Pinkie didn’t know why, but she always expected that there would be more outside of Rockville. She didn't exactly know what, but all she knew at this moment was that she was impeccably bored.
She smushed her face against the paneling of Mine Hutch’s cart as it rattled along the uneven terrain. She would have preferred to walk, but Mine Hutch had insisted that she rest while she could. This left her with even less to occupy her excitable mind as the world flattened into a vast expanse of desolate grays and earth tones.
All she heard was the wheels' squeaking until Mine Hutch abruptly broke the silence. “Well, Maud, what work will thee pursue in the outside world?”
Pinkie perked up, surmounting the pile of stone in Hutch’s cart to get as close to him as possible. She recognized that he had used the wrong name, but it wasn’t a new occurrence. She hummed as she thought it over.
“I’m Pinkie, and I’m not sure,” she admitted reluctantly. “All I know is that I’m going to Ponyville first.”
Hutch took a moment to trudge along further before surprising Pinkie with his answer. “‘Tis a fair plan for a young pony. Time is on thy side. Thy calling may aid thy decision.”
“Well, my cutiemark is three balloons. I got it after throwing my family a party! I realized that making other ponies happy makes me happy. So, I guess I’m called to make ponies happy. I just have to figure out the best way to do that,” Pinkie said with dwindling energy.
“Thine options are many. Happiness arises from various sources. What of thy skills?”
“Well…” Pinkie started, rubbing the back of her head in contemplation, “I can read music and sing! Ooh, ooh, I know lots about folktales. A-and I can uh… I can make rock candy! Just don’t ask me about actual rocks b-because…because I’m not too good with those.”
The plague of listlessness was starting to smother Pinkie again, but she shook it away, focusing on the conversation at hoof.
“Does any of that sound useful?” Pinkie questioned. “Have you ever left the Plain Mr. Mine Hutch? Do the Equish like that type of stuff?”
“Aye, Marble. Moons ago, when I was a kind such as yourself. Bright of eye and full of life. I looked unto the Equish and found a multitude of discordant layers. ‘Twas nay impossible to find one’s part within the fray,” Hutch explained with unusual airiness.
“I’m Pinkie, and what do you mean by, ‘layers?’”
“I mean hochmut.” Hutch spat. “Pride. They were too proud! Even the Equish earthponies saw themselves as above or below their peers, never as a part. Thou understand the importance of being a part.”
Pinkie understood, as all good Plain ponies did, what Hutch was talking about. She recognized the old Ponyslvanian Dutch word, hochmut, from the trillions of times it was discussed in congregation and brought up by her parents.
It was arrogance, flashiness, an over the top self-importance that disrupted the balance of nature itself. To pride oneself over others was to pride oneself over nature. And to pride oneself over nature was to pride oneself over Providence.
The Plain don’t believe in or worship a central divine entity but the inherent interconnectivity of nature. To them, all things, whether they be ponies or stones, were a part of the same whole. To honor that system, and to consequently honor oneself, one must live in harmony with all things.
The idea of a society filled with ponies reveling in their arrogance frightened Pinkie more than any exaggerated story Limestone had told her. It was the antithesis of virtually everything she was taught to value.
Sensing Pinkie’s impending dread, Mine Hutch offered a remedy. He stopped the cart and unhitched himself. Pinkie watched him curiously as he dug through his cargo and apprehended a tattered book. She took it from him, ignoring its pungent smell and frail yellowed pages.
“A Foal’s Guide to Greater Equestria?” Pinkie murmured, reading the faded lettering on its front.
“‘Twas mine, and now ‘tis thine. May thee find some wisdom in it,” Hutch explained, helping Pinkie out of the cart.
Pinkie studied it. It wasn’t like she needed another guidebook, especially after her mother took the time to write various pamphlets for her on multiple topics, from simple herbal remedies to properly negotiating business deals.
All bases were covered, yet the old guidebook still called to her. Like the old tome of scriptures that collected dust atop her family’s mantel, Hutch’s book clearly possessed some archaic wisdom.
She was thoroughly enchanted by its old-fashioned charm and accepted it. The book was thick and filled with long descriptions in antiquated language, even by Plain standards. There were a few maps and an “Equish to Plain” dictionary for key phrases in the back.
But the best part was the illustrations. Each description came with a caricature of its subject. Pinkie studied a few of them before Hutch drew her attention once more.
The ground around her was composed of an assortment of stone fragments. There was a construction of stones forming a rickety archway; it was most likely the titular Gravel Gate. Pinkie checked her sundial and found that they were earlier than expected. She sat down on her haunches, choosing to read to pass the time.
Mine Hutch stuck around for a while, unloading the stones in his cart into a neat pile.
When he finished, he wiped his forehead and wheezed out, “The cargo is paid for, somepony in the Gentle Smithing Caravan shall come to collect it. Might thee watch over it in the meantime while thee wait?”
Pinkie didn’t respond right away, mainly because she was barely listening. Eventually, she turned a page in the guide and nodded slowly. Seeing that his shipment was in good hooves, he parted from Pinkie with one final farewell.
“Take care young Limestone. May thy life be enlightened by thy path, and may thy path be aligned with Providence.”
The squeaking began once more as Mine Hutch shuffled away. Pinkie, who was completely ensnared by her book, managed a paltry wave goodbye.
“Thank you, sir, you too. Goodbye,” she mumbled to nopony in particular after some time.
The outer world seemed to fade away as she read on. Most wouldn’t consider Pinkie an avid reader since she tended to be distractible, but A Foal’s Guide to Greater Equestria felt different. It piqued her natural curiosity about the world and the many creatures that inhabited it.
She grew more excited with each page as she read about donkeys, buffalos, and batponies. Although she had seen a few of these creatures in passing already, from faded pages she could make out accounts of more fantastical creatures like zebras or dragons or yaks.
She imagined what they might like. What made them happy and why. If she were to throw a party for them, what would they want? In her isolation, all she could do was think, and as she thought on and on, the sun floated along its path.
Time passed, and the breeze picked up. The guide’s pages, which were barely held together by its loosened seams, flipped and flickered in the wind. Within the blink of an eye, a mighty gust of wind came, detaching several pages from the dilapidated book.
Pinkie gasped as she watched them sweep into the air and swirl around her. She slammed the book shut, collected her saddlebags, and sprinted to make the book whole again. Her vision tunneled as the chase started, her tiny hooves carrying her further and further from the gate.
The pursuit was like a game. She hopped and rolled and galloped to collect each piece. One page had a road map of Hollow Shades while another described Manehattan. There was even a heavily stained page on these tiny creatures called breezies, with an image of a small fairy-like pony.
Pinkie marveled at this one, wondering why nopony had told her about these creatures. She held the page up to the sun to get a better idea of what it said. It was then that she became acutely aware of how much time had passed. The sun wasn’t where it was supposed to be.
Or maybe, Pinkie wasn’t where she was supposed to be.
“Oh no,” Pinkie mumbled with a gulp, turning on her hooves to find herself far from Gravel Gate.
She hastened back, returning to the archway only to find the worst possible outcome. Nopony was nearby, and Mine Hutch’s cargo was gone. She looked outward and saw the faint outline of a large group walking. It was apparent that they weren’t getting any closer.
Pinkie watched them go, as her heart began to sink. Her journey had just started, and she had already messed up.
“You ruined it! How could you,” she bemoaned, holding her head in her hooves, “why do you alwa-”
“They’re not too far. You have time to catch up if you hurry,” reassured a voice that was as uneven as the gravel beneath Pinkie’s hooves.
A shadow loomed over Pinkie, and she looked up to find a canine-like creature, a diamond dog, towering over her. He stared down at her with translucent green eyes. He wore a tattered vest that was covered in dirt, presumably from the hole behind him that he recently burrowed out of.
Pinkie knew it was inadmissible to talk to strangers, and there were quite a few stories of diamond dogs stealing from the Plain. But Pinkie knew diamond dogs that were nothing like that.
More of them had arrived in her village to work on the larger farms since the railroad commission was issued. If this diamond dog was anything like the few she knew, then he could be trusted. Either way, her mother did tell her to ask for help.
“I’m supposed to travel with Gentle Smithing, do you know if that's them?” Pinkie questioned, pointing to the distance.
The diamond dog looked at her with a grimace and bit his lip. “Uh…I…uh maybe.”
Pinkie wasn’t too enthused by his answer, maybe she hadn’t missed the caravan. But then things weren’t adding up.
“Somepony in that caravan was supposed to take Mr. Mine Hutch’s cargo. But, if that caravan isn’t Gentle Smithing’s, then where did the cargo go?” Pinkie pondered aloud.
The diamond dog shrugged nervously. “Um…no idea kid.”
“If that is Gentle Smithing’s caravan, then I need to catch it! If not, then I have to go home,” Pinkie lamented. “But this is so strange! You and me are the only creatures for miles. What could hav-”
“Listen, kid,” the diamond dog interrupted hastily, “I got an idea.”
He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a bit. “If I flip heads, then you go with the caravan. I flip tails, you head home. Okay?”
He trained his eyes on Pinkie and waited for her to agree. She paced around in place, overcome by nervousness.
She thought it over. She was deeply uncertain if this was the right group, but the thought of going home so soon tore her up inside. She wished she could be decisive like Limestone, smart like Maud, or good at following instructions like Marble.
But she wasn’t, or she didn’t feel like she was. She was just Pinkie.
Just Pinkie, who was bad at making decisions because she wasn’t smart enough to end up in good circumstances, and she was never in good circumstances because she didn’t know how to pay attention. This was a hard decision, which made the coin an enticing alternative.
Upon the border of a bit, the timeline splits in two. It was fifty-fifty. Left to fate or probability or even Providence. Whatever happened would happen, and all that Pinkie had to do was follow along.
With a gulp, she made her choice and sealed one of her fates. “Okay, okay go ahead.”
The diamond dog manipulates the coin in his claws, positioning it for launch. Time slowed down as Pinkie watched with rapt attention. The coin took flight, soaring high. It glistened with each revolution until it came crashing down with an anticlimactic plop.
The pair crowded around it, and the diamond dog heralded the good news.
“Heads! It looks like you’ve got a great adventure on your hooves!”
Simple words for such a monumental shift; it is here that the story diverges from what it is to what it could have been. A different face prevails, an alternative route is taken, and a new adventure begins.
Pinkie blinked a few times, coming to terms with the outcome. She looked up at the diamond dog to see a toothy smile. It was an unusual grin, but she liked it. She let it infect her, allowing her enthusiasm to return.
She grabbed the diamond dog’s claw, shook it, and smiled at him fondly. “Oh! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I was so worried, but now you’ve helped me. Let’s be friends. My name is Pinkie, what’s yours?”
The diamond dog seemed taken aback by the gesture, his claw grew limp in Pinkie’s grip. “It's uh…um…G-gate… Gravel.”
“Gate Gravel?” Pinkie repeated.
“Um…yeah.”
“Cool! Nice to meet you, Mr. Gate Gravel!”
Gate Gravel scratched the back of his head. “Yeah…uh…likewise. You know that group of yours won’t wait up, you should go.”
Pinkie facehoofed and scrambled to gather herself. “You’re so right, silly me! This whole blunder will be my last! Thank you, Gravel Gate! May Providence be with thee, and thee with it. Equestria, here I come!”
With that, Pinkie began a determined gallop at an impressive speed. She left a cloud of dust and an incredibly uneasy diamond dog in her wake. Once she was out of earshot, another voice arose from Gate’s hole. It was another diamond dog.
“She’s gone. Let’s patch up this hole and get out of here.”
“D-do you think she saw us? I think she trusted me. Do you think she’ll be okay?”
Gate’s companion groaned at his questions. “Who cares! The brat is gone, nice work dummy, or should I say, 'Gate Gravel.' Sweet Celestia, I can’t believe she fell for that.”
Gate sighed to himself. He didn’t know why, but a part of him hoped that she was heading to the right caravan. He trudged to join his companion, taking one last look at the open world, he offered a final well-wishing.
“Good luck Pinkie, you’re gonna need it.”