//------------------------------// // The Germane // Story: Catch Your Own Train // by El Presidente //------------------------------// Chapter Four – The Germane Back through the streets the stallion went, taking his sweet, sweet time. He needn’t rush on his way to the café or back home to Vanilla’s—he simply enjoyed his time outside and admired the beauty of the town. It was charming in his eyes, and it just felt like home for him; it felt like it was where he was meant to be. So far, he thought he was off to a good start after leaving such a full life behind in Manehattan. That fellow at the inn—Twister Forte—Mike really liked him for one reason or another, he didn’t particularly know why. All Mike knew was that he’d made a friend, and that he would certainly show up to see him perform later that night. Perhaps he would be able to make a better impression then. The tall-standing stallion strolled along the path, bustling with technicolour ponies of all shapes and sizes. The streets he patrolled were lined with little houses with adorable gardens. It seemed he was straying quite far from where the inn was—he was either close to the café, or he was going completely the wrong way. Mike moved to the side of the path and with a sigh, he stopped to try and get his bearings. This was not how he imagined his first day of free-roaming in Ponyville—free as a bird one minute, lost the very next. The ponies walking about didn’t seem to be going in any particular direction; they were just on about their way, getting their lunches, having their fun—plenty of smiling faces and cheery sounds of laughter roaring from the groups and couples. Handsome Mike turned his head to glance back down the street, and then he looked the other way. He bit his lip and tried to decide what to do—go back or keep going and venture on, hoping to find something interesting. The latter sounded much more enticing to him, not to mention he had a few hours to kill. Not far from where he was, the road led to what looked like the centre of town—a big, grand fountain in the middle of the bustling little Ponyville. There was an array of shops surrounding the water feature in the centre. Plenty of ponies were around, having their conversations, enjoying their day out, but one particular pony stood out to Mike. The stallion narrowed his eyes and honed in on the lone individual. The pony was stood alone, looking confused, staring at the fountain. Mike approached the pony. She was a grey-green-coated, dark grey-maned mare, and as the tall, almost lumbering stallion drew closer, she turned to look over her shoulder. She still looked fairly concerned. Handsome Mike smiled a rather weak attempt at a reassuring smile, giving her a gentle wave. “Hey,” he called out so she could hear above the conversation of the townsfolk and other ponies around. “You look lost.” The stallion was putting some sympathy out on offer. She scoffed, embarrassed, and gave a short, rather hearty laugh. “Ja, ja I am,” she sighed, stepping toward him a bit. The accent she had had really caught Mike off guard. “I guess zat a girl in a new town doesn’t know her vay around too vell.” Trying to be polite and return the light-heartedness, Mike put a hoof to his chest and laughed with her, bowing his head slightly. “Hey, I know how you feel—I just moved here from Manehattan.” The idea that he had moved was a bit of a lie, but there was no reason to offload the news on somepony he just met. “This place can take some getting used to,” Mike commented as he looked around at the small buildings in their surroundings and the open, blue, and almost cloudless sky. “Zat is true,” the Germane-accented mare replied with a breathy sigh, following Mike’s gaze around in the blue sky. “It vould just be easier if ve could stay vhere ve vanted,” she added dreamily. Her gaze followed the directions of the stallion in front of her. That last addition intrigued Mike, and his interest turned back to her from his surroundings. Perhaps she was moving to escape trouble just like he was. “What do you mean?” Mike asked to clarify what she was saying—he could definitely sympathise with that. “I mean I came here for vork,” she responded. For a moment, she paused, as if trying to select the right words. It wasn’t hard to tell that Equestrian wasn’t her first language. “Do you vant to valk a little? I do not feel like standing here like idiots.” She made a rather annoyed chuckle, as she started to walk away. Obviously, she didn’t want to stay in the same place for two long—or at least if she was lost, she could be lost with somepony else. It looked like Mike really didn’t have a choice on the matter. The stallion rolled his eyes and jogged to catch up to her. It came as a shock to him how casual the encounter seemed to be. A lot of the time, Mike’s tall, looming presence was intimidating to a lot of shyer mares. Luckily for him, however, the braver ones tended to be nicer to him. “Work?” he questioned, trotting at her side as they moved off together in a seemingly random direction. He glanced curiously down at her flank to spy her cutie-mark—it was a golden shield. “What do you do?” She simply laughed in response. “You might say zat I am a ‘vell paid security-guard’.” Her occupation seemed like it would be rather confidential, but she wasn’t lying. Her cutie-mark had something to do with defence, at least. “Or zat’s vhat mein employers tell me to say,” the mare added with a sly smile. The two of them trotted along the narrow, dirt paths out of the town, moving towards the extremities of the little city—out into vast the open fields where the paths passed through the and along the tree lines. There were several ponies out and about in the fields, flying kites, playing ball—it must have been the park. The Germane mare and the tall Manehattanite stallion moved at a leisurely speed along the paths of the open grounds in the winter afternoon sun, enjoying their little conversation of back and forth small talk. Nevertheless, Mike wasn’t going to be telling about his heartbreak with home, and the mare was certainly keeping quiet about her job, or at least teasing at the confidential parts. Mike laughed cheerfully but quietly as the two of them moved along, gazing at the brilliant surroundings. “But you have to admit, even though we’re both far from home, this place just feels fantastic. It’s so beautiful,” he said with wonder, managing a small, warm smile across his face. The mare looked at him like he was mad, and she scoffed. “Ja, right.  Zis place may be pretty, but ve had country-sides back vhere I came from,” the Germane mare retorted. “Ah, but I guess I could understand vhy you feel zis vay. I have been to Manehattan, and I must say zat it is very boring.” Handsome Mike couldn’t necessarily deny that. It was industrious, stark and modern, and it certainly was boring and plain. Day to day life, in and out—wake up, work, go to bed. “Yeah,” he sighed in response, looking out across the horizon. A gentle silence fell upon the two of them. For a while, Mike remained staring out across the rolling hills of the surrounding fields, while the mare looked about a foot or two at the ground in front of her and kept walking. There wasn’t really much to talk about. He really hated these sudden breaks in conversation, but he had a feeling that they were always his doing, bringing up the touchy subjects. The path the two of them were following soon came to a close, turning back into cobblestones as they’d made a full round of the park together, and they were heading back into town, on their way back from the outskirts. From the street through town, a gust of cold wind blew suddenly in their direction. Mike shut his eyes and covered his face with his hoof. Feeling a bit annoyed with the wind, he looked to her, still shielded by his limb. From what it looked like, she really didn’t seem fazed by it in the slightest. “So, I’ve been looking for places to stay here,” Mike tried to speak over the wind. He would have bet those kite-fliers in the park were having a blast. “What about you? You holed up at the inn or you got yourself a place to stay for a while?” She rolled her eyes at Mike’s weakness to wind with a low chuckle before responding to his question. “I have myself an apartment—as a matter of fact, mein landlord said zat zere was a room for rent available. You should probably take a look, it’s right next to mine,” she said with a smile, looking up to him. “I could alvays do vith a friend who can speak better Equestrian than I can.” “Is that so?” Mike lowered his hoof from his face as he replied, laughing a tad at her comment regarding language—the wind had died as quickly as it started. He thought she was doing well—well enough so that he could understand her at least. He actually thought it was a fairly cute little accent she had. “Well, I’ll look into it. As long as the rent’s not too high, I’m sure it’ll be where I end up going, anyway.” Where they were walking now was more or less familiar territory to Mike. On their way back, they hadn’t passed the fountain, but Mike had spotted the inn. The mare breathed a gentle sigh. “Vell, I hope to see you zere.” It looked like she was going to leave and get home, but as she turned around, Mike put a hoof to her shoulder to stop her. A bit confused, the mare looked up at him expectantly. “Hey, uh,” he said, glancing back toward the inn that was in sight, less than a hundred feet away. He moved his hoof from her shoulder and stood taller. “There’re some guys I met playing at the inn tonight, and I’d like to know if you want to see them with me. They don’t play for ‘til 8 or something, but we could grab a bite to eat.” He cocked his head and still looked at her. “Yeah? Nah? We both need a friend—it’s not like this is a date or anything.” She chuckled and broke eye contact, staring off to the ground, gently kicking the dust beneath her as she considered; a small, perhaps embarrassed smile on her face. “As long as it is not a date,” the grey-green-coated mare said, agreeing to his proposal as she looked back up to him. Mike blinked, realising something he had forgotten. “I never told you my name, did I?” he asked. “It’s Mike. Handsome Mike.” He prayed that she wouldn’t take his name the wrong way, it had happened in the past with other mares—though this mare was different for Mike. She seemed pretty jolly and fun-loving. “Recruit,” she responded simply, putting a hoof humbly and proudly to her chest. The green-grey-coated mare began to walk. She barely even acknowledged the nature of his name. “I saw a good shop not far from here,” said Recruit, wanting Mike to follow. “I zink zat zey sell some very nice sandviches,” she chuckled. The stallion followed her, once again off on a trek to find some place to go and eat. In his long quest for food, however, he’d made a friend of Recruit—his interaction with Twister as a bit bumpy, so calling him a friend might have been a stretch—and he’d killed about an hour and a half of time. Now, he’d finally get to eat, because he had somepony to help him decide. Recruit and Mike moved off into town, disappearing into the crowds, once more resuming their conversation and making their way toward a delicious sandwich lunch together. The stallion had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time they went out together.