Chapter 1 - Growing Up
Ponyville. That was his hometown. That was where he had lived all of his life, and at the time, he couldn't see himself living anywhere else. The timber-framed, thatch roofed houses, the colorful marketplace stalls, and the rolling hills were all quite magical. In that small town, everypony knew each other, and life was simple.
That changed after the Summer Sun Celebration. Like other townsfolk, Tinker was excited for the event. The honor was great, and he did his part to help set up the event perfectly. Of course, the event was not as perfect as he had hoped for. The disappearance of Princess Celestia and the arrival of Nightmare Moon had been soul crushing. Six ponies had promised to find a solution to the problem before suddenly leaving, but the venture seemed hopeless. At least until the sun rose.
The defeat of Nightmare Moon had catapulted the bearers of the Elements to fame. Ponies came from far and wide to see the saviors of Equestria. The money from tourism and increased trade caused Ponyville to expand greatly. The town quickly became known for far more than its agricultural marvels. The Bearer's following adventure only helped the town grow ever more in later years. Like all residents of Ponyville, Tinker regarded the Bearers of the Elements as heroes.
He had seen them before of course. It was impossible to live in Ponyville without attending one of Pinkie Pie's parties, which were events that all of the Bearers attended when they could. It was not long before Tinker saw birthdays as a chance to meet the Six all in one room rather than receive presents.
Years before the Canterlot Riots, Tinker was still just a colt, and just a few hooves away from becoming a stallion. He had finished his studies, and was ready to become a productive member of society. Tinker secretly wished he could get into adventures like the Bearers did when he was just a foal. He occasionally told close friends of dreams he had. Ambitions to better the world, like the Bearers did. As he grew, he realized he would never become the adventurers like the Six. He never gave up his dream though. He would better the world. Not through physical skill, magical prowess, or outstanding charisma. He would better the world with his technology…
The Running of the Leaves began just three days before his birthday. It was comfortably warm outside, and the trees were all wonderful shades of yellow and red. Tinker had been working in his father’s shop the entire day, struggling to finish repairing a stove that had somehow exploded for the Cakes. Tinker grunted as the final bolt was tightened in place. He closed the stove door and stood back, a smile plastered on his face.
Tinker felt a hoof slap his back. “Good job. Couldn’t have done it better myself.”
Tinker turned towards his father, his face reddened. “Thanks, Dad, but I’m sure you’re lying.”
The burly stallion in front of Tinker laughed. “Perhaps, but it is good work.”
Tinker’s father stopped laughing and his face straightened out. "In all seriousness son, I'm proud of you. Not just this, either, but all of your progress so far. You've some learning to do, but I feel you're finally ready for this."
The fur on Tinker’s neck bristled. Tinker’s father pulled a blueprint from his saddlebags. A faint, silver aura surrounded the blue paper as it floated towards the workstation. Tinker's father unrolled it across the sturdy brown table. Tinker stared at the paper for several long seconds.
“Is this...?”
Tinker’s Dad nodded. “Your own workshop.”
“YES!” The young stallion exploded into the air, his wings flapping wildly. He had his hooves wrapped tightly around his father, thanking him profusely.
"Alright, alright, squirt," said Tinker's Dad, returning the hug. "These are just floorplans, though. It still needs to be built. I figured we could work on it in the afternoons and on the weekends."
Tinker lowered himself to the floor. "Sorry. I'm just surprised. My own workshop? This is amazing!"
"Yeah, well, we'll start on it tomorrow. It's late. The earlier you get to bed, the earlier we can get up and get started."
“What about that?” asked Tinker, pointing a hoof towards the stove. “We gotta return it.”
Tinker’s Dad waved a hoof. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll return it in the morning. Now get to bed. You want your shop, don’t you?”
Tinker dashed out of his father's workshop and into the house that was connected to it, pumping his wings as hard as he could. The next two minutes were a blur of rushed teeth-brushing and changing into pajamas. Tinker jumped into bed, and yanked the blanket over himself. He closed his eyes, grinning and kicking his hooves excitedly. He attempted to lie still, but found that he could not quite fall asleep.
Hours passed, and Tinker stopped trying to fall asleep. His eyes were wide open, staring into the ceiling above him. Life was great. In a few days, Tinker would be a full-grown stallion. He would soon get his own workshop, and continue his father’s business long into the future. It seemed so overwhelming. Tinker shut his eyes and pictured himself in a wooden room filled to the brim with all kinds of equipment and machines, building strange devices nobody had ever seen or thought of before. It was glorious.
A bright light tore Tinker from his fantasy. He looked out of his window, and a deep, distant boom followed shortly after the flash. He shot up, his head pressed against the glass. In the distance, beyond the treeline that lead into the Everfree forest, Tinker could see smoke rising into the sky.
Tinker looked at his clock. It read three. He bit his lip and opened the window. Tinker craned his neck out of the window to see what might have created what seemed like an explosion. It was impossible to see what caused the noise through the thick foliage. Tinker debated in his head whether to check it out or not.
“I still have some time before morning...” he whispered. “…Can’t sleep anyhow.”
His curiosity getting the better of him, Tinker crawled through his window and began flying towards the forest. Tinker passed over the dark-leaved trees that made up most of the Everfree Forest, his eyes pointed at the source of the smoke. When he reached the billowing black cloud above the trees, he noticed that he could not see what was below, save for the bright light of a fire. Tinker moved out of the smoke, and descended below, careful to avoid any branches. He scanned the area around him before he landed, making sure anypony, or anything was not around. When he was sure it was clear, he dropped down onto the ground.
Tinker pushed through the bushes and move around the trees in front of him. When he saw the source of the smoke, his mouth dropped. In front of him was a large, grey object. Fire and black smoke poured from the back of the thing. Tinker moved closer and pressed a hoof against it. It was metal. “What kind of machine is this?”
Tinker lifted himself off of the ground to look at the top of the gigantic machine. He could see what appeared to be an elongated dome of glass. It was badly cracked, which prevented a clear view of the inside. He moved himself close to a section with a large hole, and peeked inside. There appeared to be a chair inside of the dome. Something was sitting in the chair, slumped over on the many buttons and dials that covered the inside of the dome. Tinker could see that it was wearing cloth. It was quite large for a pony, and it wasn’t moving. He gingerly pressed into the cloth with a hoof. It did not move. He was certain he could feel flesh underneath the cloth, so he pressed again this time, harder. The machine seemed severely damaged, and it could be that the thing was hurt. The cloth heap fell to the side, its metal head banging against the buttons and dials.
“Hey!” Tinker called out, shaking the cloth-covered thing. “Are you okay?”
It still did not respond. Tinker grabbed it, and turned what he assumed was its head towards him. In the firelight, Tinker caught a glimpse of red beneath the tinted, cracked glass covering its face, and only now did he notice the scarlet stain covering its front. Tinker let go of whatever it was and backed up, his face stricken with horror.
“Oh Sweet Celestia,” he breathed. “It’s dead.”
Tinker tasted rising bile in his throat, and backpedalled off of the machine. He pressed his teeth together, and the feeling subsided for a few seconds before coming back once more. It was too strong for him to resist, and so he vomited into the grass below. After a few minutes of spitting, Tinker left, speeding back towards Ponyville.
