An Old Apple Friend

It was a wonderful Saturday afternoon. The sky was a mighty blue, and was rarely bothered by clouds. The sun shone down on Ponyville like it was a shadow in the open. A dirt road ran through the grass and divided the trees on each side. The air above the road glimmered with heat like angry ocean waves. Rabbits and Squirrels ran through the tall grass, mazing in and out of it rapidly. Butterflies gently flew through the air, acting with the wind like a leaf caught in an updraft.

The peace was disturbed, as a rumbling started to pass through the ground, the Critters in the long grass stopped, and set their eyes down the dirt road. A slight dust cloud was kicked up by four wooden wagon wheels running slowly along the road. As the rumbling got closer, the critters scattered and ran off into taller grass, trying to escape the peace disturber rattling along the road. Sat upon the wagon wheel chaise was a grey wooden cart. The paint on the door hinges was crusty and faded, and the windows covered with dust, making it hard to see into them.

The cart slowed down and eventually stopped along the dirt road. The Stallion pulling the cart gave out an almost everlasting Puff. Perspiration dripping from his head, as it lowered towards the ground, heavy from exhaustion. After a few seconds trying to catch his breath, the Stallions head raised and turned left, facing the corner of the cart.

“Here we are buddy, time to ge’d up” He said in a slow slur, calling out to the Pony in the cart. The stallion had a chance to blink a few times before the cart began to rustle. The weight in the cart shifted towards the left, and the lock on the door was lifted, letting it swing open. As the door swung, the Crusty and faded hinges let out a high pitch wine, killing the silence in the open for the precious amount of time that it did. A hoof rested on the step of the door, followed by another. The hoofs rested there, not moving and not heavy. The first hoof moved forward and down, laying itself on the ground. The dirt, dust and pebbles made a satisfying crunch under the weight of it. Again, followed by the second hoof then the third and fourth, each hoof making the same sound as it hit the dirt.

A Stallions head peered out of the doorway, looking slowly across the landscape, scanning for evidence that they reached the right destination. The head stopped and turned to the Stallion at the front of the cart.

“That ’a be 38 bits” the Cart puller said after his breathing had calmed down.

The Stallion stepped further away from the cart, from under the roof, letting the sunlight finally hit his back and mane. His head once again turned to the landscape in the distance. He shut his eyes and inhaled the fresh air that surrounded him. A satisfying sigh came from deep in the stallion’s lungs. He had longed for that First breath of county air, different from city air, and certainly different from the stale air inside the cart.

“Buddy” said the cart puller flatly. Making the Stallion open his eyes and turn his head. He stared blankly at the cart puller, waiting for him to speak

“38 bits” he repeated, with a slightly knaggier tone. The Stallion dropped the faded green duffle bag flung over his back and rummaged around in one of the compartments, he pulled out a bag of bits, he gathered together the required 38 bits and hoofed them to the Driver, who looked down at the 38 bits, and then lifted his head towards the Stallion, his eyebrow raised. The Stallion rolled his eyes and reached further into the bit bag, flinging him two more bits. The Driver then proceeded to drop them into the box implanted in the woodwork on the side of the cart.

“Much oblige, so long” the cart started moving again as the driver trotted off down the road. The wheels making a constant crunch noise rolling on the dirt. The cart slowly disappeared from sight as it got further and further away from the stallion standing at the road side.

The stallion was tall, and his head was straight, not slouching. His coat was a dim white, showing signs of light grey. Groomed and clean. His wings were tucked by his sides, no feather out of place, all in line and smooth. His mane was long, flowing in the air whenever a breeze passed him, it was Egyptian blue and Coal black. The two colours in his mane did not separate or boarder, they intertwined with each other. His mane also groomed and clean. His left ear was torn at the top, although it was healed, it was still pointy and dark in some places. His eyes were squinted and sensitive to the open sunlight. They were pale marina blue, although they were pale, they were still the first things you noticed when you saw him up close.

He walked every stride with purpose, or at least made it look like it. One hoof paced in front of the other As he ventured to the other side of the road, the crunch noise being made with every step. His eyes met with the Arched Sign hanging over a path leading off and over the hills, the chains holding the sign wade and squeaked in the wind. He gently came to a halt, his eyes still gazed upon the sign;

“SWEET APPLE ACRES”

A slight smirk sat upon the stallion’s face, his heart beat slowed to a relaxing rate and his breathing became calmer. He proceeded to walk under the sign and down the path, leading to Sweet Apple Acres. As he did so, thoughts started to pass through his head, thoughts about his last visit here. Thoughts about how he’d waited for this day to happen again. Thoughts about the closest thing he could call family.