An old stallion with a dark auburn coat and a weather saddlebag walked down a dirt road. He rubbed his tired eyes and adjusted the bag on his crooked back. The midday sun beat down on his head particularly hard, and he missed his lost straw hat.
He came to the top of a hill and strained to see a mechanized vehicle off in the distance. It rustled and buzzed of strained moving parts loud enough to echo across the countryside. The old stallion carefully took of his saddlebag and positioned himself on the side of the road. The vehicle approached with two riders.
"What a waste that was, Flim!" one of the riders - male, unicorn, cold eyes, fake mustache, red-orange and white hair, light peach skin, cutie mark; red apple with a slice missing - cried, "What on Earth went wrong!?"
The old stallion fished out a hook and some string from his pack.
"Nothing but bad luck, dear brother!" the other rider - male, unicorn, calculating eyes, similarly featured, likely brothers, cutie mark; a red apple slice - responded, "It's a sign, you see; our fortune merely lies over the horizon, awaiting our arrival!"
"Oh, I see!"
The vehicle passed the old stallion and its riders paid him no attention. He swung his hook up above him and launched it at the vehicle's back wheels. It caught itself in the spindles of the left rear tire and shattered it. The vehicle collapsed backwards and slid along the road before it began to spin. Friction soon slowed the wreckage.
The old stallion next collected a wrist mounted crossbow and slipped his right hoof into it. He loaded a bolt and attached another string to the firing mechanism. With the other half of the string clenched between his teeth, he approached the wreck.
"Uggh…" said the first rider, "Are you alright, Flim?"
The second rider pulled himself out from underneath some of the vehicle's ruined machine and wiped his nose. "I-I'm fine, Flam. Whatever happened? Did we hit a rock?"
The old stallion circled the wreck and stood before the riders. They noticed him quickly.
"Oh, excuse me, sir? Would you happen to be a mechanic?" the first rider ask.
The old stallion said nothing. He lifted his right arm and tilted his head. "Bits," he said.
The first rider blinked incredulously. "Bits? Why, we'd be happy to pay you for your services once we-"
"I… I believe he means to rob us, Flam!!" the second rider said.
"Rob us!?" said the first.
The old stallion gritted the string in his teeth and aimed his crossbow at the first rider. "Give me whatever bits you have on you and I will let you live," he said coldly.
"S-Sir!" said the first, "We… My brother and I are a poor sort, sir, and we-"
"All money we have is for our sick mother, you see!" said the second, "Sir, please, let us be on our way and nopony will hear of this!!"
"I don't care about your mother," the old stallion said, "Give me what bits you have or I will kill both of you and take them. Choose now."
"O-Oh… Oh my," the first said, "Why, I think he's quite serious, Flim…"
"I t-think he's deadly serious, Flam!"
"Fetch the purse! Give it to him before he does something terrible!"
"R-Right!"
The second rider dug around the wreckage near him and searched for their coin purse. He soon pulled an aged scarlet purse from underneath some wooden planks and tossed it to the feet of the old stallion.
"There you are, sir!" the second said, "Now… now let us leave in peace!"
The old stallion paused a moment, then, with his crossbow still aimed at the first, he bent down and collected the purse. He backed away and relented and returned to his pack before heading off on his way. He slipped the crossbow and the purse inside.
He had made it over the next hill and out of sight of the riders when he shifted into the form of a middle aged, faded purple mare with copper eyes and a silver mane. He paused to adjust his pack to fit his new slender form and headed past a wooden sign.
Ponyville, 2 miles.