Pony Fanfiction Thread

It was a scorcher of a day in Appleloosa. Hot enough that everypony was in their homes or in the saloon, any sort of building that could provide shade and cool drinks. Everypony felt lazy and some of the more heat-sensitive ones a bit sick. Even the apple orchard looked bad, the trees appearing sickly and brown. The wind was no help either; it was hot and dry, not pleasant in the slightest.

In town, one pony in particular lay on the porch outside the saloon, one leg hanging over the edge and another tucked under his chin while the others were curled up near his haunches. Braeburn’s eyes were half shut; the earth pony’s normally smiling face morose and tired-looking. It wasn’t just the heat; Braeburn was bored. All the trains that came in today were cargo trains; nopony was coming in on them but the pullers, who all immediately went to the saloon anyway to get a drink, not stopping to talk. Sheriff Silverstar himself was in the town jail, enjoying a fancy new desk fan that had come from Manehattan ahead of the shipment of ceiling fans that the rest of the town was supposed to get. He’d had to lock the door to keep from being mobbed by other townsponies.

A short distance away from Appleloosa, on top of a hill, another pony stood. One of the larger stallion breed, he wore a tattered cloth poncho over his tan coat in addition to a cowboy hat on his head. Through one of the tears in the poncho, a tumbleweed cutie mark was visible on his flank. The stallion’s half-open blue eyes looked down at Appleloosa, and he began to walk down towards the town, more specifically to the only pony he could see in the streets.

Braeburn had taken his hat off and laid it beside him, exposing his somewhat messy orange mane as he pondered whether he should go to sleep or not. That question was answered with a resounding “No” as a gust of wind caught his hat, blowing it off the porch. The vest-wearing earth pony sat up and scrambled to his feet, running after his hat as it blew past the town limits.

“Hey, now! C’mon back here!”

The hat finally hit a counterbreeze, being forced to a stop where it began to sink to the ground, leaving Braeburn to slide forward on his belly to grab it. As he put it back on his head and breathed a sigh of relief, he noticed that he was at the feet of another pony. Looking up, he saw a pair of blue eyes looking down at him. The stallion raised an eyebrow, causing Braeburn to laugh sheepishly.

“Ehehehe…sorry ‘bout that, sir.” He stood up. “But anyways, howdy! M’name’s Braeburn, and welcome to-“ (Here he reared back, waving his front hooves in the air as he pointed his head to the sky) “AAAAAAAAAAAPLELOOSA!”

The stallion raised an eyebrow again, not saying anything. Braeburn, now unnerved by the newcomer’s silence, gave another nervous laugh. “Eheh…eh…erm…” He swallowed. “So, uh…kin I help you with anythin’?”

“Do you know where I can get a drink?” the stallion asked in a surprisingly gravelly voice. Not deep and gravelly, but it sounded rough all the same. Braeburn swallowed again and nodded.

“Sure as we grow apples! Right thisaway, sir! I’ll get ya a glass o’ cider in two shakes o’ your flank!”

The newcomer followed Braeburn into the saloon, still as silent as ever. As the two ponies opened the door, all talk quieted. You didn’t see very many stallions in Appleloosa, aside from the train pullers. And this one didn’t look like a train puller.

Braeburn himself looked very nervous at the sudden silence. Turning, he gave a nervous smile at the patrons. “What’s th’ matter with all of ya? Ain’tcha ever saw a pony before?” As the pair reached the bar, Braeburn rapped a hoof on the slightly damp, polished bartop. “Hey, Foam Top! Two ciders, if ye’d be so kind!”

Two large glasses of apple cider were slid down the bar towards them. Braeburn caught them both with his hooves with practiced ease, getting into an open stool and patting the one next to him, which the newcomer took. As he sipped at his cider, Braeburn looked him up and down. “So…y’got a name, friend?”

The stallion remained silent, still sipping at his drink. Braeburn bit his lip nervously and went to drink his own cider, in the middle of a big gulp before the stallion spoke, startling Braeburn into spitting his mouthful of cider across the bar. “Desperado.” Braeburn turned to him. “What?”

“Name’s Desperado. Nothin’ special.”

“Oh.” Braeburn said. He took another pull of his cider before looking back at Desperado. “So…y’ in town long?”

“Not really,” Desperado replied. “I’m staying until tomorrow morning. Then I’ll move on. As is my wont.”

“You’re not gonna stay and see the sights?” Braeburn asked, cocking his head to one side.

“What sights?” Desperado asked. “This is a small town. There’s nothing interesting here. I wander. Didn’t you notice my cutie mark?”

Braeburn leaned back on his stool to look at Desperado’s flank, noting the tumbleweed. He straightened up. “Well, that ain’t no excuse! The big Appleloosa Foundin’ Festival is two days from now! Y’can at least stay for that!”

“And why should I?” Desperado asked as his head suddenly snapped around to look at Braeburn, the stallion getting right in his face, his blue eyes narrowed and glaring. “What gives you the right to dictate how I go about my own business?”

Braeburn backed away, raising his two front hooves defensively. “Whoa, settle down, partner! Ah didn’t mean it like that! It was…more of a suggestion, y’see?”

Desperado kept glaring at him, then grabbed his cider, chugged it down, and slapped the glass down on the counter before getting off his stool and walking out of the saloon.

“Hey!” Braeburn said. “Wait up!” He chugged down his own cider and ran out after Desperado, finding the stallion already on his way to the train station. “Wait! Y’said you were gonna stay the night!”

Desperado stopped in his tracks, Braeburn barely managing to avoid running into him as he screeched to a stop. The stallion looked back, still glaring. “So?”

“Do ya have a place t’stay?” Braeburn asked, cocking his head.

Desperado looked at him like he was stupid. “Can you see where I’m going?”

Braeburn looked past him, towards the train station. “Yeah.”

"Would I be going there if I was planning to stay the night?”

“No, but-“

“So what do you think I’m doing?” Desperado interrupted.

“If ya’d let me finish, I’d tell ya!” Braeburn said, finally being forceful. “There ain’t no passenger trains comin’ in or goin’ out t’day! Or tomorrow, or the next day! Ah’ve looked at the railway schedule, yah can go check it yerself!”

“I’ve walked across the desert this far,” Desperado said. He turned to the right and began walking in that direction. “I’ll just keep walking.”

“There ain’t nothin’ out there!” Braeburn said, turning his head to follow Desperado. “Appleloosa’s the only settlement in the entire desert ‘cept buffalo herds!”

Desperado stopped in his tracks, gritting his teeth and finally sighing. “Fine. I guess I’ll stay until that festival. I’m on the next passenger train out of here, though.”

“And nopony’ll be stoppin’ ya!” Braeburn replied. He sighed. “Look. Y’got a place t’stay, or what? I’ve got a spare bedroom, if’n you’re keen on stayin’ for real.”

Desperado turned, looking at Braeburn. Both of them stood in the empty street for a while, staring at one another. A breeze ruffled the tattered cloth poncho on Desperado’s body, and the manes and tails of both. He finally lowered his head and sighed. “Fine. I’ll take it.”

Braeburn’s serious expression reversed itself, turning into a grin. He started jumping through the air and bucking, rearing up in excitement. “Yeeeee-haw! This is gonna be great! I’ll show ya all the sights, we can tell each other stories, and all in all you’ll get the full experience of what it’s like to live in AAAAAAAAAAAPLELOOSA!” he said, rearing back and crowing the word to the sky again.

“I’ll try to contain my joy,” Desperado said, deadpan.

Equestria was one strange place to be. Differently from the folk from Caprinia, they did not live under a perpetual depressing gray sky nor did they have to endure the extreme heat from Camelot's sun*

^{The sun and moon were Equestria's domain, after all.}

. It was a place where weather was something easily foreseeable. In fact, it wasn't something uncommon to see a cloud being carried away by a pair of pegasus front-hooves and then forced to pour rainwater afterward.

Truth be told, what made this land strange were the lacking elements. It wasn't under any sort of conflict with other countries, like Redamus and Blunia whom were known throughout the world for their constant bickering, swearing and generally funny (albeit tragic) deaths. It wasn't home of any lunatic dictator — even if it once came close to be. No one murders anyone to become king, not even a single assassination attempt to their qu—princess. The only elements in this land that sightly resembled a proper kingdom were the typical creatures found in the forests, such as the Hydra, a fabled sea serpent and Ursas, the occasional abandoned fortresses, used at least once by an evil overlords trying to conquer the land, and a generally unfriendly wildfire.

And maybe this particular full-of-ponies-kingdom's peacefulness was the reason why the zebra galloped over 1000 miles to reach.

Or maybe not. After all, it was a small cottage inside the Everfree Forest that she came to occupy. The forest was known for the potentially deadly creatures dwelling in it, the abandoned fortresses and its unfriendly wildlife.

Speculation tells it's because of the over-abundant number of different ingredients for potions available in that cursed place. Of course, that was just the most sensible hypothesis. The problem was that it was also the least agreed upon, while the hypothesis of her being an evil witch ready to unleash a plague upon the closest village to her, Ponyville, on the other hoof had quite a lot of supporters.

However, whether one was correct and the other wrong was irrelevant.

What mattered was that Zecora needed a few ingredients for a potion.

Because she needed a few silenced mandrakes, she set out from her cottage. The zebra took with a hoof the cloak laid over her table and an empty pouch to fill with the strangely shaped plants.

A thunder struck an unfortunate tree not many miles away from the cottage.

She didn't heed attention. The cloak covered her body. Feeling appropriated for the occasion, she left. The door creaked and closed with a heavy thud.

Zecora may not have known, but there were events bound to happen. She was included.

Coincidentally, it was a dark and stormy night.