Big, sloppy tears dribbled down Fluttershy’s face. “P-please b-be careful while you visit your family at the rock farm,” she stammered out between sobs. Gummy peered over her bubblegum mane and blinked wetly.
“Awww, I can’t leave ‘til you’re smiling,” Pinkie said with a frown.
Twilight’s eyes darted from the open doors of the train to the mess scattered around her hooves and the open suitcases in front of her. “Pinkie, I don’t know if we have time to—”
“All aboard!” an earth pony stallion called out over the train platform from the train’s threshold. His beige-colored coat and short, chocolate-colored mane appeared well-groomed. He stuffed a hoof into his vest pocket, then pulled out a brass chain and the attached pocket watch. He snapped it open and checked the time. When nopony responded, he slammed a hoof down and shouted again, “ALL ABOARD!”
The sound of the train whistle blasted over the crisp morning air. Several other ponies scrambled to get on or off the train. Pinkie re-packed her bags with a fervor that bordered on manic. Ponies debarked and swarmed around her, while her friends stood around, sweating, furtively glancing at the Ponyville town clock.
“Twilight, do you still have the checklist?” Pinkie asked.
“Yes, it’s right—” Twilight said as she puffed out her chest and patted her saddlebag. “Um…”
“Here!” Pinkie said as she reached into Fluttershy’s mane and produced a checklist that unrolled so far it flopped down the platform and out of sight over the horizon. Rainbow Dash’s mouth fell open. She flapped a little higher into the air and squinted at the horizon, trying to see the end of the scroll, but to no avail.
A stallion with tan fur and a vest darted past Pinkie and her friends in the wrong direction. “I need to use the little colts’ room. I’ll be on the train in just a minute!” he said to the stallion trotting right behind him.
The other stallion, a grey, muscular specimen, shook his head and replied, “No way— I’m going with you.”
“Th-that isn't necessary,” said the tan stallion.
The grey one shook his head again and replied without blinking, “I’m not letting you out of my sight.” His companion sighed, and they both trotted into the stallions’ restroom.
“Lead pipe, revolver, knife, candlestick, and rope,” Pinkie said, as she packed each item into her suitcase. Fluttershy had stopped sniffling and watched in awe as Pinkie stuffed so many things into her suitcase that it shouldn't have fit in the train, much less a mid-sized travel carry-on with balloon stickers slapped on the outside.
“Check,” Twilight replied as she ticked off several more items on the absurd scroll.
Another pair of ponies shuffled past the friends towards the platform. “Are you sure that’s everything, ma’am?” a young, pimply-faced, white stallion grunted to an ancient mare. He trundled behind her, pulling a cart stuffed to overflowing with odds and ends.
The old, periwinkle earth mare nodded and smiled warmly as she replied, “Thank you so much for helping an old nag like me.” He unloaded the cart into a growing pile of things next to the old mare. The pile seemed to contain everything including the kitchen sink, plus a cuckoo-clock, a full-length mirror, an old armoire, a faded couch, a hatrack, a bed frame, and more.
The young stallion wiped his brow with a grin. “That’s the last of it!” She nodded, gave him a bit, and waved as he trotted off.
“Are you sure you need seven hundred and forty-six sporks?” Twilight asked.
“No time, Twilight!” Pinkie replied.
A short distance away, a grey earth pony mare sat quietly on one of the station’s benches. She wrote in an open notebook. She had her nose buried in it, and her quill quickly scratched away. The little mint-colored unicorn next to her was trying, and failing, to get her attention. The unicorn poked her several times with a hoof and almost shouted, “Hey. Hey. HEY! I’m talkin’ to you! The train’s here!” She ground her teeth and hopped off of the bench. Once she stood on the platform, everypony could see just how short she was. The tip of her stubby horn wouldn't even reach Pinkie’s chin, but her voice was a little low to be a filly’s. She grumbled and lifted her luggage in her magic. It was only two suitcases, but each one was large enough to contain her entire body. She stomped in between the group of friends and nearly got packed into Pinkie’s suitcase by mistake.
“Huh? Mint-colored midget isn't on the list! Where’s my banjo?” Pinkie said, as she furiously slammed filled balloons into her suitcase. The small unicorn gave Pinkie the stink eye, but said nothing as she trotted into the train.
“Got it!” Twilight replied, holding the instrument aloft in her magic. Before she knew what happened, Pinkie swiped it and packed it. Twilight blinked in surprise, then ticked off another box. “Check.”
Another couple of ponies hopped off of a bench and strolled around the group of friends. They practically leaned on each other while tittering. “I love you, hot stuff,” the earth mare said to the pegasus stallion. They both had brick-red coats, but her mane was forest-green with a lustrous sheen, while his was a light cream. She cooed to him, whispering something in his ear that made both of them flush. He pulled her closer with his wing before whispering something back. Nopony could make out what they said, but it made the stallion wear a stupid grin. She smiled, and with droopy eyelids, nuzzled into his neck.
“Plaid deerstalker cap, smoking pipe, moustache, and magnifying glass,” Pinkie said as she packed each item.
Rarity leaned closer to Applejack and whispered, “How did she get that entire grand piano and her party cannon into that little travel bag? I glanced at that short unicorn, the one wearing the nice make-up, and when I turned back, they were gone!
Applejack’s mouth hung open as she whispered, “Don’t look now, but she just packed a dozen salted and smoked fish.”
“What?!” Rarity whispered harshly, as her head whipped back to watch Pinkie continue packing items.
“ALL ABOARD!” the stallion with the watch shouted again.
Pinkie tossed the last items into her suitcase, zipped it up, and darted to the train. “I’ll be back in about a week!”
“What about your tuba, your rock collection, and the—” Twilight shouted as Pinkie galloped away.
“Don’t worry about the tuba! Throw me the rock collection!” Pinkie shouted back.
Twilight gasped and shouted, “WHAT?! I don’t want to damage them!”
“Throw ‘em, Twilight! They’re rocks!” Pinkie cried over the platform.
Twilight went cross-eyed for a moment. “Oh yeah…” she mumbled, as she used her magic to launch enough rocks at Pinkie that it should have qualified as an artillery strike. Pinkie unzipped her travel luggage, caught the rocks, zipped it back up, and didn't even break her stride.
“Just rub Gummy’s belly for smiles! And don’t forget to feed him!” Pinkie called over her shoulder.
“I won’t!” Fluttershy called back. She twisted her head to look at Gummy, still on her back. “Don’t worry, Gummy. I’ll take good care of you,” she sniffed. She gently picked him up with a wing and rubbed his belly with a forehoof. He grinned and drooled, making Fluttershy crack a weak smile. “Awww, he’s a sweetie. I guess he’s not too sad; Pinkie said he tends to bite things when he’s—” Just then, Gummy jumped up and latched his fangless mouth onto Fluttershy’s face. “mmmMMMMhhhnnn!!!” she squealed.
While Twilight tried to pry Gummy off of Fluttershy, Applejack and Dash rolled on the tile platform, laughing. Rarity waved to Pinkie, who was leaning out of the window as the train pulled away from the station. “Have fun, Pinkie! Say hello to your family for me!” Rarity hollered over the sounds of the train.
“I will, and I won’t forget to write!” Pinkie shouted back.
Two stallions thundered past the five mares still standing on the platform. Rarity watched as the large, grey stallion followed the other as they chased the train. “Wait up!” the tan stallion yelled.
They hopped aboard the train just as it started to really pick up speed. The conductor gave them a hard glare as he slammed the door closed behind them. The train’s whistle blew a strong note before it chugged down the tracks and disappeared from sight.
“Oh no, I think she forgot something,” Twilight said, picking up a small object off the tile floor in her magic.
“What did she forget?” Fluttershy asked, as she whipped her long, pink tail back and fourth. Once Twilight had pried Gummy free, he latched onto Fluttershy’s tail. With a loud rip, half of Fluttershy’s tail came off, with Gummy still attached. He landed on his back with the hair still in his mouth. He blinked one eye, then the other, with a wet sound. Fluttershy’s cheeks turned bright red as she sank on the spot, hiding her face behind her mane, the remains of her tail between her legs.
“Hair emergency!” Rarity shouted. “Prep for extension replacement, stat!”
~~~~~
The conductor glared at them. “When I say ‘all aboard,’ I mean right now, not in ten minutes! I like to keep to the schedule!” He pointed at the clock he bore on his flank, then stomped a hoof. He lifted the same hoof and held it up. “Well?”
“Well what?” the big, grey stallion rumbled. His mane was grey as well, but darker. His cutie mark almost blended with his coat; it looked like a chunk of rock.
“Tickets, please,” the conductor said, with his nose raised in the air. His mouth was a flat line as he stared down the muscular stallion.
“Our tickets are right here.” The tan stallion fumbled to pull out the two tickets from his vest pocket and hoofed them over, but not before accidentally popping out the monocle attached to a chain as well. His green vest shimmered, the silk thread light and airy. The four leaf clover on his flank matched his vest. He stuffed the monocle back into place.
The conductor took both tickets and read them. “Felix and Slate. That’s you and you?” he asked, pointing to the tan stallion, then his larger companion.
Felix replied, “Yep, that’s us. Right, Slate?” He turned to the grey stallion. Slate gave the conductor nothing more than a nod and a glare.
The conductor checked his pocket watch again, punched their tickets, then gave them back. “Please be in the dining car at six o’clock; I will be serving dinner at that time. You can leave your luggage here.” Felix and Slate looked around to see they were surrounded by bags and luggage of all shapes and sizes. “This way, please.” The conductor trotted away from them without looking in their direction. He opened the door to the car, took the single stride across the short walkway with the wind in his ears, then opened the door to the next train car.
“HIYA!” A pink face was inches away from his own. He stumbled back into Slate, who didn't budge. He might as well have been made of rock. The conductor blinked and shook his head before he trooped into the next car, sliding past the pink mare. Slate and Felix followed him.
They were inside a cramped hallway with several sleeping bunks set along each side. “Your assigned bunks are on the tickets.” He turned to the pink mare. “Hello to you as well. Ticket, please,” he said, as he held out a hoof.
She bounced in place without moving her head or breaking her grin. All he could see was her face, then her neck. When she came down after the fourth bounce, her ticket was in her mouth. It took three more bounces before he recovered enough to take the ticket. “Pinkamena Diane Pie?”
“Yepperooni! That’s me! What’s your name?”
He couldn't help but smile, she was so… bubbly. He particularly liked mares that asked him for his name, rather than customers that treated him like a servant. “My name is Whistle Stop. Can I take your bags for you?”
She kept bouncing, the luggage on her back bouncing with her. “Sure!” She dropped it at his hooves on the next bounce.
“I’ll just put this away—hnnggg!” He clamped his teeth around the handle and tried to lift it. It felt like it weighed a ton! “What’s in this thing? Horseshoes? Buckles? Cannons?”
She giggled and snorted, “Cannons? No, just the one.”
He smirked at her. “Right, well don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” After grunting and dragging her small piece of luggage into the next car, he returned to find the rest of the customers.
Shuffling down the aisle, he stopped in front of the short, mint-colored unicorn lounging on her bunk. Her dull purple mane and tail hid most of her. She turned when she felt the tap on her shoulder, revealing the metallic star-burst on her flank. He held out a hoof and opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it. “Here’s my ticket,” she said. It floated into his hoof with a minty aura. Her smile matched the voice, high and sweet, and her short stature made Whistle Stop think of his own little filly.
“Thank you. Are you old enough to travel on your own… Tiny Tinsel?” He read the ticket, and just below the name was her age. His eyes went wide.
“Yes I am, you piece of manure. ” Her voice had lost all of its sugar, only to be replaced with hot sauce. She glared at him as he punched her ticket and hoofed it back to her. “And it’s Miss Tinsel to you.”
Whistle Stop squatted a bit to get himself eye level with her. It was uncomfortable, but he felt as if he should endure some discomfort to make up for his transgression. “Yes, Miss Tinsel! I’m so sorry, I didn't mean—”
“Whatever,” she cut him off. “I've got lots of product to move and not much time to do it. Are we late? Did those two chuckleheads slow us down?”
“No, Miss Tinsel. I give you my word, I’ll do my best to ensure we’re on schedule.” Whistle Stop checked his pocket watch again.
She nodded and said, “Good, see that you do.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hoof.
Whistle Stop sighed, glad to get away from her explosive glare. He moved on to the next customer, an old, periwinkle earth mare. Her mane was once glamorous, but the color had drained out of it, bleaching it. Her cutie mark was a sepia toned medical cross. Whistle Stop silently thanked Celestia they had a medical pony onboard, even if she looked like his grandmother. He held out his hoof and said, “Ticket, please.”
With a shaky hoof, she gave him her ticket. “Here you are, sonny.” Her voice was creaky, but warm.
He figured this mare was an elder, but just to be sure, he checked the name and age. “Thank you Mrs... Ol’ Bitty. If you require any assistance, please do not hesitate to call me. My name is Whistle Stop.”
She let out a dry chuckle. “Don’t worry about these old bones, I’ll be fine. And just call me Bitty.”
“Yes, Mrs. Bitty.” He punched her ticket and hoofed it back. His ears swiveled around; behind him, he heard the sounds of two ponies apparently engaged in a wrestling match. “One moment, Mrs. Bitty.”
He pivoted around and found the source of the noise. It was behind the privacy curtain in one of the bunks. He ripped the curtain open and looked inside. Two ponies, both brick-red in color, were entwined with each other. Her mane was a lustrous forest-green, and her cutie mark a leaf with a tiny flame on it. The mare had the stallion in quite the lip-lock. Whistle Stop blushed, but held out a hoof as his duties demanded and said, “Tickets, please.”
A sound like a toilet plunger being removed from a bowl issued from their lips as they came apart. The stallion brushed his cream-colored mane into something less messy, while spreading his wing to hide his special somepony. His cutie mark, a flame with a white circle and a slash through it, revealed itself as he turned. He looked up at Whistle Stop and glared. “Do you mind?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I must punch your ticket before we go any further.” He held out his hoof closer to the pair, invading the stallion’s personal space.
The pegasus batted his hoof away and said, “Alright, alright, you don’t have to get pushy. Here,” he said, as he snatched the tickets pinched between the windowsill and the closed blinds. He slapped them into Whistle’s hoof. “Hurry up, will ya? I've got… stuff to do.”
A hoof snaked around his neck from out of sight, as a soft voice said, “Stuff, huh? What kind of stuff?”
The stallion’s grin split his face. “Hot stuff…” he whispered back to her.
Whistle Stop rolled his eyes. He read the tickets quickly and punched them. “Based on the genders printed on these tickets, I assume you’re Mr. Hot Shot, and the mare with you is Miss Ignis. Correct?”
He patted the hoof around his neck. “That’s right, soon to be Mrs. Shot.” Hot Shot’s eyes closed, as the hoof around his neck started to trace a slow line from his neck down his chest.
Before that hoof reached the sheets covering Hot Shot’s waistline, Whistle Stop blushed again. “Thank-you-very-much!” he said, and slid the curtain closed before things got out of hoof. He heard a soft sigh, followed by giggling from the bunk. Turning back to the old mare, he whispered, “I’m sorry if they’re bothering you, ma’am. If you’d like, I can get you another bunk.”
Ol’ Bitty shook her head and smiled. “It’s no trouble, dearie. Why, I was just like them forty-three years ago when I met my husband. All he’d have to do was look at me and I’d get so—”
“THANK-YOU-MA’AM! If you need anything else, just ask!” Whistle Stop spoke loudly and trotted away quickly. The last thing he wanted was to associate that with Ol’ Bitty. Shuddering, he trotted to the back of the sleeping car and found, seated in the corner, another earth pony. Her dull grey coat was in sharp contrast to the frizzy, two-tone, red mane. While the two ponies in the bunk had more muted colors, her mane’s reds were talkative and loud. She seemed to be curled into the corner of the seat, trying to take up as little room as possible. He couldn't see her eyes; her mane covered her face when she looked down into that notebook resting on the table in front of her. The quill in her mouth hovered over the page, occasionally scratching a few words into it; it matched her cutie mark, an open book with a quill resting on top.
“...” She mumbled something inaudible and scribbled out several words with angry slashes of the quill.
“Ticket, please,” Whistle Stop said quietly. When he held out a hoof she shrank away like he was going to strike her. His eyes went wide and he put his hoof back on the floor. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just need to punch your ticket.” He spoke with placating tones, but she still quivered as the ticket was produced. It was stuck in her notebook like a bookmark, several pages back. She never looked up at him while he read the ticket. “Quiet Quill, right?” He looked at her, but she didn't respond. “You can just nod, that’s okay.” She did. He punched the ticket and set it on the seat next to her. “Dinner is at six o’clock, and if you’d like, you can sit in the back of the dining car. It’s a little quieter there. Just say the word, and the seat is yours.” He smiled warmly as he spoke, but since she didn't look up, it was lost on her. After several seconds without a response, his smile vanished, and he sighed. Whistle glanced away and was about to leave when he heard the rip of paper. A note pushed into his chest; he took it instinctively. Opening it, he read: Back seat, thanks. He smiled and said, “No problem, Miss Quill.”
~~~~~
The clock chimed for the sixth time as Pinkie bounced into the dining car, her hooves making her trademark pronk on each jump. The dining car sat all the way at the back of the train, behind the sleeping quarters. The seats had plenty of room to stretch one’s legs. Although they were hardwood, they were contoured for comfort. The carpet was a worn beige, just like the rest of the train. Gas lights flickered at regular intervals down the caboose; they automatically ignited about half an hour ago during sunset. Combined with the soft swaying of the train, it gave the entire car a warm, homey feel. Dark shadows whipped past the windows, but they seemed far removed from the ponies here. Polished cherrywood tables set between the seats added to the atmosphere. There were enough place settings for at least two dozen ponies, but less than half were occupied at the moment. Pinkie pronked once more and stopped at the first table. Felix and Slate sat side by side, with Slate closest to the aisle. “Oooooohhh—can I try that?” she asked, pointing to the gold chain hanging out of Felix’s vest pocket.
“Skedaddle, ya freak!” Slate growled, as he grabbed Pinkie’s hoof.
Pinkie gasped, “You want to dance with me? OKAY! How does the skedaddle go? Is it like this?” Without straining, she whirled into a funky two-step, dragging the sputtering Slate along with her. Halfway down the car, Slate recovered and jerked away from her.
“Leave me alone, you crazy pinko!” He stumbled back to Felix, who grinned like an idiot.
“I think she likes you,” Felix whispered to Slate over the table.
He deadpanned at Felix, then sighed, “What makes you think that?”
Felix snickered again and said, “‘Cause she’s right behind you!”
Indeed, Pinkie reappeared behind Slate, who spun his head around to look at the smiling pink mare. “I’m not leaving ‘til you’re happy,” she chirped.
Slate narrowed his eyes at her and grumbled, “I’ll be happy if you beat it, freak! Scram!”
“You promise?” she asked, with a massive grin. He nodded. “Oki-doki-loki,” she said, as Pinkie pronked away. Slate couldn't help but smile, a wolfish grin that made Felix avert his eyes when Slate looked at him.
Ignis and Hot Shot were seated near the front of the car, next to each other. Honestly, they weren't even taking up two seats, since she sat in his lap. Pinkie bounced past them as Ignis stuck her muzzle in Hot Shot’s ear and said or did something to make his smile grow exponentially. He hugged her tight, and she seemed to melt into him. As Pinkie passed by them, Ignis sighed and rolled her eyes. They stopped and lingered on Felix, while she licked her lips. Hot Shot was still buried in her chest, softly kissing her. Pinkie stopped; her ears swiveled backwards when she heard Hot Shot growl, “Who are you looking at?”
“You, of course!” Ignis replied with a lilting voice.
“No you aren't! You’re looking at that fancy stallion over there!” Pinkie turned to watch as Hot Shot glared at Felix. “I’m gonna—” Ignis grabbed his head with both hooves and forced him to look at her.
She kissed him right on the lips, instantly blowing out his anger, like snuffing a candle. “Don’t worry about him, Hots.”
“I don’t want you staring at him!” Hot Shot stood, pulling Ignis with him. He corralled her into the next car, watching Felix like a hawk the entire time. When Ignis passed by, Felix glanced at her and twiddled his eyebrows. Ignis smirked at him, while Hot Shot stared daggers at him.
Pinkie shrugged and bounced further down the car. She pronked by Tiny next, who glowered at her plate and the clock on the wall with equal fury. Pinkie considered performing a little prank on Tiny, involving a rubber chicken, cherry-mint bubblegum, and four toothpicks, which never failed to get a laugh out of ponies, although not always the victims of said prank. Tiny Tinsel gave Pinkie a look that froze her in place. “Uh, maybe later,” Pinkie said, as she put the items away.
“When is he going to get here? I’m hungry,” Tiny complained loudly.
Felix laughed and called back to her, “Chill out, short stuff. Try to enjoy the ride!”
She turned her head in short ticks before her eyes found him. If looks could kill, Felix would be carbonized. “What. Did. You. Call. Me?” she shot at him with deadly calm, biting off each word.
Felix seemed impervious to murder via facial expression. “I said, chill out, Minty. Enjoy the ride.”
Her eye twitched, and Pinkie could barely hear her mumble under her breath, “I will kill you, slowly.” She stood and trotted up to Felix. He was still taller than her, even seated. “Say that again, I dare you!” Slate didn't move much, but his body seemed to coil like a spring.
Felix sipped his coffee, seemingly oblivious to the mint-colored explosive right in front of him. He leaned forward and sighed, “Look I’m just making— oops.” His coffee sloshed in the cup, as he leaned forward and splattered some into Tiny’s face. She closed her eyes as coffee dribbled down her neck. “Eh-heh, sorry about that,” Felix said.
“AHHHH,” she howled in frustration. She stomped into the next car before Felix could say anything more. He shrugged at Slate, who relaxed in his seat.
Pinkie giggled and pronked further down the car. She approached the old mare, who was seated in the middle of the car. Her tiny frame didn't seem large enough to occupy the chair, much less the entire table, by herself. She snored softly, her head on her chest, a small bubble on her nostril growing and shrinking in time with her breathing. Pinkie sat herself down across from Bitty and chirped, “Heya, are you hungry?”
Bitty snorted, the bubble popped, and she blinked a bleary set of watery eyes as she looked at Pinkie. “Huh? Oh, is it dinner time already? I must have dozed off.” She sighed, looking at her reflection on the empty plate. “This reminds me of my family. We used to eat dinner together every night in our dining room. It had beige walls and hardwood chairs that felt like these.”
Pinkie laughed and said, “Well, let’s make it mini-family night! Hey, nice pony! Yeah, you, the one with the notebook! Get over here and have dinner with us! Please? I won’t steal your dessert… probably!” Pinkie called out to Quiet Quill, who sat in the far corner of the dining car, with a half dozen tables in between the two of them. Quill shrank in her seat, hiding her head behind her forehooves. Pinkie practically vibrated in her seat with a huge smile on her face, but after a moment when it was obvious Quill wasn't going to join them, she said, “Oh c'mon, I won’t bite. You. Just your dessert. Okay-okay-okay, you drive a hard bargain; I’ll trade for your dessert. How about—”
Ol’ Bitty stood and said, “Excuse me, I need to use the little fillies’ room.” She shuffled into the next car, leaving her cane on her seat.
At that moment, the dining car door opened and Whistle Stop trotted inside. He pulled a cart laden with silver chargers, each covered with a matching dome. There was one for each customer. Felix licked his lips as Whistle Stop placed the first in front of him and Slate. He removed the domes with a flourish before trotting to the next table. Honey oats, an apple, asparagus, tomato soup with alfalfa, a small chocolate molten cake for dessert, and water to drink. It wasn't exactly a five-star meal, but any hungry pony would be more than willing to eat it.
Felix chatted with Slate, who only grunted at him, while they ate dinner. Since they were served first, it took a minute before Whistle Stop served Pinkie. The car door opened and Bitty shuffled back to her seat, across from Pinkie. Pinkie clapped her hooves together like a filly when Whistle Stop removed the dome to her meal. “CHOCOLATE!” she cried, and ate her dessert first, in one bite, without the use of utensils.
“Heh heh, you remind me of my granddaughter,” Bitty chuckled over her steaming plate. She took a spoonful of soup and blew on it for a moment before sipping it down. “Ahh, you do a fine job, Mr. Stop,” she called out to him. Whistle Stop stared, transfixed, watching Pinkie devour her food. It was like watching a boa constrictor eat an egg. His face held a mixture of awe and horror.
The car door opened again; Ignis and Hot Shot returned to their seats. Ignis looked quite pleased with herself, while Hot Shot looked like he had just taken a brisk jog alongside the speeding train. Both held silly grins. They sat, and Hot Shot exclaimed, “I’m as hungry as a racehorse!” He attacked his food with vigor. Ignis scowled when she looked at her plate. “What?” Hot Shot asked, when he noticed her face.
“I didn't get the salad I wanted,” she replied quietly to him. She put a hoof on his shoulder when he moved to stand. “Don’t worry about it.”
Shaking his head, Whistle Stop turned to the last table at the back of the dining car. Trotting to the back, he set the plate before Quiet Quill and removed the dome. He smiled and waited for a response, when the train car door opened again. Whistle Stop turned to see who would enter the car, when he heard a crunch. He whipped his head around to see a bite eaten out of Quill’s apple. Yet, Quill still hadn't appeared to move. He smiled again, crow’s feet appearing under his eyes. Light hooffalls made him turn to see Tiny trotting into her seat, her coat looking freshly cleaned. She sat and started eating in silence. Whistle sighed; dinner was served, and everything was running smoothly, on time. In another four hours, he would kill the lights and get some well-deserved rest.
Clack!
The entire car was engulfed in darkness, as every light in the car winked out. Pinkie heard the shuffling of hooves.
“Hey, who turned out the lights?”
“Stop touching my leg!”
“Where’s the light switch?”
“Everypony freeze!”
“Who’s there?”
“I can’t see a thing, somepony turn on the light!”
“Oh my!”
Thunk! STOMP-Stomp-stomp
“Ooofff!”
“What was that?”
“Whose leg is this?!”
“Pffft, get your wing out of my face!”
“I’d turn on the lights if I knew where the TARTARUS-DAMNED SWITCH IS!”
“I think I found it! I’ll turn it on now!”
“Ow, no that’s my nose.”
“Oops, sorry.”
“Stop moving around! You’re all making it worse!”
CRASH-Splash-Drip-drip-drip
“AHHH!”
“Is everypony alright?!”
“Did somepony spill water?”
“Careful, there might be water on the floor.”
“Did someone slip?”
Nom-nom-nom!
“Who’s eating at a time like this?”
“Get your hooves off of me!”
“I said, STOP!”
“Oh, for Celestia’s sake!”
Clack!
The lights flickered on. Everypony looked around, blinking as their pupils shrank in the glow of the light. The dining car was an impressive mess. Quiet Quill had sank under the table, clutching her notebook. Her dinner had turned into a sloppy mess; the water glass had been knocked over and dripped onto the floor. Her dessert was missing as well; in its place, somepony had placed a salted and smoked fish. Whistle Stop stood over her, his hoof on the light switch at the back of the car. Ol’ Bitty was curled into her seat, clutching her cane, as if it would shield her. Pinkie sat across from her, chocolate all over her face and hooves. Tiny Tinsel stood on the table next to her dinner, her wide eyes darting everywhere; for once, she had a good view of the room. Ignis was curled up in Hot Shot’s forehooves, hugging him around the neck. He looked around him, his eyes and ears darting every which way. Slate stood at the front of the car, guarding the exit, stony-faced.
Felix was gone.
In his place was a red stain all over his seat and plate, dripping onto the floor, seeping into the carpet. It drew everypony’s eye, making heartbeats rise in panic.