//------------------------------//
// Chapter 1: arrival 
// Story: Steelhoof: The life I lead 
// by basalisk120 
//------------------------------//

Chapter 1.

It was midnight in Whitetail wood, the harmless sister to the lethal everfree, its delicate white trees making up the whole western border of the small, rural village that was Ponyville. Normally, all was more or less silent in the forest, the only sounds being the gentle swish of the breeze through the slender white trees, and the faint rustlings of tiny woodland creatures that thrived in the safety of the controlled forest.
However, it was not a normal night. The forest was utterly silent, the creatures of the trees and leaves either silent, or simply gone, fleeing into the night. Because if one listened into the dark, they would hear the slow, rhythmic sound of hooves hitting the dry earth pathway, pounded flat by generations of leaf-running. Something was coming. Something large.

As the hoofsteps grew louder, the forest almost seemed to become even more quiet, a silent audience to the approaching being trudging toward the sleeping town.
Then, a shape appeared, plodding slowly over the hill. It was clearly a pony, and much smaller than the sound of its hooves would suggest. Its shape, even though blurred by the darkness, was strange, angular and bulky, but clearly male in origin. And if one were to ask this mysterious stranger about its name, it would simply reply: Steelhoof.
Steelhoof was a big pony, even though he sounded much larger. He stood proudly, standing above almost anypony he had ever met before. This was no small feat, considering Steelhoof’s profession as a wanderer, having spent the last six years of his life in the wastelands to the west, scrounging up what few bits were to be made. He was strong too, easily outperforming anypony that came against him.

This was because Steelhoof was made of metal.

Every inch of his large, bulky body was made up of dozens of complex, interlocking metal plates that were constantly shifting as he walked. All of his movements were accompanied by the small whoosh of hydraulics and a faint whirr of electric motors. His eyes were artificial too, a pair of glowing yellow orbs. But even still, there was life in them, and reflected in his bright, glass coated eyes was a clife of loneliness and unhappiness. 
All he knew about his past life was that some six years ago, he woke up with an almost juggernaut-like body of thick metal. He had no memories of his past life, no knowledge of anything about himself. He had no friends, no companions, no one to talk to, and no one to turn to.
Hell, he didn’t even know his real name.
He chose the name steelhoof, as the least insulting of the names placed on him by the other ponies all over Equestria. 

He was feared.

He never tried to do bad things, he tried to help those around him, and survive in a world that was wary of his mere presence, but it was useless. Those few that weren’t scared by his mechanical features were scared by his monstrous strength and unstable mind.
It was his few tortured memories of his wandering that fully occupied his mind as he slowly plodded down the wide path toward Ponyville. As usual, he was so engrossed in these thoughts that ingored the repetitive background of the forest, tuning it out as he looked down at the ground. As a result, he didn’t even notice the trees thin out, or the signs of civilisation begin to draw near. He hadn’t been this far west for as long as he could remember, and had only done so because he had recently been chased out of town slightly further to the east. The trees had disappeared altogether now, so he did not notice a sharp bend in the path, lost in his thoughts. He also didn’t notice a large sign that he was approaching fast.
With a clang that echoed into the shadows, he walked straight into it. Muttering various expletives under his breath, he proceeded to read the faded text of the now bent sign, reading it aloud in his own deep, rough voice that crackled ever so slightly when he spoke. It read:
“Sweet Apple Acres. Best apples in all of Equestria.”
Figuring it to be a farm of some description, he decided it would probably make a good place to spend the night. He couldn’t avoid a faint sense of familiarity as he walked toward the thick apple orchard however, like he’d been there before, long ago, and had since forgotten it. He shook his head, chalking it up to coincidence. Wherever this place was, he’d never been here before, it was too far west. Despite this, there was an uncomfortable, niggling sensation at the back of his head, trying to be heard. He decided it must be faulty wiring, and promptly ignored it. Even if he did know anything about his own internal workings, which he didn’t, he probably wouldn’t try to do anything about it. These days, he wasn’t so much living as existing, and didn’t really want to do so any longer than he had to. He wasn’t depressed, just weary.
Before long, the big pony found himself deep inside the apple orchard. He trudged between the trees, looking to find a nice patch he could stare at the stars from. Comfort wasn’t really an issue to him, as his body left him sadly devoid of physical sensation. The bounty of apples dangling from the trees as he walked past would have looked inviting at the least to any other pony. It was midsummer, and the apples were quickly reaching their ripest. But he was not any other pony. Being robotic had its uses, chief among which was being never hungry. He did not need the food, and couldn’t taste it anyway.

Eventually he found a nice gap in the trees, and lay down, the moonlight reflecting gently off of his metallic hide. Calming his mind, he stared blankly up at the skies, before a pair of thick, dark eyelids dropped over his eyes and he drifted off to sleep.




He awoke bright and early the next morning, to the sound of somepony heading toward him. That was the problem with sleeping in farms – the farmers always got up earlier than you. Quickly stoking his limbs into action, he jumped into the bushes, scrambling behind a tree and peering out through the leaves. Almost the second that he was out of sight, a lean, slightly muscular orange mare trotted around the corner, walking right past. The mare was lightly freckled, and wore an aging brown Stetson to keep off the sun. Although she was by no means unattractive by any stretch of the imagination, Steelhoof felt nothing for her, save the faint sensation that they had met before. He could see that she was talking to someone, speaking in a thick southern accent. The accent and Stetson seemed bizarrely familiar to him but he couldn’t place it. Then he noticed the other pony. An enormous red stallion, also freckled, with a passive, mildly contented face and large, soulful green eyes. The stallion was clearly muscular, and carried himself effortlessly though the trees, despite the cart that he was pulling behind him. Celestia! That pony is almost as tall as I am!  Steelhoof thought to himself, shrinking further into the bushes as they passed.  As they passed him, the sensation in the back of his head grew steadily stronger, along with the sense of déjà vu. Before long, the feeling became painful, and he was forced to hold his head in his hooves, sitting back on the grass. Then, without warning, the space behind his eyes exploded, and his mind was wracked by a personal epiphany. Sudden thoughts and memories exploded into his mind as he collapsed onto the floor. The cool summer breeze floating down from the hills as he walked down to the farm, carrying with it the faintest fragrance of freshly picked apples, the rich, delicious taste of ice cold cider under the baking sun… Applejack and Big Macintosh. Those names struck harder than anything else, their images burning onto the back of his mind. As memories poured back into his pain-wracked mind, he could remember shattered instances of every time they had met. But he had never met them as Steelhoof. Something was… different about the way he felt during those memories, almost as if they had taken place… Before he was Steelhoof. Steelhoof was never usually one to obsess over his previous life, something that had always seemed lost to him, but the idea that he may have had a past here was certainly something that he wanted to pursue. He might even have family, although it might be hard for him to meet them.  Although weary about approaching strangers, especially ones who might have known him as he used to be, curiosity overcame caution, and he followed, his body low to the ground.

Applejack paused, stopping midstep. She could have sworn she heard something hit the ground behind them. Something heavy.

“Wassup sis?” Big Mac asked his sister, mild concern flickering across his features.

“Nuthin. Jus’ thought ah heard somethin’ is all.” She replied, looking back with a frown.

Applejack shook her head and resumed discussing the next applebuck. Thanks to many recent events, they were behind on their work and may even need to draft in extra hooves to get back on schedule. They left just as a large metal pony emerged from the bushes and crept after them...