’ll let her introduce herself. Calamity Mane, c’mon up hun.”

From behind the curtain emerged a young mare with a pale-yellow coat and a wavy two-toned red mane worn up in an elaborate updo. She overlooked the crowd with a pair of shining green eyes and an alluring smile.

“Thank ya kindly Bull, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintances. As you heard, my name is Calamity Mane, and I’m one of the best lassoers in all the land!” she declared brandishing her lasso.

The crowd erupted in another applause as she launched into a series of tricks with her lasso. She seemed to exercise an unnatural level of control over the rope, commanding it to do things the average pony couldn’t.

Buffalo Bull stood to the side of the stage and started to stomp, beckoning the audience to join in and clap her along. There was an overwhelming sense of joy overtaking the crowd as Calamity hoped and jumped in harmony with her rope.

Even Cranky was impressed by the spectacle, moving his hoof marginally to clap in rhythm with everypony else. But just as the show was reaching its peak, a deafening shout overpowered the crowd.

“Stop. Stop!” shouted an older stallion with a severe expression. He hopped onto the stage. “I apologize everypony, but this must end. You all know the rules.”

The crowd's mood soured as they began to boo and jeer at the older stallion. Yet, he remained undaunted and serious. He wore a ribbon tie, vest, and a pair of small, rounded glasses that gave him a very distinguished look. Buffalo Bull approached him with a look of concern, not looking for a fight but an answer.

“What’s the problem sir?” he asked politely, contrasting the outright vitriol of the crowd.

The older stallion offered Buffalo a hoofshake and spoke proudly, “I’m the mayor of this fine town, Mayor Drudgery. And I’m afraid I can’t let y’all display such wild behavior in front of my townsfolk.”

A look of surprise came over Buffalo’s face as he accepted Drudgery’s hoofshake. He cast a wary gaze to Calamity, silently begging her to come help.

“Why Mr. Mayor, it's a pleasure to meet you, and we don’t mean to offend, but…” Calamity started, looking to Buffalo for comfort. “The folks around here were enjoying our show. I promise there ain’t nothing unsavory to be seen around here. I’m a Celestia-fearing mare.”

“I have no doubts that you are ma’am, and I apologize if I implied that,” Mayor Drudgery explained, offering Calamity a hoofshake as well. “But I can’t risk exposing my ponies to anything that might negatively influence them. Not everypony can maneuver a rope like you, and that could lead to injury.”

“Well, we’ve got lots of other tricks that we can perform. We’d be happy to compromise with you, sir,” Buffalo offered sincerely.

The young performers looked at Mayor Drudgery with pleading eyes. He studied the ground and tapped his hoof, thinking it over. Eventually, he sighed and spoke.

“You two have been real respectful, so I guess I can give y’all another go. Tell you what, stop by Town Hall tomorrow, and I’ll give y’all a copy of the bylaws to run your show by,” Drudgery explained.

The performers emitted a little cheer, grasping each other in relief. The mayor turned back to the crowd and was greeted by the thunderous sound of booing. Unnerved by the intensity, Pinkie looked up at Cranky and inched closer to him.

“Why did he end the show?” she asked, saddened that everypony was being so rude to each other.

Cranky scratched his head, wondering if this was a good time to depart before answering, “I’m not too sure, kid. Looks like the mayor’s got something against performers.”

“Oh, it ain’t just against performers. He hates just about anything fun.” snarled a disappointed stallion loud enough for all to hear.

“Yeah, he only ever wants us to work, work, work. Celestia forbid we enjoy ourselves,” added a mare as she pushed her way through the crowd.

The grumbling and negative comments continued as the crowd began to break apart. The mayor exited the stage, keeping his head up and maintaining a calm demeanor despite the scorn sent his way.

“He hates fun,” Pinkie whispered to Cranky, as she watched him go. “How could anypony hate fun?”

Cranky shrugged, turning to leave. “Beats me. Don’t worry yourself with it, let's head to the train station and get you on your way.”

Pinkie heard and understood Cranky’s words, but she couldn’t fully accept them. She worried as her little hooves scampered to follow after him. She looked over her shoulder and saw Mayor Drudgery carry himself with a familiar fortitude and a stony expression.

As the mayor walked alone, the distance between him and the crowd grew ever larger.

“But you don’t understand mister! I’m not supposed to be here, I have to go to Ponyville soon, or my ma and pa and sisters will worry,” Pinkie cried, pushing her face against the glass of the information kiosk.

“I understand that little lady, but there’s not much I can do. Mayor Drudgery has temporarily shut down the railroad project. No trains are going in or out till further notice,” explained the attendant. It was obvious the stallion working the kiosk was equally, if not more, frazzled by the news than Pinkie or Cranky.

“Well, do you have any idea how long ‘further notice’ is going to be?” Cranky questioned impatiently.

“No sir,” mumbled the worker, shuffling around a heap of papers at his desk. “I can’t even tell y’all why the cease order was issued.”

“Great, looks like we’re switching to Plan B” Cranky snarled sarcastically, before questioning the attendant, “Any more caravans coming through, especially any heading to Baltimare.”

The attendant selected a paper nervously and carefully read it before explaining, “Aside from the one that arrived today, it's projected that two more should be arriving sometime tomorrow.”

“Alright, looks like you’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” Cranky said with a shake of his head. “It’s been an…experience getting to know you. Good luck, kid.”

Cranky wasn’t sure if this was the best time to part ways, but he figured it was better sooner than later. He had been nice to her, much nicer than he had been to anypony for some years. He had assured that she knew what to do and where to go. He turned away from her quickly, determined to move away at a brisk pace until he came face to face with yet another stallion.

The stallion was lengthy with a periwinkle coat. He had a milky white mane with streaks of baby blue. He towered over Cranky, staring at him with amber irises cornered by crow’s feet. He wore the average attire of an inhabitant of the area, a cowpony hat with an ornately decorated vest covered in tassels.

To his right was a smaller dark brown stallion with a cowpony hat and boots. Behind them were two bulky stallions in similar costumes. They, a pegasus and unicorn, both had pristine white coats, blue manes, and uninterested expressions as their leader smiled wryly.

“Can’t make it to Ponyville? It is a shame. The mayor of this town has been on a power trip ever since his…dubious… election. Not only does he hurt his constituents, but he also inconveniences his visitors,” derided the periwinkle stallion.

“Right,” Cranky agreed, glancing back at Pinkie. “Let’s go Pinkie.”

Pinkie perked up at the mention of her name and hopped over to Cranky’s side. She gazed up at the quartet of stallions curiously, clearly not feeling the same unease that Cranky did. Her youth made her incapable of sensing suspicious characters. But, Cranky wasn’t young, and he knew better.

He knew their type: polished and refined. They didn’t even try to blend in. They had no rural accents, and their clothes were spotless. Their slender figures were well-exercised and maintained. While their healthy rounded faces were well fed and catered to.

They were thoroughbreds, ponies of noble blood.

The leader was the epitome of the stereotype. His shiny, stylized mane and his unshorn periwinkle fetlocks. He looked down on others, and not simply because he was tall. His upturned nose and judgemental eyes screamed: I’d rather spit on you than speak to you.

Cranky knew unicorns of noble heritage when he saw them, and the royal guards flanking them didn’t disprove this suspicion. As to why members of Canterlot bureaucracy were here was none of Cranky’s business, but he had a feeling that it was nothing good.

They wouldn’t be pretending to be something they weren’t if they had good intentions. Cranky was acting on pure instinct as he gestured for Pinkie to follow. They moved to leave, but the periwinkle stallion blocked their way and spoke to his friend to the right. Disgust pulled at the corners of the unicorn’s mouth, but he smiled through it.

“Hopefully, the mayor will see the error of his ways soon. Shutting down the railroad is sure to attract attention from ponies much more powerful than he. I would hate to see them hang him by that nice little tie he wears around his neck,” said the stallion with mock concern.

“Well, maybe the mayor wants to attract some attention. And if they did come, I’d hope they’d try to speak to me directly first, rather than resort to intimidation and violence,” said Mayor Drudgery with a frown.

He sauntered toward them cooly, scowling at the quartet as he did. He inserted himself between the quartet and Cranky. The donkey was happy to let him do so, making space for the mayor to handle the situation. But as usual, Pinkie felt the need to say something.

“Hi Mayor Drudgery, nice to meet you,” she chirped. “Is it true that you hate fun?”

If Drudgery was hurt by Pinkie’s words, he didn’t show it. His expression softened while he lowered himself to her level.

“No little one. I don’t hate fun,” he said gently before casting a glare at the quartet. “What I do hate is temptation and bad influences.”

The leader of the quartet laughed haughtily. “I think we all do mayor Drudgery. We just don’t enforce that thinking on everypony because the local saloon owner had the audacity to run against us.”

Drudgery maintained composure despite the thinly veiled insult. He turned to Pinkie and gave her a slip of paper. “Listen you two, I apologize that you can’t be on your way. Take this and give it to the innkeeper. I’ll cover y’all’s stay.”

He then returned his attention to the quartet. “Why don’t you come with me, mister Cr-”

“Idler,” interrupted the periwinkle stallion. “The stallion to my right is Clipper Ship, and these gentlestallions behind me are Tramway and Stagecoach.”

“Right,” Drudgery said with an eyeroll. “Why don’t y’all come with me to my office so we can discuss somewhere in private.”

The stallions departed, and Cranky wasn’t in a hurry to follow them. He stood by vigilantly, waiting for them to distance themselves. As he watched them go, Pinkie tugged at his hoof.

“Lucky, they get to see the mayor's office! They must be friends because he wasn’t mean at all. I hope everypony starts being nicer to him.”

Pinkie’s words were sincere, and Cranky had a feeling that Drudgery wasn’t bad either. However, it was apparent that Pinkie’s hopes for his future wouldn’t be coming true anytime soon.

A dark cloud was looming over the tiny town of Dodge Junction, and Cranky felt an overwhelming urge to get out before he got caught in the storm.

Ch 5: Pleasures of the Flesh

Morning came over Dodge Junction as a beautiful sunrise that painted the vast and empty horizon in vibrant, warm colors. There was a soft rumbling of hooves humming throughout the town as ponies rose to begin a new day of work.

Cranky wanted nothing more than to sleep in. Most of yesterday was spent running and hopping around as Pinkie zipped from sight to sight and pony to pony. He was utterly exhausted, only finding solace in the expense-free stay at the local inn.

The soft mattress and plush pillow felt like heaven to his aching body, but right when he was ready to finally rest, Pinkie started to make herself comfortable too. She commandeered one of the drawers in the room, nestled in with her quilt, and passed out. Cranky couldn’t even wake her if he tried. As lively as she was during the day, the kid slept like a rock. He opted to take the sound of snoring over her talking and drifted off as well.

When morning came, Pinkie had awoken him, insisting they get breakfast together before exploring more of the town. She yanked the sleepy-eyed donkey out of bed with surprising strength.

They were served porridge at the inn's dining area, which Pinkie greedily wolfed down. Patrons of the inn eyed Cranky suspiciously, silently judging him for failing to feed a kid he had known for less than a few days.

Aside from the sound of Pinkie gobbling her food, Cranky could hear ponies congregating outside a nearby window. Their voices started as a mere murmur but crescendoed into a heated discussion. From the hubbub, Cranky could discern the distinct tone of none other than Buffalo Bull.

“Now, this is just absurd. I know y’all said he wasn’t a fan of having fun, but these rules are crazy!”

An unfamiliar voice seemed to agree with him. “We told y’all we was in desperate times. Mayor Drudgery started coming up with all these rules after he narrowly won his election.”

“No wonder it was narrow. Take a look at this Calamity. ‘No gambling, no salt-licking, no spitting!”

“I’ve seen 'em Buffalo,” confirmed Calamity.

“I mean I can get ‘no firing crossbows or fighting, unless during times of conflict’ but ‘no dancing or looking at geese past 9 o’clock?’ I’m not sure if any of our acts even qualify anymore.”

More grunts of dismay came from the group, which seemed to grow by the minute. Cranky tried to focus on his breakfast, but it seemed even Pinkie was getting drawn into the gossip.

Porridge splattered onto the table as she flailed her spoon about. “I’m confused. Aren’t all those things bad anyway? Mayor Drudgery isn’t being mean by banning dangerous stuff. My ma does that all the time. Even when it makes me sad, I know she’s just trying to protect us.”

Cranky was a bit caught off guard by Pinkie’s confession. If the last few days had taught him anything, it was that she was pretty bad at following instructions. This gave him the impression that she had a rebellious streak, but he also had to admit that her propensity for non-conformity might be more accidental than anything.

He stirred around his porridge as he explained, “The circumstances are a little bit more complicated than mothers and daughters, kid. It seems like you understand why ponies don’t like being told what to do. But it gets even more frustrating when you’re grown.”

“Even more frustrating?” Pinkie asked with wide eyes. “Being an adult must be tough.”

Cranky chuckled to himself. “Kid, you’ve got no idea.”

“Even if everypony has a reason to be all angry at the mayor, I still hope he knows he has a friend. Being the main pony in charge must be lonely.”

I’ve never heard that one before. Cranky thought. Out of all the sentiments he had heard about politicians throughout his life, those words were the most sympathetic. “It may be, but it's what he asked for when he took on the job.”

“I guess,” Pinkie said while chewing her lip. She perked up in her seat as she came upon a new idea. “How about we get him a gift in town today? That way he knows that we like him at least.”

Cranky had already reflected on Pinkie’s inability to listen but still tried to dissuade her in the most definitive way possible. “No way. It’s best not to get involved. I promise that he expects nothing more than what he’s getting. It's a thankless job in a thankless world. Got it?”

Pinkie's brow furrowed as she contemplated before conceding.

“Got it.”

“Look Cranky! Cherry trees!” shouted Pinkie, already running to the nearest tree.

“Easy there kid! Don’t pick at trees that don’t belong to you,” Cranky said before adding, “at least not in broad daylight!”

Pinkie waited for Cranky to catch up by running circles around the tree. She pranced in endless bliss at the sight of ripened cherries hanging from the branches. Her smile was reflected by the tiny red surfaces as she beamed up at them.

Having seen most of the center of Dodge Junction, Pinkie and Cranky had opted to explore the outskirts. Outside the town center was a series of farms and ranches, owned by the ponies most influential in supporting the young town’s growth. The properties were sweeping verdant acres of color in an otherwise desolate, desert area.

Guessing that the cherry trees would probably satiate Pinkie’s endless curiosity for a few minutes, Cranky took a seat under the tree. He rested his head against the trunk and shut his eyes as Pinkie marveled around him.

“Oh they’re so pretty!” she marveled.

“They sure are,” said an unknown, but familiar voice.

Cranky popped open an eye at the intrusion. He spotted none other than Calamity Jane approaching them from somewhere within the field.

“Oh my goodness!” Pinkie shouted, covering her muzzle in surprise.

She rested her hoof on the cherry tree and smiled at Pinkie sweetly. “It’s nice to see somepony else admire this place as much as I do.”

“Of course,” Pinkie chirped, “Do you like cherries Miss Calamity?”

“Sure do honey,” Calamity answered, showing off her cutiemark. “They are my special talent after all.”

Pinkie’s jaw dropped as she looked at the bright red cherries on Calamity’s pale-yellow flank. It wasn’t until now that she was close enough to the performer to see her cutiemark.

“What! But what about the Wild West Show? Shouldn’t you have a lassoer cutiemark or a performer cutiemark?” Pinkie asked incredulously.

“Not exactly honey, ponies can do a lot more than what their special talents demand. I adore cherries, but I like lots of other things too. Life can be more than one thing you know.”

“Wow!” Pinkie exclaimed, thoroughly blown away by Calamity’s words of wisdom.

Seeing that Pinkie was eager to talk, Calamity also took a seat under the tree and gestured for Pinkie to do the same. She gave Cranky a cursory glance, seeing the old donkey resting peacefully and harmlessly. She leaned into Pinkie to tell her a secret.

“Guess what,” she whispered.

“What,” Pinkie whispered back, shaking with glee.

“My name isn’t even Calamity Jane. It’s actually Cherry Jubilee.”

“Cherry Jubilee?” Pinkie said, giving the name a try. “How cool, that's a great name!”

“Why thank you, sweetheart,” Cherry said with a giggle.

“Calamity Jane is a super cool name, but why go by that if Cherry Jubilee is already so pretty.”

“Like I said, ‘life can be more than one thing.’ Ponies can like more than one thing and be more than one thing.”’

“I guess that makes sense! My cutiemark has three balloons, but I’m not a balloon pony. I’m a party pony!” Pinkie shouted, throwing up her hooves and falling onto her back.

“A party pony?” Cherry asked, “Now, that sounds like a real fun talent. What’s a fun-loving filly like you doing in a fun-hating town like this.”

Pinkie sat up and looked at Cherry. “This town isn’t fun-hating at all!”

“Oh, you think so?” Cherry questioned, genuinely curious.

“Yep, I know so,” Pinkie answered with a nod. “I met the mayor yesterday and he said so.”

Cherry couldn’t help but grimace at the memory of listening to the mayor's dull and monotone voice. “Maybe so, but as a party pony, you don’t think all his rules are a bit much?”

Pinkie shook her head. “Not at all. He bans stuff that can harm ponies. The inadvisable behaviors section of A Foal’s Guide to Greater Equestria says that spitting is gross, drunkenness causes disorderliness, and that the consequences of gambling aren't worth the cost.”

“Those can all be true. But life is about living. And a lot of those banned things can be real fun. It’s about alleviating the stresses of this life. Things shouldn’t be all work and sacrifice. Sometimes you gotta indulge in the pleasures of the flesh,” Cherry said with conviction.

Pinkie cocked her head to the side and looked at Cherry curiously. “What’s the pleasures of the flesh?”

Cherry scratched the side of her face thoughtfully. “Oh, you know. It’s about feeling as many good things as you can before you can’t feel anything anymore. It might not be the best for your soul or you in the long term. But what’s life if not a bunch of little moments. Might as well take a little moment to do what feels good.”

Pinkie hummed to herself and pointed up at the cherries above. “So it's like if I wanted to eat this cherry, even though I’m not supposed to because it's not mine. But, I really want to, because it's ripe and red and juicy and it's one little cherry among a whole bunch of cherries!”

Cherry smiled at the filly as she stood and plucked two cherries from the tree. She winked at Pinkie as she handed her one cherry and kept the other for herself.

“I don’t think that want is too bad. Just use moderation. When indulging in the pleasures of the flesh, try to pursue things that will mainly hurt you,” Cherry explained.

“Hurt me?” Pinkie asked, gawking at the cherry.

“Don’t worry about the cherry sweetheart. I’m talking more generally like how something might come back to bite you in ways you never expected.”

Pinkie leaned in. “Like what?”

“Well,” Cherry began rubbing her chin anxiously. “Like when the cute colt next door asks you to travel Equestria with him rather than spending your days maintaining your family Cherry farm. And you think, ‘Why not? Why not be more than one thing? Why not live?’ So, you leave home and travel from town to town, sleeping under the stars and meeting all types of creatures. And as the weeks pass you look over at that colt and realize he’s not much of a colt anymore. He’s a rugged and strong stallion, who is also your best friend in the whole world. And you think to yourself, ‘There’s no way he sees me the same way.’ But, he does, he really does. He sees you as a charming and beautiful mare and asks for your hoof in marriage. At first, you're elated, but then you realize that this is way more than what you expected. What about the cherries? What about your destiny? How could you possibly reconcile his dreams with yours? So you panic. And you run and run until you find the one place outside of his forehooves that feels like a home. And you ask yourself, ‘Whatever happened to the pleasures of the flesh? How did I let this get this far?’”

A silence swept over the cherry orchard as Cherry Jubilee lost herself in thought. Pinkie looked at her in bewilderment, having understood about half of what she just heard but still being worried about her new friend’s despondent state.

The monologue had even awoken Cranky who eyed the young mare knowingly. Neither Pinkie nor Cranky knew what to say in response so they just looked at each other in uncertainty.

“Ah, I’m sorry y’all,” Cherry apologized with a blush. “I got a little off topic, didn’t I? What were we talking about again?”

“The ‘pleasures of the flesh?’” Cranky supplied with a raised eyebrow.

“Right, yep, thank you, sir. Taking care of your urges and needs may bite you, but it's just a part of being alive. Up to a certain point, I think ponies should be able to make their own choices, even if those choices aren’t always the best.”

Pinkie considered Cherry’s words carefully. It was crazy to think of all the new things she had seen in a few days. And now, she was hearing new things too. Ideas and thoughts that ran counter to everything she was taught.

It was scary, and it was exciting.

She opted to store it in the back of her mind for safe keeping. The trio enjoyed the warmth and the shade as they exchanged stories and experiences.

After some time, Pinkie started picking at the cherry trees’ bark, and Cherry helped her. Cranky tried not to stir too much as they chipped off a few pieces of cherry bark. He flashed them a partly disapproving and partly confused look, but Cherry was the only one who was phased by it.

“What,” she asked as if Cranky was the weird one. “It has beneficial properties.”

By noon, Pinkie was itching to run and explore once more, and Cranky was just rested enough to follow her. He let her run ahead as he shook the last remains of sleepiness off of him. Cherry told them that she would stay behind, but that she would definitely see them later. As Cranky stretched out his legs, she spoke to him.

“Hope I didn’t warp your kid's mind too much, sir. I’ve been told I’m a bit of a bad influence,” she joked.

“Not at all, It's not like she understood anything,” Cranky said, with a hoof wave before adding, “And she’s not my kid. She just latched on to me. I’m trying to get her to Baltimare, but the railroads shut down.”

“Well, if you need to get her there, Buffalo and I can take her,” Cherry offered. “Ain’t no reason for us to stay where we ain’t wanted, and we got room.”

Cranky nodded at the words, overcome with a deep sense of relief. “I think I’ll take you up on that. But I guess that means you’re planning on staying with him?”

Cherry suddenly flushed red as she stammered, “I-I uh…I’m not too sure what you mean sir.”

“I ain’t dumb kid,” Cranky shook his head and smiled, “Take it from a donkey with regrets. When you love somepony, you tell them, and you stick to them. If that love is real, they’ll stick right back, and things will fall in place.”

“Right,” Cherry said pensively, lacking her usual confidence. She looked at Cranky with an uneven smile. “Thanks, sir.”

“Hey Cranky, what’s your favorite pleasure of the flesh?” Pinkie questioned as they returned to the town center.

Thoroughly caught off guard Cranky sputtered for a solid minute before answering, “Listen, I know you’re curious and all, but…maybe that's a question you should refrain from asking…forever.”

“Oh, really? Why?”

“Uh…well… let’s just say that the overall talk was applicable to many things, but the term, ‘pleasure of a flesh’ is a little more… specific.”

“Oh,” Pinkie mumbled, thinking deeply about what Cranky was implying. In a bizarre instance of acuteness, Pinkie almost immediately caught on to what Cranky meant. “Wait…I get it! Is it a reference to se-”

“Hey!” Cranky interjected. “Look there kid, a mob. You like those right? Let’s go check that out and stop talking!”

Pinkie refocused on her surroundings, finding the inhabitants of Dodge Junction operating in full swing. The energy was similar to the day prior as ponies scrambled to make the most of daylight. And just like the day before, a large mob of onlookers gathered around a central figure.

She was a maroon-colored mare donning a bowler cap. She stood in front of a foreclosed building, surrounded by crates of goods. One of the crates was opened, and filled with saltwater taffy, which she gave out in hoofuls.

“I know, I know. Long time no see folks. I hope these taffies can make up for my absence. What can I say, I’m a busy mare,” said the mare.

She beamed at the crowd, returning the same energy they gave her. It was a radically different reception than the one given to Drudgery. Instead of taunts and jeers, the mare received praise and kind comments.

“What ya been up to Ferrous?”

“Where've ya been Ferrous?”

“The town ain’t been the same since ya left!”

“When are you gonna reopen the saloon? I got too many bits sitting around in my pocket!”

“Easy, easy folks! I appreciate y’all’s concern,” Ferrous soothed with a laugh. “I’ve been taking a little me time since the election. It’s not like there's much for me to do here since the saloon got shut down, so I’ve been staying on my cousin's farm to recoup.”

A sense of ill-will returned to the crowd at the mention of the election, but Ferrous fought to maintain control with an easy-going smile.

“I’ve heard all about what the mayor has been doing. And all I can say is that I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better candidate for y’all,” Ferrous apologized, removing her hat, and holding it close to her heart.

Somepony spoke up from the crowd, “Aw it ain’t your fault Ferrous. You did your best. Have you heard anything from Shorty?”

“Ole Shorty?” Ferrous asked with a growing smile. “Y’all know that nothing can keep that scoundrel down. He wrote me and said he got big plans for the future. Knowing him, we should all be scared.”

She burst out into a chuckle, and the crowd joined in. Pinkie was intrigued by how one pony could elicit such a fond response from so many. It was clear that Ferrous was popular since she controlled the crowd with ease. Even Shorty, who wasn’t present, appeared to have a sizable number of fans.

Ponies missed them when they were absent and wondered what they were doing when they were gone. What does somepony have to do to be adored by so many? Pinkie wondered as Ferrous’ chuckle bellowed out over the crowd.

Cranky used the distraction as an excuse to catch his breath and eat some taffy. Pinkie grew oddly still, silently fixating on the ground as the crowd multiplied by the minute. She dug up a solitary pebble while Ferrous addressed her eager supporters.

“Hey, Cranky?” Pinkie asked, placing the pebble into her saddlebag. “I’m gonna get a drink of water.”

“Yeah sure, kid,” Cranky muttered dismissively.

Pinkie skittered off, passing the nearby water trough, and heading straight to Town Hall. She tried not to garner too much attention as she opened the door and entered the main lobby. At first glance, the inside of Town Hall looked more like a home than an office space.

Shiny wooden furniture decorated every corner. By the front door was a large grandfather clock with a mesmerizing pendulum. The sound of its ticking bounced off the walls combining with muffled voices from upstairs.

Pinkie looked up the stairs and might have considered going back for a brief millisecond had there not been an enchanting ray of light that shined down the polished steps. She surreptitiously made her way up the stairs, stopping at the door presumably leading to Drudgery’s office.

The voices sounding from the room were in deep conversation, so Pinkie chose to sit and wait patiently. As she waited, her ears perked up at the familiar sound of Drudgery’s monotone voice.

“Y’all played your game the way y’all wanted to and still lost. So, I brought y’all here to tell y’all personally that you better stop meddling in my town’s affairs.”

“‘My town?’” questioned the mocking tone of Idler. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but you’re not too popular around here these days.”

“You’d only think that if you were hanging around the youngsters in town. The older folks understand the importance of order.”

“And how long do you think that will last?” asked Idler.

There was a pause before Drudgery spoke again, “It doesn't matter. I’m just holding out til I can be certain that your influence isn’t dirtying this town anymore. You let somepony pull a few bricks, and the next thing you know the whole tower comes crumbling down. I won’t let you in. Once you're gone, we’ll all be safe and free.”

Idler cackled. “And you thought that mettling with what is mine was the best way to get rid of me?”

“Well,” Drudgery began with a sigh, “You weren’t responding to my letters, so I thought I’d inform you personally. What is yours will open as soon as you agree to leave my town alone.”

“I’m afraid that that is much easier said than done. I’ve developed quite an affinity for this measly, little town.”

There was a loud bang as Drudgery raised his voice, “Well un-develop it! You lost! I don’t know exactly what y’all are doing, but I know it has to be wrong, and I want no part of it!”

“Your loss. Plenty of ponies would jump at the opportunity to be a part of this. Right, Clipper Ship?” Idler asked casually, seemingly unphased by Drudgery’s outburst.

“I-I think…” began a much more feeble third voice, “that there are merits to accepting Idler’s offer.”

“Listen, son, I’m not sure why Idler brought you here today, but I promise you he ain’t got a decent bone in his body. I think you know that and feel about the same way,” reasoned Drudgery.

“I assure you Drudgery, no appeal to pathos will sway my associate's good judgment. Right, Clipper Ship?”

“I…” Clipper began weakly before his answer died out into an uneasy silence.

One could hear a pin drop as the room became deathly silent. Then suddenly, a commotion broke out. Chairs scraped against the floor and hooves hurried into a trot. The door swung open outward and literally knocked Pinkie off guard.

She was swept up in the movement and shoved out of the way, causing her to hit the wall. Stars blurred her vision as Clipper Ship stumbled out in a huff. His movements were rushed and uncoordinated, a stark contrast to Idler’s graceful saunter. Before making his way down the stairs, Idler turned to smile at Drudgery arrogantly.

“I’ll give your regards to Representative Hardlick. He does speak of you quite often since his arrival in Canterlot. It’s such a shame when good ponies have faith in such unworthy companions.”

With that, Idler departed, followed closely by his cronies. Drudgery stood in the doorway with a stern expression before noticing the fidgeting behind the door. He looked behind it and immediately dropped his facade.

“Oh no, darling they hurt you,” he whispered, rushing into his office to grab a handkerchief.

Pinkie wrinkled her nose as a small stream of blood seeped from her nostrils. It was a little sore, but it didn’t hurt too bad. Drudgery gently cupped her face with a hoof and tried to clean her face to the best of his ability. He appeared more expressive than ever as his face was racked with worry.

“You shouldn’t be here sweetheart. This is grown folks' business.”

“But I came to give you a gif- ah ow,” Pinkie explained with a flinch, trying to ignore the growing pain in her snout. She riffled through her saddlebag and retrieved the pebble she found outside.

“Hold still, I’m almost done,” Drudgery explained, before asking. “What’s the rock for?”

“It’s for you,” Pinkie said, offering him the stone. “It's got basalt, so it's super strong and durable like you. You can stick it in your pocket and never worry about it leaving you. Rocks are super loyal like that, they make great friends, so you never have to worry about it yelling at you.”

She pushed the pebble into Drudgery’s hoof, allowing him to feel its rough curves. It was a small gesture, but it felt much bigger for him than she could ever understand. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last kind thing that had happened to him. It reminded him of home.

He smiled and asked her, “Are you from Rockville or Sediment Town?”

“Rockville! How about you?” Pinkie responded automatically, surprised to find somepony that knew at least two Plain communities.

Drudgery tucked the stone into his vest pocket and patted it. “Born in Sediment Town but grew up in Pluton Port. Left when I was about your age but didn’t get far. I’ve been around these parts since then.”

“So you’re Plain too,” Pinkie murmured with a frown. “Shouldn’t you know better?”

“‘Know better?’” Drudgery questioned.

“Yeah! You got a whole lot of hochmut. That’s why everypony’s mad at you.”

Drudgery blinked a few times. “You think I’m arrogant?”

“Well yeah, but not because you’re a bad pony or anything, it's just…” Pinkie muttered, trying to explain it easily. “It’s like my older sister Limestone! She always tries to tell me and my sisters what to do, and she doesn’t listen to what we think!”

“And that upsets you?” Drudgery pondered.

“Yeah! We all get fussy at her, even if she’s right because she’s not being nice about it. So then pa asks us why nothing is getting done, and we start blaming each other. So pa tells us to be nice and work together as a team.”

Drudgery shook his head defensively. “But somepony has to be in charge, somepony has to make the hard choices. Even you and your sisters applied to authority to fix the situation.”

He looked at Pinkie, assuming he must have stumped her. But she only giggled, unperturbed by the intensity of his argument. It was funny to see an adult be perplexed by such a simple idea.

“Don’t be silly. We weren’t mad at Limestone because she was in charge, we were mad because she wasn’t listening. She wasn’t being a part of us, she was being above us! And pa didn’t ‘fix’ it; he gave us advice after he listened to us too. And we listened to him because we are all a part of one whole, and we love each other!”

“You found harmony. Everypony had their role but maintained mutual respect as members of a collective. You bridged the gap created by your differences through shared understanding and trust,” Drudgery breathlessly reiterated.

“Sure! But most importantly, we listened!” Pinkie chirped.

As Drudgery listened to her he finally understood. He found himself chuckling, recognizing what Pinkie found funny earlier. He still had to be set straight at his age and by none other but a fellow member of the Plain.

He massaged his head, astonished by his burgeoning revelation. “To think that a child would make me aware of such things. Hardlick was so much better at this than me. He just knew what to do.”

“Didn’t he leave you in charge? He believed in you!” Pinkie insisted, trying to rally his spirit.

“He did, but I don’t know why. I was at my best when I was his second hoof. The most experience I had before this was the managing I did on various farms in the area. I know how to handle logistics, not conversations. How do I become what they need me to be?”

Pinkie considered his words, playing with her hooves as she spoke, “It’s kinda like when I first got my cutiemark. All I could think was, ‘alright, now I get to make everypony in my community super-duper happy!’ I thought I’d finally found what part I was supposed to play.”

“But, I’m guessing it didn’t work out?”

“N-no…not quite. I just…I just didn’t fit in there,” Pinkie admitted with a frown. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t fit in anywhere. My pa said that if I look and listen hard enough, I’ll find my place. I just have to be willing to change and grow.”

“‘I just have to be willing to change and grow,’” he mused, remembering his colthood. “All this talk of pride and parts reminds me of an old stallion telling me much the same many moons ago when I first set out on my journey.”

“You don’t mean Mr. Mine Hutch?” Pinkie asked incredulously, studying the gray hues in Drudgery’s mane.

Drudgery snorted involuntarily. Suddenly overcome with energy he exclaimed, “Well I’ll be. Don’t tell me that old coot is still alive! He might as well be older than Celestia!”

Not wanting to disrespect an elder, Pinkie covered her mouth with her hooves but found herself laughing anyway. The joy they felt was contagious as they compared their experiences of growing up Plain.

“Wowie, Mr. Mayor!” Pinkie squeaked after some time. “I really like talking to you, and I bet other ponies would feel the same! Just listen, and everypony will be your friend. Even those stallions who yelled at you earlier!”

Pinkie smiled at the mayor, hoping he could turn a new leaf. But, the older stallion was no longer cheery, returning to his usual grave expression. He grew noticeably paler but offered Pinkie a small smile.

“I appreciate it little one, but listen, you know those stallions that came out of my office? Don’t go anywhere near them.”

Pinkie's ear folded behind her head. “Why not?”

“They’re just not good ponies sweetheart,” Drudgery said as sympathetically as he could, seeing the growing sadness in Pinkie’s eyes.

“But ho-”

Pinkie’s words were silenced by the sound of the front door opening as somepony came in abruptly.

“Mayor Drudgery! Mayor Drudgery!” shouted somepony from downstairs.

Drudgery looked over the banister and shouted. “Is that you Broom Tail? What is it, son?”

“I don’t know how to say this sir but…” began Broom Tail breathlessly, “It’s Shorty! He’s back and he ain’t alone!”

Ch 6: Dodge Junction War

The first thing Pinkie noticed when she exited Town Hall was the unnatural quiet that consumed the small town. The hinges of the front doors creaked as the mayor threw them open, shocking Pinkie due to how drastically Drudgery’s demeanor had changed. He lacked his usual dry sternness as he boiled over with rage.

Pinkie struggled to keep up as he marched down the streets, drawing the attention of everypony who passed. Pinkie noticed that for the first time since she'd arrived, Drudgery’s movements weren’t trailed by insults and jeers. Onlookers shrank and withered under his glare, moving out of his way without a word. He walked directly towards the large gathering of ponies who murmured and gossiped among themselves.

Upon first sight of him, they parted straight down the middle, allowing the mayor to continue his warpath. As the onlookers lined both sides of the street, Pinkie was plucked away from Drudgery by an incredibly nervous Cranky.

“Kid, where have yo- woah what happened?” he asked in a hushed shout.

Pinkie looked up at him briefly in confusion before remembering that her nose had been bleeding. She wiped at it with her hoof, trying to clean what remained of it before asking.

“What’s going on?”

“Somepony named Shorty came in, and everypony started making a fuss. From what I can guess, he’s not supposed to be here,” Cranky answered, casting a weary gaze toward the end of the street.

Following his gaze, Pinkie spotted a short, ivory-colored earthpony stallion, presumably Shorty, with an entourage of creatures behind him. They all donned similar black clothing, a combination of cowpony hats and vests. Ferrous was carrying out an animated conversation with them as Drudgery grew closer.

“Shorty, you’ve returned,” Drudgery stated with a scowl.

“You bet your biscuit that Ah’ve returned,” Shorty confirmed with a toothy grin. “And Ah brought my own welcoming committee.”

“I figure that's a reasonable decision since you're definitely not welcome here. You’ve had time to catch up now take your buddies and scram,” Drudgery ordered, impatiently.

“Woah, woah now,” Shorty soothed in exaggerated shock, “No need to be rude to the newcomers. At least learn their names before you throw us out. Who knows, maybe y’all can be friends.”

Shorty gestured to three ponies flanking his right.

“This fella here is Chuck Basket, and next to him is Wired Harp and Wild Pendulum.”

He turned to his left and pointed at the three beside him.

“Here we’ve got Treesap. The stallion with the crossbow is Crossbowjohn, and my batpony friend with the bat is none other than Batsy. I know, we’re very original.”

He then gestured behind him to the remaining two of his entourage.

“And behind me, we got my favorite colorful pair. The donkey is Vermillion Jack and the mare is Joyous Green.”

Drudgery’s eye twitched as he studied the cavalry that Shorty had built. They all wore the same arrogant smirk, but their eyes almost appeared predatory. Each of them brandished some form of poorly concealed weapon.

“Alright, y’all have had your fun. It's time to go,” Drudgery insisted.

“But Ah just got here, and Ah’m ready to play by your rules Drudgery,” Shorty replied with mock innocence.

Drudgery shook his head. “You’re not fooling anypony. You don’t play by the rules, the law, or common decency.”

"Well, it’s hard to follow when the goal keeps moving. You used the law against me to throw me out. Guess what Drudgey,” Shorty dramatically reached in his vest to retrieve a metal medallion, the crowd gasped as he showed off his newly issued deputies badge, “I am the law now, and so are my friends!”

Another round of gasps was heard as the rest of Shorty’s gang pulled out their deputies' badges. The sun reflected off of the badges, producing a blinding light. Mayor Drudgery looked on in a mix of disgust and astonishment.

Shorty winked at the mayor and pretended to polish his badge with a hoof. “Representative Hardlick sends his regards, Drudgey. Hope you don’t mind me bringing some extra reinforcements. Ah just want to ensure that we patch up this here conflict nice and civil like.”

Drudgery muttered as he brushed back his mane. He spoke gravely, “Now you listen here, you slimy, two-faced, empty-headed, useless, vapid, yellow-bellowed, troglodyte. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but that’s enough! Hardlick would have informed me of this!”

Shorty chuckled as he reached into his vest and retrieved a scroll. He tossed it haphazardly at Drudgery as he wiped a tear from his eye.

“Well, Drudgey, consider me the informer. Hardlick ain’t too happy to see his replacement drum up so much trouble. Passing crazy laws, banishing hard-working folk, closing down businesses, and shutting down the railroad! He appointed me to investigate and institute a little bit of order.”

Drudgery shook with anger as he picked up the scroll, unfurrowing and growing still as he read its contents. Wanting everypony to be in on the joke, Shorty decided to recite the words written.

“‘Due to growing concerns with the ongoing affairs of the newly established Dodge Junction, I, G. Hardlick, have petitioned the Equestrian Marshals Service to deputize the following individuals to ensure the prolonged success of our home. Best Regards, Rep. G. Hardlick,’” Shorty proclaimed.

Drudgery’s jaw tightened as his brow furrowed. There were no words for him to utter, he was completely flabbergasted. Nopony in the crowd even knew how to respond to the news. Cranky felt small hooves wrapping around one of his forehooves as the atmosphere grew tenser by the minute. He looked down at Pinkie, seeing a mix of worry and confusion in her eyes.

Shorty laughed and took a few steps forward. “Looks like this really caught you off guard. I gotta ask, how does it feel? Couldn’t be worse than how you made me feel.”

“Shorty this is more serious than a gambling saloon and faro dealing!” Drudgery sputtered out, crumpling the scroll up in his hooves.

“Is it? Because those things were real serious to me! I found a place here. A home, a job, friends, even a stake in my own business! Ferrous built something, and right when she let me in on it, you ruined it! All I did was try to speak my piece, but you cast me out!” Shorty shouted back, losing some of the amusement he had before.

“Ferrous,” Drudgery growled, turning fury onto the former saloon owner. “Is this your idea? Go behind my back and hire your whackjob friend to stage a coup against me?”

By the look on Ferrous’ face, it seemed she was equally as bewildered by the news as everypony else. Her mouth rapidly opened and shut as she looked back and forth between the mayor and Shorty.

“I-I didn’t know, Shorty just told me to be here!” She cried, raising her hooves defensively.

“You didn’t know? Your business partner comes back and tries to terrorize my town after you lose an election, and you’re acting like you didn’t know?” Drudgery questioned aggressively.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Ferrous responded with a shrug, “I’m guessing this is all because of ponies much more powerful than me.”

Drudgery’s muscles tensed at the choice of words. How convenient that all this conflict was happening on this particular day. And, while everything was starting to crumble, four faces were missing from the crowd. He had always heard that bad things come in threes. He had met the first in his office, and now the second was in the street taunting him.

What could possibly be the third?

“Shorty, you have no idea what this is,” Drudgery began softly as if he were speaking to a foal. “You came here to play, but you ain’t playing, you’re being played. This game is way bigger than you, and Ferrous knows more than she’ll probably ever tell you.”

Offended by Drudgery’s tone, Shorty shouted impetuously, “Keep her name out yer mouth! Ah ain’t being played, and Ah ain’t no foal! You’re just mad that you ain’t got nopony in the world that’ll stick by you.”

“You’re right, Shorty I don’t have too many friends to lean on,” Drudgery admitted clenching his hoof. “But I care to know the truth and what’s right. Even if I have to stand alone, I’ll hold that standard til the day I die. If you want to argue, we can find a better way to do it.”

Shorty shook his head and spat. “I already tried that. We both know how that went. Noponies leaving till we come to a consensus!”

A murmur broke out over the crowd as Shorty’s gang spread out. They held their weapons in plain view, informing all bystanders that it was best to stay put. Drudgery tried to keep everypony calm and keep a brave face. Against all the ponies around him, he was beginning to look incredibly small. He withered a bit until he heard a whistle from behind him.

All attention turned to the other end of the road as Broom Tail marched down the street with his own small militia. Pinkie could recognize quite a few farmers and ranchers from earlier in the ranks, along with a lot of older folks. Shorty clucked his tongue as the opposing party grouped up behind Drudgery.

“Won’t you look at that,” Shorty mused, pushing up his hat. “I guess you do have friends.”

“Cranky?”

“Yeah?”

“Is anything gonna happen?”

In response to Pinkie’s question, Cranky could only slowly blink and look glumly at the two parties having a standoff in the street. It had been hours since the conflict had started, but nothing had happened. Both parties were hesitating to make the first, so they settled into an uneasy stalemate. It was rather anti-climactic.

Each side of the street remained packed, but now the onlookers were sitting and waiting for anything to go down. Looking around, Pinkie could see ponies doing all sorts of activities to pass the time. Some read, others played cards, and a few even napped. It's not like she wanted anypony to fight, but if they did, she would prefer they did it promptly.

She rested her head in her hooves and blew a raspberry. Being held as collateral in a political deadlock was kind of boring, and she was starting to feel a little hungry. Cranky yawned, trying not to enter into his second nap of the day lest he awaken to mayhem if things ever did pick up.

“Hey Cranky, do you have any more of that taffy left?” Pinkie questioned having remembered that Ferrous had given some out earlier.

“Afraid not, kid,” Cranky drawled, smiling fondly at the memory. “I would have saved you a piece, but It was just too good. Made me feel great.”

“Right,” Pinkie mumbled in rejection. “Does anypony else have a piece that they’re willing to share, pretty please?”

All hope of getting in on the taffy craze was dashed as a chorus of no’s and sorry’s arose. It seemed that Ferrous’ saltwater taffy was too good to save, not that Pinkie would know though.

“Aw, don’t sweat it youngin’,” consoled an old mare who had taken to knitting during the standoff. “I wouldn’t take nothing from Ferrous anyway.”

Pinkie cocked her head to the side. “Really, how come? Everypony in town seemed to like her a whole lot!”

“Not everypony, just some. I reckon you ain’t from here, so let Miss Calico give you the rundown. Ferrous is nothing but a low-life cheater, who ran her saloon into the ground with all them crooked faro games,” Calico explained with a grimace.

“Huh? I don’t understand, why shut down her saloon? If her faro games were crooked, she could have just straightened them,” Pinkie offered, troubled that somepony lost their livelihood over such a minuscule transgression.

Another mare, who overheard the conversation, gave Pinkie a pat on the back and a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry about ole Calico here. She’s just mad that she almost lost her house last summer due to her lousy gambling.”

Calico scoffed indignantly, finishing a few stitches as she considered a response. “Oh, hush up Taps, I ain’t no lousy gambler! Ferrous was a lousy dealer. There's a reason why fights broke out at the Long Branch night after night. Thank Celestia Drudgery shut that down.”

“Ain’t no thanking Celestia for that Calico,” Taps disagreed. “Drudgery had no right to do that. First, he robs her of the election, then he shuts down her saloon.”

“It wasn’t a robbery, but you know what was? Think about it, Taps. Ferrous had all that money to hold a big campaign. Now I know that vagrant Shorty was pretty good at dealing, but even he wasn’t enough to support all that. They had to draw from… other means,” Calico proposed with a wild look in her eye.

“‘Other means?’” Pinkie asked, struggling to keep up but invested nonetheless.

“She’s just crazy hunny. Calico isn’t Calico if she ain’t spewing some conspiracy. She says all this, but I promise. If the Long Branch re-opened today, she’d be right back in her usual spot letting Ferrous ruin her night,” Taps explained.

“Well, that’s not gonna happen anytime soon at this rate. It took a bunch of ponies to band together to detain and exile that idiot. Now he’s back and dumber than ever. Forcing us hard-working citizens to sit and watch his revenge plot,” Calico scoffed indignantly.

“Wait! He’s doing all this for revenge? I thought he was trying to fix things, not hurt ponies!” Pinkie added.

“It's just about revenge sweetheart. Simple creatures like him don’t know how to think about anypony but themselves. Do you know how sad you gotta be that even Ferrous stops swindling you out of bits?” Calico grumbled.

“Well, that explains it, I guess,” Cranky muttered. “Hopefully somepony shoots somepony soon so we can get on with our lives.”

“Cranky, don’t say that!” Pinkie shouted.

Taps sighed and agreed. “No, I’m with him. It's getting late, and I haven’t even started dinner up.”

It seemed that other ponies were listening to the conversation as multiple sentiments of agreement were spoken. The crowd grew restless, and the actual participants of the stand-off took notice. They hadn’t done much up to this point other than stare at each other and glare.

Now was the time for decisive action. Drudgery knew that the citizens of Dodge were suffering and that their discontent hadn’t started at that moment. Many of them had been miserable for some time, and now he understood that they felt unheard.

It was time for Drudgery to make his choice, and so he chose to listen.

Drudgery cleared his throat, drawing all attention to himself. He spoke genuinely, “Alright Shorty, I reckon I’m ready and willing to hear you out. What are your demands?”

Taken by surprise, Shorty’s defensive stance weakened. He gawked at Drudgery incredulously before recovering his rugged persona.

Shorty cracked his neck. “Not much of my demands, but Representative Hardlicks. He said your new ordinances ain’t reasonable and that the folks of Dodge Junction deserve more of a say.”

“So, you want me to roll back the rules, and put them up to a vote?” Drudgery asked, relaxing as he did.

“Uh…yeah,” Shorty answered awkwardly.

There was a pause as all eyes fell on Shorty. The world seemed to stand still as every bystander and participant came to the same conclusion.

A single tumbleweed blew down the road as a lone eagle screeched in the distance, as Drudgery mustered the strength to ask, “Now Shorty, why couldn’t you have just asked me that in my office?”

Shorty’s expression suddenly turned blank as his gang turned to stare at him. The cogs in his head went into overtime as they tried to come up with a reasonable explanation.

“Ah-ah’m not too sure,” he admitted, losing confidence as he did. “Ah expected you’d put up more of a fight. Ah was told to come ready and armed in case you started something.”

Drudgery shook his head and sighed. “You were told to come here and start a conflict. I told you, son, you ain’t a player, you’re just getting played. Looks like somepony doesn’t want our little town to prosper.”

Both Drudgery’s and Shorty’s expressions softened as they came to an unspoken understanding. Their respective militias lowered and stowed away their weapons as the bystanders began to disperse.

“Well, shoot. Ah’m sorry for making such a fuss everypony,” Shorty apologized, trying to get through to any of his former hostages that might listen to him.

“No, I’m sorry son. I should have listened and given y’all more of a choice. This is our town after all. I want us all to work together. How about we form a committee and negotiate a peaceful resolution?” insisted Drudgery warmly, placing a hoof on Shorty’s shoulder.

The pair smiled at each other and shook hooves, unofficially ending the not-so-great Dodge Junction not-really-War. Both parties came together to put aside their differences in hopes of a better future.

“Well, looks like the Long Branch is back in business y’all! How about a night of fun at discounted prices! I got a couple of barrels of a special mix brewed in Canterlot!” Ferrous exclaimed, garnering a resounding cheer from everypony.

Ferrous started on her way, and ponies were quick to follow. Even Drudgery seemed up to going along as he spoke with Shorty. Cranky stood up and shook off the dust that had accumulated on him. He watched the horde traveling toward the saloon and figured he deserved a reward.

“Welp, I think I’ve earned myself a drink.”

Pinkie hopped up beside him and opened her mouth to say something but was suddenly rendered mute by the convulsing of her own body. Cranky took a few cautionary steps back as Pinkie trembled and quaked violently. When it finally ended, she fell onto her haunches with a dazed expression.

“Woah there kid. What was that!” Cranky yelled, partially worried that it might be contagious.

Pinkie shook her head and tried to stop her eyes from rolling around in her skull.

“I-I don’t know,” Pinkie mumbled breathlessly. “But, it felt like a doozy.”

Ch 7: The Third Bad Thing

It was like the Long Branch Saloon had never gone out of business. The building was packed and operating in full swing. The atmosphere of the saloon was celebratory as patrons drank, played, talked, and laughed in honor of a new day in Dodge Junction.

Ragtime music played on the out-of-tune piano, keeping the energy high with its quick tempo. Pinkie dodged and wove around and under the merry adults as they sang and danced.

Although her age kept her from engaging in the full experience, Pinkie was happy to share their joy. It wasn’t quite a party, at least Ferrous hadn’t said it was, but everypony seemed to enjoy it as if it were. To the aspiring party pony, it was an inspiration.

She studied the cheerful chaos with a careful eye and thought of her conversation with Cherry. The aftermath of the stand-off had shown Pinkie what the community looked like at its fullest. It was a stark contrast from the town that flipped their mood to negative at the drop of a hat.

“Partying is a state of mind,”Pinkie whispered to herself. “It’s like taking all your good feelings and sharing them with the world.”

Wow, I gotta write that down. Pinkie thought to herself, deeply impressed by her own philosophical thinking. She returned to her seat, a lone stool next to Cranky. After a few drinks, the donkey had found himself sucked into the high-stakes world of faro. Ferrous dealt the cards, giving and taking chips as she drew pairs from the deck.

Cranky sat at the table topped with green velvet and tried not to fixate on his pitiful earnings. He hadn’t won too many bets and was running out of time to redeem himself. Pinkie hopped on her seat and riffled through her saddle bag, searching for her guidebook and a pencil.

Cranky chuckled as he watched her pull out a sundial, a sponge, and a bag of marbles. She then shoved half of her body into the bag before emerging with her desired objects.

“I don’t know how you do it, kid. I’ve met many types of creatures, but few can do what you do. Never took you as the type to read during a shindig either,” Cranky noted while sipping his drink.

“Mh’m mot!” Pinkie declared with her pencil in her muzzle. She spat it out and opened A Foal’s Guide to Greater Equestria slowly. “I’m not reading, I’m writing.”

“Writing?”

“Yep,” Pinkie confirmed. “After some careful deliberation, I’ve concluded that this book is…”

“Stereotypical? Derogatory? Impressively offensive to about everyone and everything?” Cranky offered.

“In need of a little updating,” Pinkie finished. “It’s old and really wrong about a lot of things. Like how banned behaviors are actually fun and how donkeys are a lot more than a bunch of stubborn and simple herders. And sometimes taking revenge and hostages can be super useful! It needs a lot of tweaking, and I think I can do it!”

“Well, that sounds like a great idea kid,” Cranky affirmed, feeling much jollier than usual.

“Thanks! Would you like to be a co-author? I’m trying to think of titles. How about: 'An Expansive Exploration of the Customs and Cultures of the Various Creatures Inhabiting Greater Equestria, As Observed by one Pinkamena Diane Pie.'”

Cranky scratched his head. “I’m not too sure about being a co-author, but I think the title could use a bit of work.”

“Right, I’ll work on it,” Pinkie mumbled, already scribbling out new ideas.

Seeing Pinkie so focused caused Cranky to laugh again along with a few other players at the table. One of them was Calico, who proved herself a worthy opponent. Cranky found that she was a solid conversational partner when a little buzzed.

Calico took a sip from her mug, then gestured it toward Pinkie. “Your chikabiddy’s got a whole lot of quirks to her. Cute as a button though. Y’all planning on sticking around.”

“Oh, she ain’t mine,” Cranky clarified while placing a chip down on the six of hearts. “I’ll probably be sending her on her way soon. Speaking of which, have you seen Buffalo Bull or Calamity Jane?”

“You’re talking about those young performers? I think I saw the fella heading toward the inn after the stand-off. I haven’t seen much of the girl today,” Calico answered, moving her chip from the eight of hearts to three of diamonds.

“I heard that the fella got his heart broken this morning,” Ferrous informed them a little too enthusiastically. “He wrote a whole love song, and the gal booked it. He was stuck standing there with his guitar.”

Ferrous could barely finish her sentence before she broke out in a fit of giggles. A few of the other players joined in, but Cranky didn't find the humor in it. He sipped his drink and waited for Ferrous to draw. The saloon owner pulled two cards, the first of which was a six of spades. Cranky groaned and slapped his forehead.

“Better luck next time. Should’ve bet on five,” Ferrous quipped, plucking Cranky’s chip from the six of hearts.

Cranky grumbled as the others tried and failed to hide their amusement. It was time for the final round, and he wasn’t sure what to bet on. Three cards remained, and if he could correctly guess what order the numbers were drawn he could win a sizable amount back. After studying the cards drawn, he figured it would have to be three of clubs, four of spades, and ten of spades.

Pinkie wasn’t all too interested in faro. She preferred the runny and jumpy type of games, rather than the sit around and grumble type of games. She looked around the saloon and spotted Drudgery and Shorty, along with a few members of their respective militias, still deep in conversation. She hopped from her seat to head over, but Cranky stopped her with a question.

“Hey kid, pick an order for three, four, and ten.”

“My left ear is feeling a little dizzy, so go with four, ten, and three,” Pinkie instructed before wandering off again.

“You heard the girl,” Cranky announced, placing his remaining chips by the deck. “I’m calling the turn, all or nothing! Four, ten, three!”

The other players chuckled at Cranky’s sudden transition to outright recklessness. He sipped his drink and waited for the others to place their bets. Ferrous made a show of the final reveal, building up anticipation as she turned the cards. She flipped the four of spades, ten of spades, and three of clubs exactly.

“Well, would you look at that, the donkey rises once more. Looks like you know how to call 'em,” Ferrous complimented, doubling the amount of chips Cranky had bet.

Calico looked at Cranky incredulously and joked, “You weren’t kidding when you said she wasn’t yours! At least the kid actually knows how to win!”

Even if the other players were laughing at him once again, Cranky couldn’t bring himself to care. He scooped up his earnings in his hooves and rejoiced in his change in luck. Today was ending up to be a pretty good day.

At the other end of the saloon, Pinkie found a much more interesting distraction in the, newly established, Dodge Junction Peace Committee. Drudgery had made a point to pull up a chair for her, inviting the filly to sit by him. Although he did question why a filly was in a saloon at all, he was happy to have her company. He enjoyed seeing how delighted Pinkie became when he told her some good news.

“Shorty’s gonna be the new sheriff!” Pinkie cheered.

Shorty grinned as he spun his badge around on the table. “That’s right, kid. Ole Shorty’s on the up and up. We got a lot of deputies, but nopony to lead them.”

“And I figured it ought to be Shorty,” Drudgery added. “We don’t always agree, but he certainly loves this town as much as I do.”

Pinkie tapped the table in excitement. “Oh, that’s so wonderful! Everypony likes Drudgery again, Shorty gets to be home, and now everypony is happy!”

Shorty and Drudgery smiled at the simple, but endearing proclamation. Drudgery sighed and allowed his shoulders to shrug as he sank into his seat. For the first time in some time, he felt relaxed. Even if everything hadn’t gone his way, he knew that today would at least end well. But, right when he was starting to feel in the clear, Pinkie reminded him why he truly wasn’t.

“Oh,” she began, tapping her chin. “But what about your other friends? You know, the ones that stormed out of your office. They seemed pretty upset.”

Drudgery rubbed his eyes while Shorty looked at him curiously. “Ain’t nothing. Listen, darling, not everypony can be pleased. Those fellas were upset about the railroad, but it’ll be running again soon. I’m sure they’re just fine.”

“Okay,” Pinkie said, noticing the emphasis in Drudgery’s words. “I just hope everypony can be happy.”

“You got a good spirit, kid. Sweet enough to rot a tooth,” Shorty joked, ruffling Pinkie’s mane as he did. “How about I get you a root beer?”

Pinkie bit her lip anxiously, “I don’t know mister. That stuff is bad enough for grown ponies, little fillies really shouldn’t touch the stuff.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it kid. It ain’t got the type of stuff that makes adults all wacky. It just has a whole lotta sugar. You’ll like it, I promise,” Shorty assured before leaving to get Pinkie a drink.

Shorty eventually returned with a frosted mug brimming with freshly mixed root beer. The two stallions watched curiously as Pinkie took a tiny tentative sip. Her eyes became wide almost immediately as the flavors hit her taste buds.

It was sweet, sweeter than anything she had tasted before. Sweeter than rock candy or even Nana’s mud cookies. She couldn’t even shout or sing. She just wanted another taste.

“Told ya she’d like it,” Shorty gloated as Pinkie chugged her drink.

Always needing to be the voice of reason, Drudgery spoke, “Let's just hope she won’t get a sugar rush. Poor things gonna need rest after a long day.”

Shorty rolled his eyes, now understanding that being a wet blanket was just Drudgery’s nature. He was glad to be home, especially after years of knowing what it felt like to have none. After that level of isolation, even Drudgery’s quirks became an endearing part of living in Dodge Junction.

As the trio carried on in good cheer they were interrupted by a yell, and then a few more. All eyes fell onto the makeshift dance floor as a couple of ponies engaged in a heated argument. Seeing that things were escalating, Sheriff Shorty stood up and shouted out.

“Now, what’s got y’all in such a fuss! This ain’t the time to be doing all that!”

One of the stallions arguing managed to explain some of the situation through slightly slurred speech, “Grist is trying to dance with my marefriend!”

“I ain’t trying to dance with your marefriend!” rebutted the other equally drunk stallion, Grist. “I am dancing with your marefriend, and she’s dancing with me!”

As the two stallions literally butted heads, an exasperated mare broke them up. “She’s not your marefriend Chopper, I am. That’s Daisy’s marefriend!”

After seeing the two mares together, Pinkie had to admit they did look quite alike. Chopper scratched his head in deep confusion, letting himself be pulled away from Grist by his actual marefriend. Unfortunately, somepony still had to answer to Daisy.

“Hey! What are you doing dancing with my marefriend!” shouted, presumably, Daisy, who had just returned from the bar with more drinks.

Before the stallion or Daisy’s marefriend could speak, Chopper returned to the squabble with a definitive strike. He punched Grist, causing him to bump into a few other ponies.

“What is wrong with you, you marefriend stealer!” Chopper yelled, suddenly stricken by a righteous fury.

Shorty was quick to move as the situation got worse eerily quickly. Drudgery rose to join him, trying to calm the aggravated crowd. Pinkie backed up, searching for Cranky. It seemed that the donkey was looking for her too.

Cranky figured maybe it was a good time to leave as the altercation escalated into an all-out brawl. It was getting late anyway, and he still needed to find Buffalo Bull. He beckoned for Pinkie to follow him, deciding to head to the inn and check for Buffalo there first. If not, he could at least get Pinkie to bed then continue his search alone.

Despite the late hour, the streets were surprisingly lively, as the inhabitants celebrated the end of a mandated curfew. The night’s sky tinted the town in soft blues as the pair passed ponies smoking, lassoing, and licking salt.

For the first time, Cranky was happy to have Pinkie at his side. He didn’t think he had drunk much, yet he felt much the opposite. Perhaps his tolerance wasn’t what it used to be. Pinkie kept him steady as they trudged along silently, only stopping when she came to a shocking realization.

“I lost my marbles!” She shouted, shifting away from Cranky.

“Yeah, no kidding kid,” Cranky joked, impressed by his own comedic chops.

“I have to get them!” Pinkie shouted earnestly. “Marble gave them to me! I’m going back to Long Branch; I’ll be right back!”

Pinkie zipped away, leaving Cranky standing awkwardly and unstably in the street. He couldn’t quite think of anything to yell after her, so he just let her go.

“Guess I’ll wait here,” he muttered, plopping down onto his haunches against a storefront.

While he waited, ponies passed him on the street, engaging in previously banned behaviors. Two mares strolled down the street, and one of them spat at the ground, causing the other to cringe in disgust.

“Ew, would you quit that! It’s unsanitary!” shouted one of the mares.

The other mare shook her head, running her tongue over her gums. “Ain’t nothing wrong with purging what my body naturally makes. It was a stupid rule anyway.”

“It wasn’t stupid!” Her friend chided with a hoof stomp. “Flaming gum was spreading around town like, well, wildfire. Don’t you still have it!”

“I do, I do. I’ll feel bad about it when somepony goes around setting drool on fire,” grumbled the other mare sarcastically, before continuing. “Now quit yapping, we got some geese to look at! ”

The mares continued their walk, and two more silhouettes appeared from down the road. Cranky recognized Crowssbowjohn and Batsy approaching and tried not to look too disorderly in front of the new deputies. Luckily, they didn’t seem much better off by the looks of their wobbly steps. It appeared they had exchanged their namesakes, as Crossbowjohn swung around a bat and Batsy wielded a crossbow.

Crossbowjohn jerked the bat around, accidentally nipping Batsy in the hoof. She yelped, stopping in her tracks to yell at him.

“Watch it! Don’t just swing that thing around all willy-nilly. It requires a gentle touch, not that you would know anything about that heavy hooves,” Batsy admonished.

Crossbowjohn, clearly feeling no remorse, laughed. “Ha! You’re probably the only pony in all Equestria who’d say something like that while holding a crossbow. Any moron can swing a bat good, not too many can shoot!”

“Don’t be stupid. All you gotta do is aim,” Batsy demonstrated, cradling the weapon in the crook of her neck, “and shoot!”

The bolt fired from the crossbow down the street, colliding with a rock. Unfortunately, that wasn’t all it did. The impact caused the projectile to ricochet off of several items. It flew around wildly before zooming towards Batsy and Crossbowjohn. The pair ducked, allowing the bolt to fly overhead and hit the window of the storefront, shattering it. Cranky ducked his head as shards of glass exploded over him.

All three witnesses gawked at the scene, unsure how to process the near-impossible odds that led to the misfortune. While they stared, the owner of the store threw the door open and gasped at the destruction. Despite donning a sleep cap and night robe, he was wide awake.

“What in the Sam Hill happened here!” He yelled, growing red in the face. “Which one of y'all broke my window!”

“It was me, sir. I’m real sorry, I’ll get it fixed up as soon as I can,” Batsy offered awkwardly.

The store owner rubbed his face. “This is a mess. Ain’t y’all the deputies? How am I supposed to feel safe when Shorty and his degenerate friends are in charge!”

“Listen, we understand that you’re upset sir, but there's no need for name-calling. We’ll get your store fixed up first thing in the morning,” Crossbowjohn interjected, clearly irritated but trying to stay professional.

The store owner sighed and reached into his pockets, pulling out a match and cigar. As he tried to light it, he grumbled to himself.

“What is this world coming to? That railroad gets built, and next thing you know, the town is overrun by miscreants, burros, and cave dwellers.”

“Hey! I told you to quit it with the name-calling!” Crossbowjohn shouted as he gave the store owner a shove.

The store owner stumbled, dropping his lit match and cigar in surprise. Time seemed to slow as Cranky watched the match descend to the ground. After being silent throughout the entire altercation, he yelled as he scrambled back. The match hit the mixture of dirt and saliva underneath it and immediately burst into flames.

Cranky was much too busy trying to escape to see the chaos that was rapidly forming around him. The heat of the fire singed the back of his hooves as he ran. He could hear ponies screaming as the intense light grew behind him.

He fled into the darkness, attempting to outrun the deafening noise that disorientated him. His clumsy steps carried him through the alleyways, which stretched and expanded by an impossible degree. The newness of Dodge meant it still had many vacant and unfinished buildings, giving some corners of the town an eerie and ghost-like vibe.

Cranky’s world jostled and swirled wildly, causing him to bump and crash into the surfaces and objects that littered the desolate area. He tried to stay upright but inevitably tumbled down in exhaustion. He closed his eyes to stop the world from spinning and came to the terrifying realization that he was alone.

Unable to see in the darkness of the secluded area, he squinted his eyes and tried to use a nearby wall to guide his way. A war of thoughts was waging in his mind. He wanted to hide until things settled, but he also knew Pinkie was still out there. He was attempting to keep down the nausea bubbling in his throat when he heard soft voices in the dark.

In his state, the voices became like echoes. Echoes of something long gone, yet terribly missed. Something like family, or a friend, or the one true love of his life.

At any other time, the cautious and jaded donkey wouldn’t have sought the company of others. At any other time, Cranky would have minded his business and struggled in solitude. But at this time, something fundamental had shifted.

In search of some form of security, he traversed the dark, and instead of finding light, he stumbled upon something he was never meant to see.

He came upon a door and chose to slowly let himself in, pursuing the voices above all else. The room was empty aside from a few piles of lumber and scaffolding, indicating it was newly built and awaiting a purpose. The first voice that Cranky could clearly understand was a pleading and shaky one.

“You got what you wanted, right? You’ve got everything and everypony. You don’t need me. I promise I’ll never speak. I won’t say a word.”

“You promise?” somepony questioned with a scoff, “You dare make me one promise as you break another? Yes, I have just about everything and everypony, but that hold is founded on a mutual foundation. Do you know what that is?”

“I-I it’s u-” the first voice stuttered.

“It’s respect! Respect for those who are above you. Without it, all things crumble. You say you have a family. Guess what, everypony has a family! You are not special!”

Cranky involuntarily sank down as he listened closely to the second voice. Now that it was close, he recognized its arrogant and ruthless tone. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he realized it was Idler, probably berating Clipper Ship.

Cranky’s breath hitched, alerting Tramway, one of Idler’s poorly disguised royal guards, to look in his direction. The donkey pushed his face to the concrete, praying he wasn't seen. He dragged himself to the nearest lumber pile at an achingly slow pace.

“What!” hissed Idler, “What is it?”

Tramway could have sworn that he had heard something, but it was hard to distinguish anything in the darkness. He flexed his wings as he looked at his boss and his insufferable associate.

“Nothing sir, carry on.”

“Great, thanks for the go-ahead,” Idler muttered sarcastically, before continuing. “You know, it is because of you that I had to bring these two meatheads with me to this backwater town, right?”

“N-no! It is because of the railroad. You all came to get Drudgery!” Clipper Ship disagreed vehemently.

“You're somewhat right,” Idler admitted, “I came for the railroad, but they came to deal with you. It's an abominable embarrassment. To think, a muck-eater like Drudgery holds a higher social standing than you. You truly are nothing.”

“W-what… What do you mean? Deal with me? What are you on about?”

“Oh, dear. I truly understand you lack critical-thinking skills, but let's be serious,” Idler began in a mockingly sweet voice. “I, a high-ranking official, whisk you, a lowly pencil-pusher of a public worker, away to the middle of nowhere after instructing you to lie to everypony about your actual whereabouts. What do you think is going to happen?”

There was a scuffling of hooves as Clipper Ship stepped back. “You can’t. They’ll know. Somepony has to know! I’ll scream, somepony will come!”

“Who, your family? What could they possibly do? You vulgarians think this world will stop for you just because you teeter on the edge of the upper crust. This hick town won’t even care. If Ferrous followed our contingency plan, then this town is devouring itself by now.”

“You can’t just get rid of me.”

“Aw,” Idler cooed, “But I can. You said it yourself, I don’t need you. Ponies like you are easily replaced, and I’ll keep replacing you until I find somepony that works.”

A sense of dread began to consume Cranky as Clipper Ship rambled out a defense. It was a losing battle, and every soul in the room knew it. Clipper’s shouts grew louder and more desperate by the minute, causing Cranky’s blood to run cold.

It was too much to handle. Too much at any time, especially when he already felt so unstable. He cradled his head and shut his eyes in a confused attempt to make it all go away.

And then he felt something pushing up against his body. He looked to his side and was horrified to see the darkened but unmistakable figure of Pinkie Pie.

She had always had a way of finding him, even in places it should have been impossible to do so. She crawled up to him with her bag of marbles tucked under one hoof and a small smile on her face.

“Cra-”

Cranky covered her muzzle and pulled her close. She squirmed and looked at him curiously. Initially, she assumed that it was some intense game of hide and seek, but as she keyed into the tone of the argument, she too became still.

“I won’t speak of any of this, okay? I just want out, I want out!” Clipper shouted in despair, calling out to anything and anypony.

“You want out? Do you think you’ll be absolved because you had the decency to walk away first, even after you filled your pockets? You are not better than me. You are here because of your greed and your cowardice. You couldn’t even keep your feelings in check in Drudgery’s office!”

“This isn’t right!” Clipper cried. “Think about what you’re doing, is it worth it?”

“This is for the best. This way you won’t have to live out your days feeling guilty, and I don’t have to live out mine worrying about who that guilt might drive you to speak to. Don’t be scared, they will make this quick. I promise,” Idler explained simply.

“No! No! Let go of me! Please! Please!” Clipper grunted, audibly struggling against something.

Cranky’s muscles tensed as he attempted to control the violent tremors racking his body, uncertain if the shaking was his own. He could feel Pinkie’s tiny hooves gripping him with a jarring amount of strength. She was frightened but for a drastically different reason than he was.

She wanted to help him. Because that was who she was.

She was young, idealistic, and foolish. Cranky knew better, he knew he couldn’t fight them, and he knew he couldn’t reason with them. So, he pulled her even closer, practically covering her with his body. He could make out a bit of movement above the lumber pile, mainly the tops of heads. Against the walls, he could see shadows fighting and colliding.

“I’m thinking of purchasing your wife a flower arrangement to express my condolences. Would she prefer lilies or carnations?” Idler asked casually, impervious to the savagery before him.

Clipper Ship didn’t give much of a response, at least not much of a coherent one. He groaned and wept while the royal guards overpowered him. Even Cranky's limited view of the scene indicated there was no hope.

The donkey did the merciful thing and adjusted his hold on Pinkie to cover her eyes, even as she struggled against him. Maybe she couldn’t see anything in the first place, but he wanted to ensure she wasn’t haunted by the things he saw.

The pounding of Cranky’s own heart filled his ears, as everything came to a head. One of the guards exhaled, sending a wave of nausea washing over all in the room. Something ripped and cracked. A breath hitched and rattled.

The struggle came to an end.

The room became deathly quiet save for the heavy breathing of the exhausted guards. Clipper Ship had put up a greater fight than expected. Cranky breathed in unison with them, shaking off the encroaching numbness threatening to overtake his body. The donkey grimaced as he heard Clipper's limp body dropping to the floor.

“One of you will have to stay with it,” Idler instructed coldly. “The other will come with me to fetch Ferrous. She will clean this up for us.”

One of the royal guards, Stagecoach, frowned at this idea. He flicked the grime off of his previously pristine white hooves and asked, “Why can’t we just take care of this?”

“Because I said so. Ferrous is as sycophantic as they come. She would gnaw off her own hoof if it meant staying in my favor. She already gave out the goods I supplied her. The newly appointed head deputy is also her protege, she is protected here,” Idler explained.

Cranky needed to think of a way out, but fear and doubt paralyzed his mind. How could they leave quietly and without detection? Should they wait, or should they go? Should they have left sooner? How could he get him and Pinkie out? Did he have to get them both out?

He might spare the kid, Cranky thought. She was a child after all, and she was a child that essentially came from nothing. She had no wealth or influence to sling around. She was easily ignored, at least by anypony worth appealing to.

Cranky looked at the foal in his hooves, her face was shrouded in darkness, but in the glossiness of her eyes, he could see new emotions brewing. In Idler’s world, she wasn’t easily ignored, but easily disposable.

We have to go now, Cranky thought decisively. It was as good a time as any, especially since Idler had taken to complaining about the “dirt” on his hooves. Cranky sprawled out and used his forehooves to drag himself toward the doorway. He could only hope that Pinkie was following.

His euphoric anticipation reached new levels as the door grew closer at a painfully slow pace.

For an inkling of a second, he believed that he could make it, that he could be free of this and escape without a word. But then, he heard it.

His body convulsed and shivered as he heard the sound of something spilling all over the floor.

Something like dice or tacks.

Or marbles.

He turned his head to see Pinkie sharing the same horrified expression as she held her freshly spilled bag of marbles. The pair were frozen where they crawled, unable to process what had happened.

Idler, however, was much the opposite. He was quick to run towards the noise, a little too quick. His hooves went up while his body came crashing down. Marbles shot out and scattered under him, as he cursed and sputtered.

He looked up at them with burning amber eyes, igniting his horn to cast a spell. But, before his aura could build, Stagecoach and Tramway came rushing to his side, befalling the same fate, and collapsing into a pile.

“You imbeciles! Get up! One of you can fly for Celestia’s sake!” Idler screamed, failing to move the giant stallions off of him.

Seeing that Idler and his goons were incapacitated, Cranky took his chance to run. He scooped Pinkie up and tossed her on his back. He could feel her wrapping her hooves around his neck as he burst out the door, and into the alleyway. Unable to slow his momentum, he slammed into the wall, but he kept moving.

He ran recklessly, ignoring the haziness of his surroundings, in pursuit of any form of salvation. There were many times during his years of travel when he had to run for his life, but this was, without a doubt, the fastest that he had ever moved.

At the end of the alley, he could see light and a lot of smoke.

Ch 8: The Tower Crumbles

When Cranky and Pinkie returned to the town center, they found a disturbingly different scene than the days prior. Something strange had contaminated Dodge Junction. It seeped in through the cracks and festered there, infecting the unsuspecting inhabitants one at a time.

The first thing Cranky felt was heat from the fires that illuminated his surroundings. The smoke stung at his eyes and nostrils. The windows of various storefronts were left exposed, with shattered glass littering the area. The inhabitants ransacked and destroyed everything in sight.

Cranky did his best to dodge stray hooves from a nearby brawl. Around them, mobs engaged in all-out war. They fought and berated each other seemingly without cause. Whether they were drunk on substances or sheer hysteria was anyponies guess. All anypony knew was that there was a rising madness, a mass panic that spread like wildfire.

Cranky knew he had to run, but he had no idea where he could go. Whatever was causing all this was impacting him too, distorting his senses into an indecipherable mess. He was overstimulated and irritated. Only his fear placated him. He tried to navigate the blur with uneven steps, only finding direction in subtle pushes and pulls from Pinkie.

“Look, it’s Mayor Drudgery,” Pinkie mumbled weakly, breaking her longest silence yet, while pointing at Drudgery and Shorty.

The mayor and sheriff were just as bewildered by the pandemonium as Pinkie and Cranky. Although, Drudgery’s expression was much more determined while Shorty’s nerves were clearly getting the better of him.

“A-a-ah don-t understand,” Shorty bemoaned. “How could this happen? Everything was good! The bans were lifted, and all of us were happy!”

Shorty’s words were simple, but they elicited an intense reaction from the mayor. The older stallion grabbed Shorty by his vest and pulled him close, frustrated by his lack of courage.

“I ain’t ban those things because I’m a stick in the mud! I banned them because these ponies are fallible! There is something out there! You want to be sheriff? Then play your part and be the sheriff, help them!” Drudgery growled, pointing Shorty in the direction opposite of where he was heading.

They split up, running to whatever problem they could address first. Shorty blew past Cranky and Pinke, leaving the pair to feel hopeless and helpless. To make matters worse, Tramway soared out of the alleyway, zeroing in on Pinkie and Cranky. His white wings carried him over the flames and directly into a stray punch from none other than Buffalo Bull.

Buffalo, despite his beaten state, immediately recognized his mistake and quickly tried to help Tramway up. He pulled the bulkier stallion to his hooves, giving him a pat on the back.

“I’m real sorry about that. I’ve been having a bad day. I let it get the better of me. You could hit me back if you li-”

Buffalo’s attempt to make amends was cut short by Idler, who had wrapped his periwinkle hooves around Buffalo’s neck.

“You thought you could run from us? I won’t let that happen! You’re coming with me!” Idler ordered ferociously, lacking any of his characteristic composure.

“Leave him alone, you meanie!”

Cranky cursed himself as Pinkie stood defiantly on his back, having spoken those words before he could stop her. All of Idler’s, Buffalo’s, and Tramway’s attention was on the donkey and filly standing awkwardly to the side of their confrontation.

Idler slowly released Buffalo’s neck and pointed to Pinkie and Cranky, counting out, “One. Two. I saw two in the dark. There were two witnesses.”

Pinkie swiftly grabbed a hold of Cranky as the donkey booked it down the road. Idler and Tramway were hot on their hooves, leaving Buffalo deeply confused with a sore neck.

The only good thing about the crumbling of Dodge Junction was that it was easy to get lost in the chaos. Even Tramway, a pegasus and highly trained royal guard, failed to catch the elderly donkey and foal in the haze. Cranky used it to his advantage, weaving through the mobs until he saw the heavenly visage of one of Dodge Junction’s new deputies.

Crossobowjohn was holding his crossbow once more and was fiercely guarding a business with its door ripped from its hinges. Anypony who came close was threatened with an aggressive jerk of his crossbow. He stood alert, looking around wildly as Cranky ran to him. Before Cranky could even speak, Crossbowjohn made it apparent that he wasn’t going to be helpful.

“There you are!” Crossbowjohn shouted, approaching Cranky with his weapon. “Stop right there. Get on your haunches and put your hooves in the air!”

Cranky stopped in his tracks, giving Crossbowjohn a confused look. His mouth hung open as the deputy made it apparent that he wasn’t joking. Cranky wanted to run, but Crossbowjohn’s weapon was dangerously close to his face. He could feel Pinkie hesitantly letting him go as he lowered himself to the ground.

“Criminals always come back to the scene of the crime!” Crossbow announced. “You done went and started all these fires, and now you’re gonna pay!”

Idler and Tramway arrived while Crossbowjohn was tying Cranky up with rope. The disheveled unicorn looked at the pair with a mixture of disdain and mania. He brushed his disheveled mane back with a hoof and stepped beside Cranky.

“I must say, it is a pleasure to see an officer of the law do his job. This rotten burro and this little delinquent have been terrorizing me and my colleague here,” Idler stepped closer to Crossbowjohn, giving him a winning smile. “You know, perhaps we can take them off your hooves? I assure you that you will be…compensated handsomely.”

Crossbow stepped back, eyeing Idler suspiciously. “I ain’t ever seen you before. What you mean by that? You trying to bribe an officer of the law?”

“No, no!” Idler dismissed with a laugh. “I simply want to make a deal with you.”

Crossbowjohn scoffed, placing the rope over Cranky’s head as a makeshift lead. He immediately began tying two new slipknots. He sneered at Idler, clearly disgusted by the unicorn’s audacity.

“Like I’d trust a silver-tongued snake like you! You wanna make a deal? Deal with this, y’all are under arrest!”

Idler and Tramway looked completely flabbergasted as Crossbow tightened the lead around their necks. He gave the rope a test pull, smirking at the sight of three stallions bending to his will. He began tugging on the rope gang until he felt a pair of tiny pink hooves pushing against his chest. Crossbow looked down with scorn at the little filly staring at him intensely.

“He didn’t do anything! If you’re gonna arrest him, well you’re gonna have to arrest me too!” Pinkie squeaked out, enraged by the injustice.

Crossbowjohn gave the filly a quick look before matter-of-factly declaring, “Fine then, you’re under arrest too little filly.”

He hastily made a tiny lead, and placed it around the little filly’s neck. As he fastened the miniature restraint to Cranky’s, Pinkie’s ears folded back in dismay.

“Awww,” she whined with a pout and a hoof stomp.

The deputy pulled the group along, using his crossbow to threaten anypony who got in his way. Cranky tried not to look at his fellow prisoners since half of them wanted him dead, and a quarter of them was unintentionally going to get him there.

Cranky had been imprisoned a few times throughout his life. He had to admit, a few of those times, it was very much his fault. But, usually, it was the product of an unfair system. At the moment, he wasn’t sure where this stay fell, but it definitely felt unique.

The first thing he noticed was the relatively small size of Dodge Junction’s jail, its lack of equipment, and the absence of an actual booking system. It was understandable since Dodge had a small population and wasn’t even a town a few years ago. Like most small territories, discretions were probably punished with exile up until now.

Two small cells took up a majority of the one-room building. They were separated by a brick wall. Aside from the cells, the police station had a single desk and a window, allowing one to hear the continued mayhem outside.

Another thing Cranky noticed was that he was jailed with Pinkie. Not that he was complaining or anything. Even Pinkie was better than two ponies actively trying to murder him. The tension between the four was noticeable enough that Crossbowjohn decided to split them and put two in each cell.

The deputy didn’t stick around too long after tying up Tramway’s wings and placing a spellbinder on Idler’s horn. Cranky feared these measures might be inadequate since highly skilled unicorns could easily fry a spellbinder, and royal guard members had intensive training.

Cranky’s suspicion was only half correct. After Crossbowjohn left, Tramway flexed his massive frame and freed himself, while Idler proved himself to be an averagely unskilled unicorn. Cranky couldn’t actually see either of his adversaries, but he could definitely hear them.

Tramway considered finding a way to escape, but Idler approached the situation with his usual arrogance and laziness. He hoof-waved the problem, ensuring Tramway that somepony, whether it be Stagecoach or Ferrous, would free them soon. To him, it was better to be behind bars than out in the streets, and Cranky, strangely enough, had to agree.

There was a nauseating sense of calm in those jail cells, like the numbness one gets before going on a stage or public speaking. An anxiety and nervousness slightly alleviated by the understanding that the hard part is yet to come.

In this case, the hard part was what happened when all the prisoners were released from their cages. It was a dire situation, and Cranky, who had survived a great deal, wasn’t sure how to make it out. Pinkie didn’t seem much better.

She lay not too far from where he sat, hiding behind a curtain of her own straightened mane. She was so still that he couldn’t tell if she was awake. She fidgeted occasionally, twitching randomly as flashes of orange and white poured in from the window.

Cranky closed his eyes, hoping to find some peace in the bleak circumstances. A part of him wanted to fight, but it was hard to muster the strength to do so. In retrospect, perhaps this was all inevitable. He always considered previous misadventures as something to be proud of, but maybe it was all an omen.

An omen that he was a failure.

An omen that he should give up.

An omen that it was never meant to be.

It was becoming harder to see a method to all the madness. To understand why he continued searching if it left his life in shambles. If there ever were a reason for this, he really needed the universe to send him a sign. But if life had taught him anything, it was that the universe would never care about something as small and insignificant as him.

“Now, how did y’all two rascals end up behind bars?” questioned a sweet, but exasperated voice.

Cranky and Pinkie looked up to see the dirtied but memorable face of Cherry Jubilee beaming at them through the bars.

“What are you doing here?” Cranky questioned as his heart raced.

Cherry laughed lightly, playing with a strand of her mane. “I saw somepony bringing y’all in. I thought this might be a safe house for foals and geezers. Imagine my surprise when I saw y’all was getting booked!”

“Trust us, we were just as surprised as you,” Cranky admitted, he came as close to the bars as possible and whispered. “Any way you can get us out of here? The two fellas next to us are nothing but trouble, so we gotta be careful. We saw Buffalo on the way here. We can all get out together.”

Cherry’s expression flattened as she listened to the desperation in Cranky’s voice. She suspiciously eyed the adjacent cell, understanding it was best not to be seen by those inside. She gave Cranky a resolute nod before crouching and sneaking out of sight.

Idler’s smug tone wafted from the other cell. “Who's that? A friend of yours? Here to rescue all of us I hope.”

Cranky sneered at the comment, suppressing the urge to respond with an equally snarky comment. He gripped the bars tightly until Cherry returned with a key.

“Leaving so soon?” Idler bemoaned with mock disappointment. “You could at least tell us your name before you go. Or maybe you could let us get a good look at you without all that dreadful smoke. Anything to remember my new friends with.”

Cherry glanced warily at the adjacent cell as she finally opened the door. “I see what ya mean. That fella talks too much.”

As they came upon the front door of the town jail, Tramway began slamming against the bars in an attempt to escape. Cherry led the way with Cranky close behind, but Pinkie suddenly stopped. She looked on aimlessly as the chaos swelled around her.

Cranky, against his better judgment, turned around and spoke urgently, “Come on kid, we gotta go!”

With her brows furrowed and frown apparent, Pinkie shook her head defiantly, “But Cranky! How come we get to leave? I mean, I didn’t like being in there, but it's not fair! I think we all need to talk to the deputies, especially those stallions!”

Cranky could feel his heart racing but ignored his trembling to place a comforting hoof on Pinkie’s shoulders. He spoke as sweetly as his gruff voice allowed, “Listen kid those stallions are no good. They deserve to be in jail. Heck, they deserve to be under the jail. We gotta get away from them, so let’s get the Heck out of Dodge.”

Cranky stared into Pinkie’s eyes, waiting to see if she understood the situation. Her expression was blank, the words seemingly failing to resonate before she swallowed and nodded.

Cranky nodded back and looked around, they were missing somepony. “Where’s Cherry? She was just with us a minute ago! We need her.”

“Hey!” The pony in question shouted from a distance ahead of them, having continued on while Pinkie and Cranky stopped. “What are y’all doing! We need to move!”

“We know that! Hold on a second!” Cranky shouted as he tried to goad Pinkie along. “Come on kid. Let's go.”

But Pinkie refused to budge. She placed her hooves on Cranky’s chest, trying to stop him from moving. “We can’t. Somethings going to fall, Cranky!”

Cranky looked at the filly with disgust, having lost all his patience. “Wha- What the hay is wrong with you! Can’t you see that we’re in danger! Ain’t it enough that you got us into thi-”

“Sweet Celestia, you two look out!” Cherry warned with a blood-curdling scream.

The jarring proclamation silenced the old donkey, leaving him stunned and confused. But, Pinkie was already on the move, crashing her tiny body into the donkey. The two of them were hurled clumsily to the ground, causing dirt and smoke to enter their lungs.

Between the sound of Cherry’s screaming and Pinkie’s powerful shove, Cranky finally had to sense to look up. His jaw dropped as he lay paralyzed. The entire front frame of an unfinished and burning townhouse was coming down on them.

He ducked his head as he felt Pinkie ineffectively cover him. A massive cloud of dust and embers erupted around them. When the dust finally settled, they were curled up in a fetal position, thoroughly shaken yet safe.

Cranky looked on in awe. Pinkie had thrown them in the best position given the time, a cutout in the fallen townhouse where a window was yet to be installed. Had Cranky been anywhere else, he would have been crushed. How Pinkie could have possibly responded so decisively was a mystery to him.

Cherry was equally surprised; she slowly lowered her hooves from her eyes. She was on the verge of running to them when she was swept up in a mob of ponies fleeing.

“Run, run! Sompony disturbed the geese, somepony disturbed the geese!”

Cherry looked toward the fleeing crowd and spotted a flock of geese with canine-like teeth and serpentine necks and tongues. The creatures flared their wings, revealing feathers as sharp as razor blades. They followed the crowd, nipping at their hooves as they honked at a deafening level.

A kind bystander pulled Cherry along, sweeping her into their retreat. If that wasn’t enough disorder, from the smoke escaped a trio of ponies. One of them was none other than Rusted Peddler, who carried more goods upon his back than he arrived with.

The stolen loot was stacked high on the trio's backs and threatened to spill from their saddlebags. The salespony and his cohorts galloped past Cranky and Pinkie, but he took the time to call out.

“Move it weirdos! I’ve got bills to pay!”

Rusted and his gang disappeared again, but their crime hadn’t gone unnoticed by the law. Somehow, they had brought the worst possible pony with them. Crossbowjohn fired a warning shot after the three as he came upon the fallen townhouse.

The deputy’s pursuit of the thieves ended as soon as he locked eyes with Cranky. He pointed his weapon at them with a scowl.

“Now how did y’all escape? Y’all are real bad apples ain’t ya. Maybe that snake and his muscle head were right. We don’t need any more troublemakers making a mess of things!”

Crossbowjohn only got a few steps closer to the pair when a stallion tackled him at full speed. They wrestled atop the debris, giving Cranky and Pinkie the perfect opportunity to run.

The pair bolted away, moving as fast as their sore bodies could muster. In the distance, they spotted more deputies trying to corral a group away from Town Hall. Thoroughly disillusioned, the two chose to hide, darting into a nearby alleyway.

As they waited, a shadow appeared on the wall, frightening Cranky and Pinkie to their cores. Cranky did his best to look big and in control, standing firm and ready for battle. The owner of the shadow was beaten and covered in soot, yet his eyes were still kind.

It was the pony who had tackled Crossbowjohn. It was a Buffalo Bull. He spat forcefully and wiped his brow with a reddened hoof.

Buffalo nodded at Pinkie and asked, “Y’all two saved me right? It was mighty brave of you to speak up. Sorry that meanie chased after you and your friend. I’m fixin to get outta here, how about y’all come with? I got a wagon I can pull y’all in. How about it?”

Pinkie rested her head against the paneling of Buffalo Bull’s cart as it hurtled across the uneven terrain. She would have preferred to run alongside the stallion, but he had insisted that she and Cranky rest while they could. This left her with nothing to distract her troubled mind, forcing her to replay the many things she had seen that night.

She studied her hooves closely, seeing numerous blisters and cuts, but not feeling any of them. The physical pain couldn’t amount to things she struggled to comprehend.

Something dark and cruel was emerging on the horizon of her mind. Like the sunrise, it shrouded all things in its tinted colors, framing and reframing everything she saw and perceived. With each uneasy thought, memories replayed repeatedly.

In her mind, marbles spilled, littering the floor over and over again. Pinkie shook violently at the sound and covered her ears to make it stop.

“I-I left them, I left them behind… my marbles.”

Cranky looked at Pinkie in bewilderment. That is what she cares about, he thoughtcynically. He was tired, so incredibly tired. Yet, he was forced to put up with this kid.

“You can just get new ones.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. They can’t be replaced. My little sister made them just for me, they’re special! Special things can’t be remade. Once they’re gone, they’re gone forever,” Pinkie insisted out of breath.

She recalled the sight of her marbles scattered across the floor. And with that recollection came the memory of what else lay there. Discarded, forsaken, alone. The figure of Clipper Ship was splayed out in the darkness.

She remembered the sobering sound of Clipper Ship’s cries. They echoed throughout, piercing her breaking heart as she reimagined his suffering from the shadows of his demise. She fought to penetrate the silence that threatened to suffocate her.

“It was all so bad! I don’t understand it! Why wouldn’t they stop? Clipper Ships is… he…Cranky…is Clipper Ship,” the words faded as Pinkie’s expression darkened.

Cranky knew what she meant, it was written all over her face. It was a grief she was never meant to bear, not yet at least. Cranky didn’t want that for her. He would have done anything to still see the world like she did.

Her life was filled with endless excitement and boundless possibilities. She had hope and an immense love for those around her. Everything was new and wonderful to her.

That needed to be protected, and Cranky needed to be protected too.

Cranky swallowed, he finally had an opportunity to choose after days of being forced into situation after situation. In this life, there are many choices to be made. The choice to leave home. The choice of what path to take. The choice to do wrong. The choice to be complacent.

As Pinkie looked up at Cranky with desperate eyes, placing the weight of her very innocence upon his jaded shoulders, he made his choice.

He lied.

He shook his head, smiling softly at her. “No. You couldn’t see too well, but he was still breathing. That’s why we have to leave and find somepony trustworthy, to get help for him. They were just roughing him up to teach him a lesson, you know?”

Pinkie looked up at him with watery eyes, reaching into Cranky’s very soul in search of the truth. He gave his all not to shudder, not to let the truth slip. They studied each other, and Cranky watched as she accepted his narrative.

She looked away, with her innocence protected and childhood salvaged. Pinkie, his greatest liability, believed him because she thought it was always worth it. She nodded slowly, trusting the only friend she had ever had outside her family.

“Okay Cranky,” she accepted as her mane began to curl. She waved a quivering yet triumphant hoof in the air and proudly declared. “We’ll go somewhere and get Clipper Ship help!”

Cranky did his best to smother the cringe invading his features. She spoke with such confidence. A hero on the verge of an epic quest. But Cranky knew better. There were no heroes here, and there was nopony left to save. Cranky sighed deeply, wondering how long it would take for Idler to give up on finding them.

Pinkie gasped, sitting upright. “Oh no, Cranky! We left Cherry! We have to go back! Buffalo doesn’t know she loves him too!”

The realization struck Cranky too, eradicating all of his other worries for the moment. He hadn’t seen Cherry since their separation at the townhouse. Once they found Buffalo, they fled without another thought. She was probably still searching for the three in the chaos.

Coward. He thought before answering, “Don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll be just fine. If she and Buffalo really love each other, they’ll find each other.”

“You think so?”

No. Cranky thought bitterly before lying again, “Of course. Even if they don’t. She’s tough, she'll survive.”

Cranky swiftly looked away, more troubled by this deception than any lie he had told up to this point. A new silence arose between the two. In the absence of speech came the ambient sound of a new day rising on the horizon.

There was an emptiness that burned away with Dodge. It was accompanied by an indescribable sense of loss. The loss of something which could not be recovered or fixed.

Perhaps this new day would bring about better circumstances for the town as the smoky sky cleared and the sun shined down anew. Maybe, the inhabitants would awaken to their own barbarity and rectify the mistakes they could.

But for now, all that Cranky and Pinkie knew was that they could never return.