I flew to the bank. I don't have to elaborate, do I? It was a bank. I waited in line.
It wasn't all bad, though. The bank had the Manehatten train schedule on a big framed poster, and after I'd cashed my check, I trotted over and ran a hoof down the cool glass, looking for a good route. It took me a while, longer than it should have, but I found something decent: I could take the evening train to the southern Canterlot hub, then make a quick transfer and be in Appleloosa by noon the next day. You can buy train tickets right there at the bank, too, so of course I took advantage.
I had a few hours before my train left, so I went back home and packed my saddle bag. I didn't bring much – just some dry snacks, headshots, and a few traveling necessities. It had been a long time since I'd traveled anywhere on my own, so I figured I might as well travel light.
As much as I hoped to meander around the house and waste time until I had to go, I couldn't ignore the parlor. I wanted to leave and catch my train and not look back, but I had that tingling in my brain, that feeling you get when you know you're ignoring something. It's that feeling that won't go away unless you take care of whatever it is you're avoiding.
I bit my lip and went in. It was the first time since my freak-out that I'd stopped and really looked hard at everything: the splintered armrest, the bookcase, the ruined art... It looked like a battlefield of some forgotten war. It was calm, but you knew something bad had gone down.
The picture of my dad was one of the only things still intact. I looked over at it and sighed. "Yeah, I'm disappointed, too." There were pieces of wood and chunks of debris everywhere, but for everything that needed to be cleaned up, I didn't know where to start. It was one of those giant projects that you can't even figure out how to tackle, one that makes procrastination look super appealing.
I trotted over to the remains of the bookcase. It still stood, but the side panel needed to be replaced. I kicked a few pieces around and said out loud, "This... isn't gonna be easy." With a deep breath, I bent over and started moving all the broken pieces into one pile and everything that could be salvaged into another.
By the time I left for Appleloosa, it was a little better. No, I hadn't really fixed anything, and it would take a lot more work before I could be happy with it again, but at least I wouldn't be embarrassed if someone saw. 'Maybe they could even help me out,' I thought. In any case, I'd started solving the problem, and that has to count for something, right?
My flight down to Manehatten was quick, but it left me sweaty, and I wasn't any more comfortable inside the train station. Every square inch bustled with impatient bodies, and even flying above the earth ponies and unicorns, I still bumped up against a lot of other travelers. Everypony had someplace to be, and they didn't want anypony else getting in their way.
I wore a hat. Fans always say they see my mane and know it's me, so I'd bought an overpriced yellow sports cap from a vendor to conceal myself. It always seems to work in the books, and I don't let hat-mane bother me. It worked for the most part. A few fans still stopped me, but they were chill enough to get off my back after I tossed a signed headshot their way.
I got to the platform early. Things never go well when I'm early. I didn't want to be spotted by any more fans, so I ducked into a dark little pub near the platforms and grabbed a seat in the corner. It wasn’t quite dinner time, but I ordered anyway, keeping my head down and my eyes open for anypony to make a move towards me. That's how it works – somepony spots you in a public place, and it isn't so bad at first. But then they leave, and another pony sees their opportunity. It keeps going like that until you're getting swamped with fans from every angle and you miss your interview or your train or whatever.
I was able to keep out of sight, though, even though my food took almost half an hour to show up. It was greasy and barely worth eating, but I wolfed it down and dashed back to the platform just as the train was about to leave.
After trying and failing to dodge a camera flash from some leery-eyed unicorn, I was able to sneak onto the train and get to my compartment. I'd gotten a space in the sleeper car in one of those private rooms. They're meant mostly for families – each one has two sets of three bunks nailed to the walls – but if you've got the bits, the cashier usually looks the other way. I shut the door behind me, sat down on the lowest bunk, and there I was: all alone in my cramped little box for a ten-hour ride to Canterlot.
After a few minutes, the train lurched forward, and the heavy wheels rumbled somewhere underneath me while we built up speed. I sat on the lowest bed and looked out the window, watching the features of the train station pass by. Soon, we were out under the open sky, and I caught a glimpse of some of the taller buildings on the western side of Manehatten. It didn't take long to leave the city limits. We got past the suburbs and rolled into the flat, featureless plains.
It started hitting me that I was really doing it. I was really going out of my way to take responsibility and fix a problem I'd caused and actually make somepony's life better. I smiled to myself and sat up a little straighter. 'Be there soon, Braeburn. I'm on my way.' I thought about our reunion for several minutes, about all the different ways it could end up.
My foreleg itched, so I absentmindedly scratched it.
Then my nose itched, so I scratched that, too.
Then my throat felt like it had a lump in it, so I started humming. My wings were aching, like they needed to stretch, and my hind leg started twitching. I found myself nodding and tapping my hoof, faster and faster.
'I'm on my way.' I felt my confidence start to fade. There were a lot of different ways it could end up, and the more I thought about it, the more I started to doubt my decision to go at all.
'I'm on my way.' My breathing was getting ragged. My stomach was full of rocks. My heartbeat picked up, and I felt dizzy, and I suddenly wanted to fly very, very fast.
My eyes went wide as I kept gazing out the window. "Sweet Celestia, I'm really on my way!" The room closed in on me. I looked all around, and I realized more and more how much the cabin felt like a cage, a prison hurling me towards a rendezvous with a pony that not only wasn't expecting me, but that probably didn't want to see me at all. "I-I need air," I stammered, jerking my head toward the tiny window and wondering if I could squeeze out and fly alongside the train. "I need air!"
Right before a show, you get a feeling all over your body. It tells you to not screw up, or everypony will see what a failure you are. It pushes you to do better, and that energy sticks with you all the way through the show and long past when the audience goes home.
This wasn't that feeling. It was similar, but it was... corrupted or... something. I should have been excited or relieved, but every bone in my body wanted to escape. I wanted to jump out the window and fly home and not have to face Braeburn, and the more I realized how much I was freaking out, the more I freaked out.
My stomach did somersaults. 'It's no big deal. It's no big deal!' My spine tingled, and my mind raced with thoughts about how I might be screwed whether I went to Appleloosa or not. 'What if he won't talk to me? Or what if he doesn't forgive me? Hell, I've been messed up since before I met him! How would I even deal with the Won–'
I got about halfway through my thoughts before I recognized another familiar feeling, but this one was in my guts. I quickly stood up and smacked my head against the bunk above me. "Ow!" My vision blurred for a second, and I was suddenly completely disoriented, desperately feeling around for the window. Stumbling up to it half-blind and with a sour taste quickly rising in my throat, I struggled to keep everything choked down as I fumbled with the window latch, and I got cold sweats as I focused a lot of my mental fortitude on not passing out.
I stopped breathing. It felt like somepony was squeezing my throat. Time slowed down, but I finally flipped the latch, opened the window, and stuck my head out into the evening air.
"HRRRCHKGL!!!" Just in time for my dinner to splash onto the tracks. Some of it caught the wind and splattered against the train, and I prayed for overnight rain so nopony would notice.
I sucked in a big breath of air. It was cool and soothing and kept me from blacking out. I was still seeing dots and the edge of my vision. My lip quivered. I moaned, blinked a few tears out of my eyes and raised my head a little, but the motion of the train churned me up again. I spewed some more, then spent a few minutes dry-heaving and gasping for breath until I felt light-headed. When I felt sure I wasn't going to fall over, I spit the last of the bile out of my mouth and onto the tracks.
After some careful, shallow breathing, I wiped my mouth with my fetlock and slumped down with my head still out the window. The Manehatten lights were already fading into the twilight, and there was nopony around. My rainbow yawn had probably gone unseen.
When the noise from the tracks started getting to me, I cautiously pulled my head back into the train car, closed the window most of the way, and flopped onto the bed. It was a cheap one, not much more than a board with a little padding on it, just barely enough to be called a bed at all. It creaked as I lay down on it, and the pillow wasn't any fluffier or more comforting.
I rubbed my tummy to make it feel better. It seemed like it was settling, but I just stayed there on my back for almost an hour trying to gauge whether the next big bump would send me rushing for the window again. I tried to nap, but noooooo luck there.
A hard knock on the door got me up and moving again. I peeked out into the hallway to see a surly-looking older mare pushing a cart. "Dinner, sir?" Salty, oily smells wafted to my nose, making me cringe.
"Ugh. No, thanks." Food sounded like a terrible idea, and I had my snacks for later, anyway. I waved her away and flopped back onto the bed to watch the wall.
With my stomach feeling mostly better, I suddenly had trouble staying still. I wanted to move around, to do anything but wait there in that stupid metal box, but I didn't want to go outside and face a crowd. Foals are always wandering around the trains when they get bored, and they're the first to shout at you when they find out who you are.
I picked at a tear in the padding for a while, then took out my deck of cards. I don't even know any games you can play alone, so I tried building a card house. The train was too bumpy, so I never got past the first level. Things just kinda continued like that for a few hours – nothing to break the monotony except a stealthy trip to the bathroom to clean myself up.
Sometime after dark, I couldn't take it anymore, so I grabbed my saddle bag and chanced a run to the dining car. Fluttering to avoid making noise, I reached the back of my sleeper car, opened the door, and stepped outside onto a little bridge with a high railing. The door slid shut loudly, but by then I was out. I made my way through the next car the same way.
Thankfully, the dining room was only two cars down, and I was relieved to see there wasn't anypony there except the bartender. He was whistling and cleaning up a few plates from the dinner rush hours earlier, and the few smells that lingered were a lot more pleasant than the ones from that mare's cart. The space itself was actually pretty nice, all things considered. A few small, tacky chandeliers hung from the tall ceiling, the tables were arranged to make the room look a lot bigger than it was, and somepony had tried really, really hard to keep the plush red carpet looking clean. They hadn't succeeded, but the effort showed.
I shuffled over to the bar, dropped my bag, and sat on one of the stools.
The bartender, an earth pony in a red vest with a tan coat and black mane, stayed on the opposite end of the bar until he finished drying a plate and whistling whatever song that was, but then he came right over. "Well, I know that face!" He spoke cheerfully. His voice was a little nasally, like a showman or a barker you'd hear at a fair. When I gave him a weak, forced smile, he leaned in on the bar, not too close but not too far from me, either. "Know that expression, too. Havin' mare trouble, Mister Windsong?"
Annoying? Maybe, but I couldn't help but like the guy. He had a great smile and a calm voice, and he moved around like the bumpy tracks didn't affect him at all.
I was leaning on the bar, forelegs crossed and fidgeting with my hooves. "Well... kinda."
He was quick. Very quick. He dug under the bar and tossed a couple ingredients – something yellow and a few leaves – into a glass and started muddling, chuckling while he worked. "Heh heh. So, which version o' this story we gonna to hear? Is she crazy? Or are you stupid? Little of both, maybe?" He scooped some crushed ice into a lowball glass with one hoof, then dumped the muddled mush over it and topped the drink off with a bunch of different liquids.
I kept watching him and found myself smiling as I replied, "Oh, I'm definitely the idiot. Nooooo question about that."
The bartender stuck a straw into the drink and gave it a quick stir before passing it over. I still couldn't believe how fast he moved. "Aw, don't be so hard on yourself. Let's see... you forgot an anniversary? No, no, no. You got in a fight and said something?" He must have seen me flinch. "Prob'ly something below the belt, right? They can't hurt you if you hurt them first?"
I would have hit him if he hadn't been so damn pleasant. Instead, my eyes opened wide in disbelief. "Yeah! How'd you know?"
He leaned in a little further and scratched behind his ear. "Eh, I've had practice. You'd be surprised how many ponies all have the same problems."
"Got any advice, then?"
"Ha!" He laughed and slapped the bar. "Mister Windsong, if I knew anything about actually fixing problems, I'd be rich! I'm sure you'll figure it out, though." He nodded at the glass. "How is it?"
It took me a second, but I remembered the drink and had a sip. It was tasty! Artificial, but still pretty good. It was sweet but herby, and I couldn't place the weird, mild spiciness. "I love it! What's in it?"
"Aw, it's just mango, basil, little rum... Would be better if I could get some fresher ingredients, but that's life on the rails." He looked up, pondered a little, and whistled. "Wouldn't trade it, though. You meet the most interesting folks out here."
We chatted for a while. It was nice, but the conversation never really went anywhere. When you're in a job like that, I guess you only ever learn to how make small talk. I wasn't expecting some big revelation from this guy or anything, though. It was just nice to have somepony to talk to.
Eventually, my stomach growled, but after I asked about food, he steered me away from what he had at the bar. "Old stock," he said.
He didn't charge me for the drink, and he wouldn't accept a tip, so I gave him a signed headshot, made out to "Smileshine, the best bartender I've ever had." Smileshine told me he had a whole album of signed headshots, but that mine was going right at the front. He thanked me, and I picked up my bag as we said our goodbyes. Great guy. Not sure if he's still riding the rails, but I hope he's doing well, wherever he is.
I wandered back to my sleeper cabin and grabbed some oats from my bag. They were the sweetened kind, the ones that get your hooves all sticky if you touch them. It wasn't anything exciting, but it did the job, and I kinda liked rolling something chewy around in my mouth for a while. Gave me something to do.
As I sat there munching, that twisty feeling started to work over my stomach again, and I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. It didn't work. My lip started quivering. 'Buck. I can't do this all the way there.' Hundreds of different scenarios played out in my head as I swallowed the last of my oats. Most of them sucked.
"I need a pep talk." I glanced around. There weren't any mirrors in the train car, obviously, but I was still disappointed.
My ear flicked. I was going to have to do it the old fashioned way. I leaned forward. My head was hung low, and I closed my eyes to focus. "Okay, Soarin', you screwed up, but things are on the right track. Literally." My voice sounded small, and the walls felt close, and I told myself to speak up even though I was alone. You don't inspire confidence sounding timid. I gestured a little with one hoof and spoke louder. "It's going to get better. You're going to make it better, because you're Soarin' Windsong, and you don't let anypony keep you down!"
I started nodding to myself and drumming my hooves against the bed. "You got this. You've got charm, confidence, and a smokin' hot bod that nopony can say 'no' to." I smirked and nodded harder. "It'll be great! You'll get to Appleloosa, find Braeburn, and say–"
I looked up and opened my eyes, and I could see him right there in front of me. My heart stopped and my voice cracked. "Hey, Braeburn!"
It wasn't like the restaurant. This Braeburn wasn't laughing. He was staring me down with furrowed eyebrows and bared teeth. I tried to ignore my heart rate and keep talking myself through the routine. "You probably weren't expecting me. I-I... sorry for just showing up out of the blue, but I... I wanted to, um..." Imaginary Braeburn started crying silently. "You don't need to... I'm sorry about the stuff that happened." He curled his lip and shot me a sneer.
I didn't like where the conversation was going.
My hairs pricked up as my chest tightened. "I just... I-I'm sorry, okay!" Braeburn rolled his eyes, like he was judging me, and I felt myself getting worked up. I was already too far gone to stop myself, though. The snowball was picking up speed. "It wasn't my fault." I pointed a hoof at the darkness in front of me as the knot in my stomach grew larger. I felt control of my thoughts slipping away. "You're the one that jumped me. You should have told me you were so skittish!" I saw Braeburn turn to leave, and I threw my hooves up. "Fine! I don't need you! I don't need any of this! You think I like feeling guilty all the time? You don't need to be an asshole about it! You're not the only pony with–"
Three loud knocks on the wall broke me out of my scream fest. My neighbors clearly didn't appreciate my little role-play.
I tumbled back to reality. I was breathing hard. My body was shaking, and my jaw hurt. Must have been clenching my teeth. When I finally got ahold of myself, I let my body go slack. The bed caught me with a loud squeak. I mumbled into the pillow, "Well, shit," and waited for the adrenaline to wear off.
'No more pep talks. Not tonight,' I thought. I tried to fall asleep again, but I was way too tense, and when I rolled over to look out the window, the night sky looked a lot more inviting than staying in a cramped room breathing stale air.
I didn't want to risk taking off through such a small window, so I hauled myself out of bed, out of my room, and back to the junction between the sleeper cars. The door was too noisy again, but I wasn't being as careful that time. The tracks sped past underneath me, and in the moonlight, I was able to make out a ladder that led to the top of the car. It was stored high up and out of reach, but, you know, wings. I grabbed it and pulled it down with just a couple flaps. See, I didn't want to just fly up to the roof, since opening your wings right before a massive change in wind resistance is a great way to get knocked out of the sky. You only make that mistake once.
I climbed the ladder and poked my head out above the car. The cold wind slapped my face, but after the initial shock, it felt good, like it was blowing away all my other thoughts. What more could I have asked for?
The roof had a small track on top lined with some kind of rubber or something – probably for maintenance – and there was a low guide rail that I clung to while I hoisted myself up. I kept my wings folded in tightly. At that speed, I would have been peeled right off the car if they opened at all.
It was loud up there. Between the wheels rolling over the track and the wind rushing by, all my surface thoughts were being drowned out. It was exactly what I wanted.
Gusts of wind pounded at my chest, and my mane whipped around and beat against the back of my neck as I found a good position to sit in. I had to wobble a little to keep my balance, but after a few minutes, I got used to swaying my body just the right way. It was a lot like flying or sex or dancing. You get into a rhythm after a while.
When I got sick of sitting, I lay down on my back, keeping a hoof on the guide rail just in case. The sky was mostly clear, and for as fast as we were moving, everything seemed so motionless and serene when I looked up at that big, black dome. The stars were twinkling, and the moon was almost perfectly round. It reminded me of Braeburn's butt.
Don't write that down! Princess Luna sees everything!
The wheels kept rattling on the track, and the air kept whizzing by. I had my forelegs behind my head, and everything was loud in a really peaceful way.
The few thoughts I could form kept looping over and over. 'I should probably head back to my bed. I'm not tired, though. I should get some sleep before I meet Braeburn, but I wouldn't be able to. He's the reason I'm up here, anyway. I don't want to be a total wreck tomorrow, though. I should probably head back to my bed.' It was that same logic over and over, except... well...
There... was also this other thing.
I was remembering the time Dad let me stay up super late. I'd asked about the stars, but it was a little weird. When I asked, "Why does everypony like stars so much?" I was talking about celebrities.
Dad misunderstood. I hadn't gotten my cutie mark yet, so maybe he thought I could be an astronomer or something, but he just replied, "Well, how about we go take a look tonight?" The way he smiled made me nervous. See, that was back when I was just a colt, back when things were pretty rough and the two of us were still adjusting to the... new living situation. Dad was smiling about something again, though, and that made me happy, so I told him I really wanted to go stargazing with him.
We waited around playing board games in the kitchen long after the sun had gone down. I remember looking at the game pieces and whining, "Ugh. Can we go yet?" and following it up with a yawn.
Dad just chuckled. "Aw, Stormcloud running out of thunder?" He passed me his mug of lukewarm coffee. "Here, have a gulp."
I poked at the mug. I was afraid to drink it, because coffee was supposed to be a grown-up drink, and the last time I'd snuck a grown-up drink, I'd gotten completely blitzed and Dad had to take me to the hospital to get my stomach pumped.
What? I was an early bloomer.
Dad seemed okay with me drinking the coffee, though, so I picked up the mug. I looked back at him, but he didn't stop me. I stared at the inky black liquid. It didn't look like anything else I'd ever tasted. All at once, I took a big drink and immediately spat most of it back into the cup, but plenty of it splashed onto the table. "Gross!" Dad burst out laughing. I frowned a little. "Why are grown-up drinks all so yucky? Do I have to drink this stuff when I'm big?" I legitimately, for-real thought I wouldn't be allowed to grow up if I didn't drink enough.
Dad settled down, then reached over and scratched the top of my head, right on the mane where it always felt the best. "You'll change your tune someday, big guy. Let's go."
Our house was on the outskirts of Cloudsale's suburbs, but there was a nearby park with a big hill that blocked out most of the city lights. It was cold out, and I felt like I wasn't flying as fast as I should have been. Dad waited for me, of course, but it still made me feel slow. My eyes were heavy by the time we got to the park, and it didn't help that we laid down on a particularly soft cloud.
After we'd settled in, Dad pointed at the sky. "Take a look, Soarin'." He started waving his hoof around, like he was painting a picture just for the two of us. "So, the stars help the moon light up the night sky. If you look closely, you can see them twinkle, almost like they're moving!" His voice was lively and bouncy, and that comforted me. He hadn't sounded like that in weeks.
I looked wherever he pointed, and he kept going. "A lot of ponies just like watching them and thinking about the big things in life. If you use your imagination, they can make a bunch of different shapes, too! It's sort of like those dot-to-dots you do at school."
Dad always knew everything, and he always wanted to share with me. If it wasn't the stars, then it was the wind or flying or sports or anything else. With him teaching me and talking to me, I felt happy and safe, so it didn't take me long to fall asleep.
I woke up sometime later, shivering and curled up in a little ball. I cracked open an eye just a little.
Dad wasn't pointing any more. He was still looking up at the stars and talking, but his voice was different. It was lower, mellower, slower. It was the same way he'd been talking to other grown-ups in those days. "...about it sometimes." He sighed. "No regrets, though. Not in the slightest. You're worth it, Stormcloud. And don't you ever think otherwise." There was a long pause. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep us all together."
Dad scratched at his chest, and when he rolled onto his side and looked over at me, I shut my eyes again. I didn't want to interrupt him. He took a few deep breaths and must have just watched me for a while. "It doesn't always end up like this, though. Lots of ponies stick together their whole lives."
He got really quiet for a while. His breaths were shaky.
"I hope you fall in love someday, Soarin', with somepony who can make you happy. Love's something special. I... I hope I didn't wreck it for you. It really is something special. Just like you, son."
He reached over and stroked my shoulder a few times, and I remember being really confused about what I was feeling inside. "That's enough outta me, though." He'd snapped back to his cheerful self, like nothing was bothering him. "Let's get you to bed."
I didn't want to get up. I didn't want to move or make him sad or even think about him being sad at all, and I thought if I just stayed where I was and let him keep teaching me about the stars, then he wouldn't be sad anymore.
It was time to go, though. Dad carried me all the way home and tucked me in nice and tight and toasty and warm.
I gave him an extra-long hug that night.
...
The train was slowing down. The wind still whipped by, but it was subsiding, and the rumble of the wheels started fading as Canterlot Mountain grew nearer and nearer.
With a deep breath, I sat up, shook out my mane, and looked down at my hooves while Dad's words played over and over in my head.
'You're worth it, Stormcloud.'
...
...
I should have talked to him more. There were always the Father's Days and the birthdays and everything, but it just doesn't seem like enough, you know? Like... you've got somepony so important to you, somepony you truly appreciate deep down, but you never take the time to thank them or tell them how much they mean to you, how much you love them and want them to be happy. And then, they're gone.
'I hope you fall in love someday, Soarin'.'
I wanted to tell him that it wasn't too late for me, that he didn't screw up my life or fail me at all. I wanted to tell him all about the things I've done as a Wonderbolt and how I've learned the right way to treat the ponies I care about. I wanted him to keep teaching me and be proud of me and be happy again. I... wanted him to tuck me in, just one more time.
I...
...
...
...I'm okay. It's fine.
I'm okay.
It didn't take long to arrive at the station. The city shone above me, big and pretty and way too pretentious. Luckily, we weren't heading into the city itself, just stopping at the south-side junction where I had to make a pretty quick transfer. I scrambled down the ladder, nearly lost my balance a few times, and dashed back to the sleeper car to grab my saddle bag.
I didn't have to wait long. The train chugged to a halt, the ear-splitting squeak of the brakes enough to wake up everypony on board. By the time the train cars lurched to a complete stop, I was already on the platform with my saddle bag, followed by about a hundred achy, cranky, groaning ponies.
I'm never as grateful for my wings as when I've got a crowd to bypass. My next train was just down the platform, but I could already hear the conductor calling, "Last call, Canterlot to Appleloosa!"
I gave the conductor my ticket and hopped on. This train was much smaller, only three passenger cars with regular seats and none of the same amenities as the last one. I don't blame them. Middle of the week, late night route... there's not a lot of money there. It's fine, though. There was plenty of space, and I got a seat with some extra leg room.
I caught sight of a clock as the train began pulling away from the station: 3 A.M.
"Next stop, Appleloosa!"
I was in that weird zone where you're tired but you don't feel tired. My eyes were dry and a little sore, but my heart started beating faster. My thoughts were racing, too, and I found myself pawing at the foreleg rest. I was nodding with the bumps in the tracks, and suddenly those itches came back. I should seriously get a medal for surviving that whole trip without going loony.
A few minutes of stewing later, I grumbled to myself, "Knock it off. You're fine. Get some sleep. You'll need it." I fished a custom eye mask out of my bag. I hadn't bought it – fans give you the weirdest things, but sometimes they can be pretty useful. It was silky and had my cutie mark on it, the lightning bolt with the wave. Almost everypony assumes all the Wonderbolts have the same cutie mark – the lightning bolt with wings – like they don't understand how clothing works. Some fans get it, though. I appreciated the attention to detail.
I slipped it on and sat back against my seat. I don't know what it is about public transport, but you always feel too hot and too cold at the same time, know what I mean? I nodded off for a few seconds at a time, but kept waking up to thoughts of how quick the seven-hour ride was going to be. Even with the eye mask, I wasn't expecting a lot of sleep. I think my exact thoughts were, 'It'll probably take me the whole trip just to fall asleep. Might be a good thing. I should figure out what I'm going to say when–'
SCREECH!!!
"Appleloosa, end of the line!"
I snapped forward and bumped my nose into the seat in front of me. My head felt fuzzy, and my legs were numb. I swung my head around when I couldn't see anything, trying to shake the haze from my mind, and I panicked a little until I remembered that I had the eye mask on. Reaching up, I tore it off quickly. Big mistake.
Everything was dazzlingly bright, like a completely sunny day back in Cloudsdale, and I felt nauseous. I turned my head and grunted. Outside the opposite window, I saw a small, yellow building with a landing platform and green pillars holding up an awning. It dawned on me.
'I'm here.'
My eyes adjusted, and I looked back out my own window. The main strip of Appleloosa was right in front of me. There wasn't much – maybe only ten or twelve large buildings along the main road – but they were all painted in rich, beautiful colors that stood out from the flat, brown scenery that surrounded them. Dozens of ponies milled about from shop to shop, some chatted on porches, and even though the town was small, it seemed just as alive as Cloudsdale. Maybe even more so, with how open the sky looked and how friendly everypony acted. It was like the town itself was breathing.
'I'm here.'
"Move along, son." The conductor pony looked at his pocket watch, then back to me.
"Uh, yeah. Sorry." I grabbed my saddle bag and slung it over my back, moving towards the platform. The rest of the passengers had already filed off, and I hopped onto the platform just before the train pulled away towards a train yard a little ways down the track.
I didn't move for a few seconds. Instead, I breathed in the air. It was clean, like home, but it had its own distinct flavor, dusty and a little salty with a strong smell of freshly cut wood. I took in a few deep breaths, then turned around and fluttered off the platform, across the tracks and onto Mane Street.
It was dizzying, which was super bizarre. Appleloosa is tiny, but everything there had this kind of real-ness to it.
My nerves buzzed when I realized I could run into Braeburn at any second. My body shook, but not in a bad way. I was scared out of my mind, sure, but there was something else, too. My ears flicked, my tail swished, and a smile grew on my face. Despite myself, I'd made it. "I'm here!"
With my head high, I trotted down the road, twisting my neck to look everywhere for my little butter-yellow pony. A few of the locals gave me looks, but most of them were friendly, waving and saying things like, "Welcome to Appleloosa, stranger!" with that homey country twang. It was so different from the cities, where everypony is always in a hurry.
There weren't a lot of buildings, but all the basics were covered. There was a general store, a saloon, a restaurant, a small-town hospital, and even a store that looked like it sold nothing but hats. You wouldn't think a store like that would survive in such a small town, but everypony there wore a hat. Every. Single. One. I thought about putting my cap on, but it's not like I would have been any less conspicuous. I was the only pegasus in sight, after all.
Part of me wanted to stop and explore, but my eyes were peeled looking for Braeburn. Within a couple minutes, though, I was at the other side of town and hadn't seen him. The only thing in front of me was a small field of dry-looking grass that bumped up against a steep hill, one that had tons of gigantic hoofprints on it.
Staring at that hill, I must have looked really out of place, because eventually three stallions approached me: a grey one in front followed by a blue one and a green one, all earth ponies. The grey one spoke up with a smile and a country accent. "You lost, stranger?"
I paused. "Kinda..." He raised an eyebrow at me, so I elaborated. "I'm looking for a pony named Braeburn. Yellow guy, wears a vest. You seen him?"
The blue one in the back scoffed and growled in a low voice. "Peh. Mr. Big Shot? Probably sucking off the mayor in the next town." The grey one rolled his eyes and grimaced before giving his blue friend a swift, one-legged buck to the shoulder. "Ow!"
The grey one looked over his shoulder and snarled. "Now you shut the buck up! That's not how we address comp'ny." He looked back at me. "Ignore Pridesong. He's an idiot. Mr. Braeburn's done good work around here, for the most part."
Pridesong blew a little air out of his lips and fumed to himself. "Two steps forward..."
"Anywho, Braeburn was out of town on vacation, but yer in luck. He came back early. Been holed up in his house, though. Don't know what he's up to..." He paused and thought. "...mostly, but I figure he deserves a break."
He seemed like he wasn't letting on to everything, but I didn't care. All I'd heard was that Braeburn was still in town. "Awesome! Where's he live?"
"Well, if'n you came by train 'n not feather, you were pretty close." He pointed back across town. "He's across the tracks in that little green house by the orchard, the one with the three apple trees in the yard."
I unfurled my wings and grinned. "Thank you!"
I jumped up into the air and was speeding away when he called out. "No worries. If you need anything else, my name's Slate. Welcome to Appleloosa!"
In a few seconds, I'd flown high enough to see over the buildings, and it didn't take long to spot the house, a modest two-story cottage with green paint, a brown roof, and a porch that faced towards town. I rocketed forward, and Celestia herself couldn't have stopped me.
I set myself down about twenty meters away from the door and trotted forward, giving myself just enough time to collect my thoughts. My heart fluttered, and I kept practicing my first words. "Heeey, Braebur.... no." My heart beat faster. "Nice to see... no." Each time, I tried to sound peppy and perky, but I didn't need to fake any of my excitement. My stomach wanted to fly away, and my head was dizzy, but I felt absolutely amazing!
I picked up the pace and started breathing heavily. 'I'm here,' I thought. 'He's going to be okay. I'm going to be okay. No matter how long it takes, I'll let him know how sorry I am, that he doesn't have anything to be ashamed of, and that he'll be okay.' The scenes played out in my head again, but this time, they all ended well, and each one made me quiver: Braeburn and me laughing. The two of us bonding, staying friends for years. Bro-hoofs. Hugs. Kisses. Cuddles.
I was at the door.
'I'm here.'
My face hurt from how much I was smiling, and I took a moment for a deep breath.
I knocked.
My legs were jittery, so I hopped in place a few time, only stopping when I heard hoofsteps. I bit my lower lip. This was it.
The doorknob turned.
I held my breath.
The door creaked open.
I smiled.
A perfect yellow face poked out from behind the half-open door, squinting at the daylight.
Just seeing that glimpse of him made my heart soar. It felt like my first flight, or like becoming a Wonderbolt all over again, like every new start I'd ever had and all the good feelings that came with them. Time went too slow and too fast all at once, and I saw the sunlight glint off those beautiful green eyes, which went wide as he realized that I'd come back to him.
My chest puffed out involuntarily, and my wings sprung up. "Hi, Braebu–"
"AW, HELL!!!"
*SLAM*