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Biography 
artimae
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Tell me if this holds any interest. · 1:01pm
He stood upon the hill, casting his glance down toward the village which lay in his path - or rather, the dirt path which he happened to be following. The brim of his flat-crowned hat effectively shielded his soft-blue eyes from the bright glare of the sun as it followed its estranged orbit, and he was highly thankful for that. Vaguely, he wondered in which direction it would set tonight, for it had not set in true West for many a year.
The village itself was simple enough, comprised of wooden huts with thatched roofs. The grandest building, by local standards, stood at two stories and was the only one with any sort of decor adorning it. Obviously the town’s central hall. Near to that he observed the town’s own well, apparently the only structure made of actual stone. The few ponies he saw regarded this no more than the dirt in which they walked. Either they had plenty of drinking water to go around, or none at all. The latter would not have surprised him, for he had witnessed the very conditions dozens of towns over, but by the late Celestia’s grace he would come to find out that the former held true for a change.
From where it sat in the sky now, the sun told him it was one o’ the clock. The perfect time to stroll through town, mayhap fill his stomach with food, and even pick up a mare-of-the-night to quell the ache in his loins. Tomorrow he would get back on the road. And if luck were on his side, he’d have a few more supplies in his saddlebags. A bit of rest would do him good, after all. It wasn’t as if Canterlot, or its ruins to which he ventured, were going anywhere.
And at least this town hadn’t been overrun with Diamond Dogs. He hoped.
Ignore the tired grammar and shoddy pace, just say if its something someone would read.
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The licking..... *eye twitches*
Licks you. HA!
Nice work.