In the Dodge Junction town square, a tall, dark pegasus in a postal uniform was checking over his straps and buckles one last time in front of some admiring onlookers. His dark fur shone in the red light. A honey-colored mare came up to his side.
“Been a long time since I’ve seen a pony in uniform here,” she said. “My name’s Sugar Roll. What’s yours?”
“Tale Spin,” he said. “Two words.”
“I saw you dancing with some of the mares at the hoe-down last night,” she said.
“The mares of Dodge Junction have been very welcoming to this humble mailpony,” he said.
“You’re so brave,” she said. “Travelling through the waste, with all those raiders lying in wait for you.”
“Just doing my job, Ma’am,” he said. He reached up and straightened his cap.
“Well, Tale Spin,” she said. “Maybe next time you come, I’ll have a letter for you.”
Tale Spin lifted his head and gazed off stoically to the north. “I can’t say for sure as I’ll make it back, ma’am. Raiders and monsters at every turn, and all. But duty calls, and I answer. Now, my fellow carriers await me.” He snapped her a salute and flew off into the sunset.
“Damn fool can’t see a thing, flying into the sunset like that,” an old grey mare standing nearby said.
Sugar Roll sighed. “But it looks so fine.”
“Also, Appleloosa’s that-a-way.”
“Hey,” Sugar Roll said. “Why do we always call it the sunset, anyway?”
The grey mare blinked. “I don’t follow.”
Sugar Roll shaded her eyes with one hoof. “You ever think that maybe it’s a sun rise?”
.
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