It was still dark outside when I opened my eyes. The sound of wood scraping across wood and a high pitched grunting had alerted me, and peering over at the table where I had dropped my panniers and baldric, I saw a small Earth filly pull my baldric off the table, obviously either to get at the purse attached to it or the make off with the lot. Her back was to me as she took the scabbard in her mouth and lifted it, trying to be silent as only the young believe silent is.
I silently slid out of bed, watching as she slowly walked to the door, only to have it swing shut in my cerulean aura. She froze, afraid to turn around. I took a few steps and painted a smile on my face.
“I doubt you’d get much for that old bit of steel,” I said, joviality in my voice. “But I would suren' like to know why you were trying to make off with it.”
She put the rapier down and immediately cowered in a corner, and when she did I saw bruises and a split lip. I felt rage flare up in me, remembering such things in my past as well until I realized that it must have shown on my face.
I took a deep breath and put on a soothing smile.
“Come along, little filly,” I said, lifting the basin and pitcher from the stand near the window. “Let’s have a look at that lip, shall we?”
She kept flinching as I cleaned her up as best I could, one of the bruises obviously reaching down deep, possibly even a hairline crack in the rib. She was also underweight, some of her ribs obvious through her coat. I couldn’t tell exactly how old she was, but she hadn’t received a cutie mark yet, so she couldn’t have been much younger than the fillies and colts in the school back in Ponyville. I frowned as I rinsed the cloth off and pressed it to her lip.
“Can you tell me your name?” I said. “I’m Azure, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She didn’t meet my gaze as she whispered in a voice even Fluttershy would find soft. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
My heart cracked a bit at that. “Because I hate seeing young ponies hurt,” I said. I glanced out the window. “Seems it’s the time for breakfast, and I hate eating alone.” I turned a grin at her and saw her try to hide the excitement in her eyes.
Downstairs, the inn had a respectable fare as far as food. “Two orders of oats and some fruit, please,” I asked the mare at the desk as we came in. I saw her glance at the state of the young rapscallion at my side with a flicker of sadness, but soon the food was brought out to our table.
The little filly immediately started wolfing down her food in a way that suggested it was the most she’d seen in a while. I laughed. “Slow down, rascal, you’re going to make yourself sick, you will,” I said, filling two glasses with water. “I am telling you, no one is going to take that away before you’re done with it, and that’s a promise.”
She swallowed and started to eat more slowly. The meal passed in silence until out of nowhere in that soft voice of hers, she whispered.
“River,” she said. “My name is River.”
“Very nice to meet you, River,” I said. “Now, seeing how we’re friends and all, can you tell me why you were trying to make off with my sword?”
She immediately looked down at the table, seeming to shrink in size. “Don’t be mad at me,” she whispered in fear.
“Oh,” I whispered. “Oh, no, little filly, I’m not mad. I just want to come to an understanding. Where are your parents?”
“They died a year ago,” she whispered.
“Isn't there anyone to look after you?” I asked. “Surely you must have some family somewhere.”
“If I do, they’ve never come forward,” she said, pawing the plate of fruit over to her. “I do well enough on my own.”
“Those bruises beg to differ,” I said, keeping my voice soft. “How did you get them?”
“I,” she hesitated. “I fell, trying to climb up a hill to get at some apples. I stepped on a loose stone on my way up.”
I frowned inwardly. I recognized fear when I saw it and it was plastered all over her face. “Well, then,” I said with a smile. “You’ll have to watch out for that next time, shan’t you?”
“Where are you from?” she said, a small frown crossing her face. “You talk funny.”
I laughed a bit at that. “Well, River,” I said, making sure my brogue came out in full force. “I come from a little village in the far east end of Equestria called Foalksmill,” I said. “Beautiful land, it is. Rolling hills, covered in deep green grass and clover as far as you can see.”
Subconsciously, as I described the land of my birth, I had started to cast the illusion spell I always did in my bardic tales. It helped heighten the excitements and enjoyment of the tale, and I could never resist a good tale. The little filly was captivated by the sight.
“It was a good place, but I didn’t stay there long,” I said. “I wasn’t much older than you when I went to Canterlot and joined with the EUP as a scout.”
“EUP?” she asked.
“Oh yes,” I said, showing an image of some of my friends in their shining armor, including my Gleam Star. “Princess Celestia’s personal guard, those lot. I joined up to help map some of the frontier.”
“Why would you want to do that?” she asked. “It’s dangerous out here.”
“Oh, aye, young one,” I said. “That it can be. But the adventure, that’s what calls me. Even now, semi-retired as I am, I still hear the call from time to time.”
“Where do you stay now?”
Ponyville flashed up. “Nice little town by the name of Ponyville,” I said, a bit of homesickness flashing up. “Great place, always plenty to do there.” I showed her some of the places I tended to frequent.
“I wish I could live somewhere like that,” I heard her whisper as I brought the show to an end.
“Nothing says you shan’t,” I said. “A wise pony once told me that the ticket to the future is one you write.” I gave her a wink. “Just make sure your hoofwriting is legible.”
She giggled and finished off the last of her fruit. I got up to go pay for our meal, but when I turned around, the filly was gone.
I frowned and turned back to the mare tending the desk. “That filly,” I said. “What’s her story?”
The mare gave a sad smile. “Poor thing,” she said. “You probably showed her more kindness than she’s seen in a while.”
“There isn’t any family that could look after her?”
“Nearest thing would be Grindstone,” she said with a sneer. “And I wouldn’t wish him on anypony. Nasty lot, he is, likely the one that put those bruises on her.”
Anger flared to a low heat inside. “And nopony stops him?”
“Grindstone owns more’n half this town,” she said. “And like I said, he’s the closest she has to family. It’s better to keep your head down on this one, miss.” She whisked away into the back of the inn, my plates in her mouth.
I walked back up to my room and pulled my baldric on.
Seems I might wish a talk with this Grindstone. I knew it wasn’t my business, and very likely once I left things would return to normal.
But I saw a lot of myself in River, a young filly alone against the world.