Morning came early for Midnight Drearier, and it came in the form of a heated discussion.
"I'm telling you, Wisp, there won't be one this far south! Maybe we'll run into one when we start making our way towards Manehattan, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you." Alabaster's voice was hoarse, and it pained him to talk. The cruel desert air wasn't being kind to him at all.
"All right," Whisper sighed, sounding far better than her friend did, “but you have to promise me that we'll stop by one when we finally make it to the big city. I've always wanted to go to a coffee shop!"
"Er... fine," he grumbled. “But I still don’t understand why you want to go to a stupid coffee shop.”
Midnight's eyes slowly opened to the sound of his newfound company. The first thing he noticed was that the sky was still dark. Stars shone like needle-sized holes on a black canvas. It must have been an hour until sunrise. The second thing Midnight noticed was how his aching muscles screamed in anguish. For a split second, he wondered if that angry mob from Dodge Junction had returned and trampled him in his sleep.
"Rise and shine, what's your name!" Alabaster called when he noticed Midnight stirring. "We have a long day ahead of us!"
Whisper shot him a dirty look as she stuffed her bedroll back in her saddlebag.
"Don't be rude, Al. His name is Midnight Dreary." Alabaster rolled his eyes.
"Whatever you say, just get moving! We need to start out before daylight."
Midnight wiped away the sleep from his crusted eyes and slowly pulled himself from the embrace of his bedroll. He couldn't help groaning as his legs and thighs throbbed painfully.
"What's the problem, Midnight Weary?" Alabaster asked, giving him a once over. The dark stallion took a shaky breath before answering.
"No problem, I'm just sore. It feels like I slept in front of a stampede." The way he was feeling, Midnight began to wonder if that was really the case.
Alabaster smiled in silent understanding. There had been many mornings where he had awoken in quite the same manner. It takes a hell of a pony to get used to sleeping on the cold hard ground, bedroll or no.
"Don't worry about it," he said warmly. "You start walking for a bit and you'll feel right as rain."
Midnight sighed, already dreading what lay ahead. The day was shaping up to be quite the drag. However, he tried not to give any sign of his ill disposition, and went about rolling up his bedroll with as much optimism as he could muster.
Within five minutes or so, the party was saddled up and ready to roll.
"All right, skipper," Alabaster addressed Whisper, “Do we have our heading?" Whisper beamed with an ungodly amount of enthusiasm.
"Yes sir! We be heading thatta way!" To Alabaster's satisfaction, she pointed in the complete opposite direction of Dodge Junction.
"Great," he sighed. "Well, let's get to it then."
***
Time crept by at a snail's pace for the travelers, and it was only marked by the drastic changes in the desert around them. The night sky slowly began to melt away, giving way to the crimson shades of dawn. Even the cool temperature started to rise as the sun made its ascension.
Alabaster shuddered as he watched the world around him, preparing for the day ahead. It wouldn't be long until the heat would be hot enough to boil blood.
Well, he thought hopefully, at least I don't have black fur.
As if to confirm his thoughts, he glanced down at his own pale coat and then over to Midnight Dreary. He seemed fine now, but how would he stack up when the heat comes?
I seriously hope this greenhorn doesn't pass out on us. Today is going to be hell enough without me having to carry his ass.
Unbeknownst to Alabaster, he wasn't the only one thinking about Midnight. Little Whisper peeked around Alabaster's head every few minutes and studied Midnight curiously. However, she wasn't worrying about him keeling over. Whisper's head swam with numerous questions that she almost ached to ask. It wasn’t every day that someone else traveled with them.
The early morning sky had turned into a blazing shade of gold when the silence between the three was finally broken.
"So Midnight," Whisper began, trying her best to contain herself. She absolutely loved getting to know people. "How did you get your name? You said that you were named after a storybook character, right? Did you get the chance to read that story?"
When Midnight didn't respond, Whisper started to wonder if she had said something that offended.
"No, I didn’t," he answered softly, much to Whisper's relief. “She wanted to show it to me, but the book had been lost a long time ago when she was a foal."
Whisper nodded slowly and remained silent for a while after that. No doubt biding her time until asking her next question. She definitely didn't want to ask him too much at once.
"Wait, you never read the story that you’re named after?" Alabaster chimed in. Midnight glanced at him before nodding his head.
"You should be careful then, my friend. This Midnight Dreary character could be quite the bad guy! For all you know, he's a rapist- argh!" Alabaster stumbled sideways a few steps as Whisper's hoof left an imprint on his white fur.
"What the hell did you hit me for!" he hissed.
"Because you're teasing him, Al!"
"Oh come on, you know I'm right! That girl could have easily named him after some Equestrian serial killer. I’m doing him a favor!"
Whisper squinted angrily at him, but he simply regarded her with a smirk. A smirk that quickly vanished once he noticed that she was readying herself to take another jab at him.
"Damn it, Wisp, you better stop- ARGH! That freakin hurts!" The desert air was filled with Alabaster's shrieks as the two ponies begin to tangle with each other.
What a great way to start the day.
***
The sun's shining face beamed down upon the barren land, sending out waves of heat that made the dry desert air feel like the inside of an oven. It was a scene that Alabaster knew quite well, mainly because it was the same kind of hellish condition he faced just the day before. The only difference today was that now he nursed a few bruises on his side.
Giving his stomach a delicate rub, Alabaster gave Whisper the stink eye as they pushed on. Whether she didn't notice or simply didn't acknowledge it was up for debate. She hummed away with a giant smile across her face, seemingly oblivious to the malevolent thoughts that were rattling around in Alabaster's thick skull.
Midnight observed all of this with a reserved smile. It was pretty obvious that the two were close. He concluded that their relationship must be one that had been built upon years of struggling and surviving together. The more Midnight thought about this, the more he realized just how alone he was in this short life of his. He held on loosely to the hope that there was someone out there that might have known who he was, maybe even in the town they were headed to now, but Midnight found it very hard to be optimistic while caught within the grasp of the blistering desert heat.
Almost two hours passed before the silence between the trio would be broken again.
"How long have the two of you known each other?" Midnight asked, feeling a tad awkward as he did so. A part of him wondered if there was some kind of protocol to follow when getting to know someone. It would sure make him feel better if there was such a thing.
Alabaster tapped his chin with the tip of his hoof, digging deep within the recesses of his memory.
"Well, let me think," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "I had just been chased out of the Cross Bend trading camp, so I was headed into the Eastern Swamplands to lay low for a while—that's where I bumped into Whisper.... I'd have to say that was about three years ago. So yeah, three years now." Whisper's pleasant demeanor deflated like a dying balloon.
"It's four years, Al," she corrected with a frown. "We met each other four years ago." Alabaster looked at her as if she had just grown a third eyeball.
"Are you sure about that, Wisp? I could've sworn that-"
"Yes, I'm sure," she persisted. Whisper didn't know why, but she felt very aggravated at the fact that Alabaster would mistake something as important as that.
"Now wait a minute," Alabaster continued, much to Whisper's distress. "I need a little help here, because that means I'm missing a year."
"Do you really find it that surprising, Al? You spend all of your free time drinking. There's probably more gaps in your memory then there are potholes in Trading Route Six!"
"But a whole damn year!?"
"Four years, huh?" Alabaster and Whisper were snapped to their sense at the sound of Midnight's voice. "I guess I was thinking that the two of you had known each other a lot longer than that, the way you two seem so comfortable around each other."
Alabaster thought for a moment on that, and began to snicker.
“Well, sometimes it does feel longer than that. Don’t it, Wisp?” Whisper rolled her eyes, but quickly smiled.
“Look who’s talking,” she jested. “It gets pretty tiring when your best friend picks a fight in every barroom from here to the next country over!”
Alabaster laughed and swatted at her with his wing. Though Midnight smiled along with them, the expression in his eyes was almost envious. He tried his best to push back the jealously that welled up, for he knew it would not help him at all. However, an idea did dawn on him.
Inky, the little filly that saw fit to name him, had been borderline obsessed with fiction, especially adventure stories and epics. Midnight remembered how she went on and on about the current book she was reading (it was something along the lines of ‘Daring Do and the Forgotten Princess’). She had said that her favorite part of the book so far was when the main character, Daring Do, was sitting around a campfire with fellow travelers and telling them about all the spectacular things she had been through. She said that she liked it so much because it brought Daring Do closer to the other key characters in the story. Perhaps if he got Alabaster and Little Whisper to talk more about themselves, he wouldn’t feel so apprehensive around them. Worth a shot, he thought nervously. I at least want to feel like I can trust them.
“After traveling together for so long, I bet the two of you have quite the collection of stories, right?”
His question hung in the air for a few seconds before it received an answer. Whisper studied Alabaster, waiting to see how he would respond, while Alabaster bit his bottom lip as he thought. For second or two, Midnight thought he had done something wrong. Maybe I should have just let the idea slide.
“Stories,” the white stallion echoed, the hesitation on his face suddenly melting away into a smile. “Of course! With all the trouble that we find, you better believe it!” That helped to put Midnight to ease, but not his curiosity.
“Maybe you could tell a few then?” He asked politely. “It would probably help pass the time, and maybe even make this blasted heat more bearable.” As if to illustrate his point, a thick bead of sweat rolled right into his left eye. While Midnight cursed and rubbed at his stinging eye, Whisper stared a little harder at Alabaster.
“Yeah, Al,” she said with a hint of uncertainty. “Why not regale us a few tales of our glorious misadventures?” Alabaster glanced over and gave her a very toothy grin.
“Now don’t you worry your pretty little head, Wisp. I won’t tell anything too embarrassing.”
Midnight watched them inquisitively, not sure if there was something significant about the weird way they were looking at each other. It was almost as if they were trying to hide something. However, with a quick shake of his head, he put the thought out of his mind. If there was something that they didn’t want to talk about, then it wasn’t his place to pry. However, he would not soon forget it.
“But anyway.” Alabaster looked back to Midnight, smiling. “Yeah, I guess telling a few stories wouldn’t hurt.”
Midnight nodded and stared at Alabaster eagerly. Biting his lower lip again, the stallion mulled over the last few years of his life, trying to remember his and Whisper’s more memorable exploits. In truth, it really shouldn’t have taken him so long. However, the heat made it rather hard to concentrate. Finally, after a minute or two, Alabaster was able to extract something from his thick head.
“All right, here’s a story for you, Twilight-”
“Midnight,” Whisper sighed.
“Whatever. So, this happened about a year ago… I think it was a year… anyway, that’s not important. But me and Whisper here are heading to a little traders’ post called Hobbletin. As we’re heading there, we kind of run into a snag-”
Thus began a vicious cycle. Alabaster had forgotten how much he relished any opportunity to talk about the things he’d seen and done. That may be because the only person he’d ever shared them with is Little Whisper, and they already knew everything about each other. It also helped that Midnight was an extremely good listener. He never said a word during Alabaster’s narration, save for the occasional question, and smiled politely whenever Alabaster would break out into laughter at a particularly funny part. Then again, that may be because Alabaster never really left room for another person when he spoke.
Once he finished one story, Alabaster would automatically be reminded of another one that was “even better!” Just as Midnight had said, time went by much faster. The hours were filled with tales of massive barroom brawls, angry landlords, vindictive poachers, and one overly curious transgender mare. Even the heat was kept at bay from Midnight’s and Alabaster’s minds.
However, out of all the stories that Alabaster would tell, he wouldn’t bring up the one that Midnight wanted to hear the most: how he and Little Whisper had met. A few times, when Alabaster was catching a quick breather, the dark stallion had come close to straight out asking about it. But every time he came close, he felt his courage fail him.
Eventually, he decided to just put the thought out of his mind. It wouldn’t really matter much once they got to Appleloosa. Alabaster and Whisper would probably be going their separate ways. For now, Midnight enjoyed their company, and that was enough for him.
***
The sun began nesting upon the western horizon as the day readied itself for a close. The long shadows that it cast made Appleloosa appear sleepy, as if it too was getting ready to make bed for the night.
Even though Appleloosa was very much a farm-oriented town like Dodge Junction, the two differed from each other for many reasons, the first reason being that Appleloosa was quite a bit bigger. Acres upon acres of tall apple trees stretched out to meet the setting sun. The supple farmland helped support a rather booming community that was double the size of Dodge Junction. The second reason was that Dodge Junction didn’t have a pony like Braeburn to greet all of their newcomers.
The enthusiastic farm pony grinned widely at the trio who had just been wandering into Appleloosa’s outskirts from the barren desert out beyond.
“Well howdy there, partners!” Braeburn beamed. “My name’s Braeburn, and welcome to Appleloosa-”
“Yeah, Braeburn,” Alabaster croaked, sweat gleaming down his matted fur. “Shut the hell up and get out of our way, please.” The words struck like a punch to the face, turning Braeburn’s smile completely upside down as the trio pushed past him.
“That wasn’t very nice, Al,” Little Whisper murmured, giving a cautious glance back to the shell shocked cow-pony. He was just staring after them, mouth agape.
“I did say please, didn’t I?” Alabaster was too tired and too irritated to add his usual sarcasm. He glanced over to his left, and saw Midnight staring blankly at his hooves as he walked. The dark stallion made a heavy wheezing sound that must have been his pathetic way of breathing.
“Yo, Midnight.” the sound of Alabaster’s voice stirred Midnight from his groggy stupor. “You gonna be okay there?”
“I’m going to be sick,” Midnight responded meekly, his gaze never lifting. Little Whisper, who seemed completely unfazed by the hell they had just left, peered over at her new friend.
“You think he’ll be fine?” she asked Alabaster with worried, motherly eyes. Alabaster answered her question with one of his own.
“Wisp, we were born in the Dragon Lands, right? The very birthplace of fire itself?” She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Well, the whole ‘birth of fire’ thing is technically a matter of opinion.”
“Damn it, Wisp, you know what I mean!”
“Yes,” she said flatly, “we were born in the Dragon Lands. Why are you asking?” Alabaster sighed.
“I’m just wondering how this place can be so freaking miserable!” Whisper tapped her chin and thought for a moment.
“Well, this place is dry. Like, REALLY dry. At least it rains occasionally in the Dragon Lands. I remember some of the sailors saying that Southern Equestria is prone to droughts and heatwaves.”
Alabaster shook his head and tried to let the topic slide. What really mattered now were the tall wooden buildings that laid only yards ahead. Even the shadows that were jutted out looked cool and inviting.
First order of business, he thought, some hot food to stuff my face with. His stomach growled in noisy agreement. He couldn’t help but smile. I know, buddy, I feel the same way.
It had been a long while since he ate a decent meal, but it had been even longer since he last took a bath. After fairing through a sea voyage and two desert treks, his once ivory coat was now masked by a light-brown layer of dirt, sweat, and other kinds of grime. It even obscured his cutie mark, making it appear more like a smudge on his rump. Thus, a bath would be his next target once his belly was full.
Much to Alabaster and Little Whisper’s relief, the streets of Appleloosa seemed fairly empty. The few signs of life, aside from them, were the occasional farm ponies that were either making their way home or going to the bar. A pair of foals came bounding by the party with wooden swords in their mouths, each shouting vows of destruction upon the other. Little Whisper watched them, almost longingly, until a tired-looking mare poked her head out of a nearby window and called the two foals in for dinner. Whisper seemed to deflate a bit after that.
Alabaster, however, had never even noticed the children. A few blocks ahead sat a weathered building with wide swinging doors. Just above the entrance was the silhouette of giant mug. Alabaster was instantly enthralled. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t take long for Whisper to follow his gaze. Not that he was being subtle about it.
“I don’t think so,” Whisper said sharply. “Not after what happened at the last town.” Alabaster went sheepish, like a child who had just been caught with his hoof in the cookie jar. Little Whisper was probably the only pony alive who could make him act in such a manner.
“Oh come on,” he laughed, almost nervously, “drinking wasn’t what got us in trouble last time.”
“No,” she agreed, “but you do attract a lot of attention to yourself whenever you drink, and we can’t really afford any attention right now, Al.” Reluctantly, he nodded. He knew she was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to keep walking once the bar was finally at their side.
“Besides,” Whisper continued, “you don’t need booze right now. You need substance!” Alabaster grumbled something too low for her to hear, but she didn’t pay any mind to it.
After a few minutes of walking, the trio eventually managed to find the town inn. It had been a while since Alabaster had been so glad to see such a rickety old building. The Happy Apple Inn was a longstanding part of Appleloosa, and one could tell from a single glance. However, despite how gruff and beaten the inn appeared, it had been built to last. And it did just that.
Alabaster was just making his way up the front steps to the inn when a voice suddenly called out to him.
“Whoa there, Sunny! Let me have a word with ya’ll before ya go in!” If it isn’t one thing, it’s another.
With an exasperated sigh, Alabaster turned alongside his companions. Behind them stood a stout stallion who, at first glance, appeared to be like every other cow-pony they had encountered. Alabaster regarded the stallion’s stereotypical handlebar mustache, oversized hat, and brown vest with a calculative flicker of his eyes. Then that’s when he noticed it, the glint of a tin star pinned to the stallion’s vest.
Oh, damn it all…
“What can we do for you, Sheriff?” Whisper asked with a politeness that Alabaster wouldn’t have been able to find. The law-pony looked her up and down, almost skeptically.
“Just want ya’ll to take a walk with me over to the jailhouse for a bit, so I can talk to ya’ll in private.” Digging his teeth into the tip of his tongue, Alabaster struggled to keep his mouth shut.
“I don’t understand, is something wrong?” The sheriff shook his head.
“No, nothing like that, little missy. Just want to properly greet Appleloosa’s newest visitors is all. Make sure ya get a good first impression.”
Right… and a jailhouse is the perfect place to make first impressions.
Whisper looked at Alabaster, her green eyes obviously pleading that he not do something stupid. It seemed that there was nothing to be done about it then. The thought of spending another day trudging through the scorching desert seemed a lot worse than humoring an authority figure.
But oh, how authority figures make me feel chafed, Alabaster thought with a glower.
***
The sheriff's office at the back of the jailhouse was hot, stuffy, and reeked of cigar smoke. Midnight Dreary felt as if he would choke on the air because it was so thick. It was a wonder how anyone could spend more than a few seconds in such a place, let alone work here. Yet the sheriff sat comfortably behind his desk as if he was right at home. A fat cigar hung between his lips, billowing out clouds of smoke that seemed to frame his chiseled face.
The sheriff surveyed the travelers each in turn, his gaze lingering the longest on Midnight’s blank flank. It was all Midnight could do not to shift under that steely gaze of his. He was thankful when the sheriff’s attention eventually moved over to Alabaster.
“Ya’ll can relax now. I said there wasn’t any trouble.” Though he spoke reassuringly, it did nothing to put anyone’s worries at ease. Alabaster was forcing back a scowl and Little Whisper’s smile was paper thin.
“Then do you mind telling us why we’re here?” Alabaster asking hotly, his eyes level with the sheriff’s. The sheriff exhaled, letting a puff of smoke roll out.
“Ya’ll the ones who drifted through Dodge Junction yesterday, aren’t cha? Them outlanders?” The question brought silence. Whisper’s smile fell and she felt butterflies tickle her stomach. Midnight began to shrink back, as if he was fearful that the sheriff’s words had poisoned the air. The only one undeterred was Alabaster.
“And why do you ask that, Sheriff?” The sheriff stared at him for moment before answered.
“Because yesterday, I got a message from the sheriff over there, tellin’ me to watch for some drifters that rolled in from the East. He said that they were up to no good, so he sent them on their way. Guess he thought I’d like to know in case they decided to come this way.” He paused to tap the cigar over a cracked ashtray.
“He also gave a pretty good description of them. Pretty good indeed.”
Alabaster ground his teeth in frustration, trying his best to keep composed. It seemed to him that they’d never be able to get ahead. They hadn’t even been in Appleloosa for twenty minutes before the law had come looking for them. How was someone supposed to start over when things like this kept happening?
“So,” Alabaster said venomously, no longer holding onto the hope of fooling the lawpony. “Where does that leave us then?” Much to his annoyance, the sheriff took his sweet time puffing on his cigar before he responded.
“It don’t really leave us anywhere. I honestly got no problem with yer kind passing through.” The look of bewilderment on the trio’s faces gave the sheriff no small amount of pleasure.
“W-wait a second,” Whisper stuttered. “Then why bring us to a jailhouse? We thought we were in trouble!” The expression of confusion was gone from Alabaster’s face, and instead it was replaced with anger.
“Yeah, I’m wondering the same damn thing.”
“Well,”—The sheriff began to smile.—“Part of it is because I can be a bit of a jerk at times. If ya couldn’t tell from the empty cells outside, Appleloosa is on the lackin’ side of criminals. Very rarely do I get the opportunity to hassle folks. It’s all in fun though, really.”
“And the other part?” The smile vanished as quickly as it came.
“Because had I to warn ya’ll, before ya went and did something foolish. Such as makin’ it known that yer not from… around.”
“About that,” Alabaster said hotly. “What the hell does everyone around here have against outlanders, anyway? When we started saving up to come over here, we were under the impression that Equestria was welcome to anyone!” The sheriff gave him a look that was almost empathetic.
“Ya’ll thought wrong, boy. Ever since that darn Tirek character tore Equestria a new one a few months ago, yer kind hasn’t been sittin’ well with anypony here in Equestria.”
“But why?” Alabaster didn’t like where this was going. “None of that crap had anything to do we us!”
“I’m afraid it does,” he sighed. “Has to do with him bein’ one too; an outlander that darn near destroyed the kingdom. It’s because of him that there’s a blight on this country, like a spot of dying grass in a pasture. You don’t know it, but there were many ponies that lost lives and livelihoods when that bastard tore through here…”
He stopped for a moment to take a long drag from his cigar, the cherry glowing just a bit brighter. An overcast fell over his eyes, making them as dark and cloudy as the smoke that escaped his lips. Then, with an exhale that was more of a sigh, he gave a short narration of the horror that befall Equestria during Tirek’s short rule.
It took him only a few minutes to tell the story; although, almost all of it were bits and pieces that he had heard from others who had been passing through Appleloosa from the North. Horrible things of trains derailing when their conductors collapsed, taxis crashing everywhere in the busy cities, house fires that no one was able to extinguish in time, and other grisly accidents that left many ponies maimed or worse.
Once the sheriff finished, he snuffed the cigar out in the ashtray, almost abrasively. Emotions were rising in the aging stallion, and he was trying hard not to let it show. It wouldn’t do to have these strangers see him in such a manner. Whisper, who was now even more lost for words, saw this, but didn’t give any rise that she had.
“Look,” Alabaster started slowly, trying to sound as courteous as possible, “I’m sorry all that crap happened. Really, I am. It sounds downright disgusting. But I don’t see why that has anything to do with us. I mean, it isn’t like we’re going around sucking people off and trying to score some soul juice!” Whisper’s cheeks went cherry red.
“That ain’t the point, boy! Because of him, almost everypony in Equestria thinks ya’ll outlanders are monster bent on destruction! And honestly… I don’t rightly blame ‘em. You outlanders are of a rare quantity. And I do mean [rare]. Heck, even the sailors and traders from out beyond don’t stay longer than they have to. Not anymore.” The sheriff began to lean forward, his brow creasing as he squinted at them.
“But you fellas—the ones lookin’ to settle here—ya’ll bring something that nopony in Equestria is ready for yet. And that’s uncertainty. Do ya’ll see what I’m getting at?” The trio shared a quick glance amongst themselves, but didn’t respond.
“Nopony in Equestria knows much about the lands that lay out beyond, or about the ponies who live there, except that they are dangerous. And why should they? We’ve been livin’ just fine without givin’ too much thought to what’s goin’ on out in the world. Well, that is… until recently…”
His words trailed off and a somber expression came over his face. Slowly, the sheriff sank back into his chair without another word. The room fell silent after that, and wasn’t lifted until after Whisper managed to find her voice.
“Why would you tell us all of this? Not that we aren’t grateful!” she added quickly. “It just seems that from what you’ve told us, no one else would do such a kind thing…”
“You’re right,” he answered wistfully. “They wouldn’t… tell me, how old are ya’ll? Ya seem pretty young. Not much more than yer mid-twenties, I’m guessin’.” As taken aback by the sudden question as they were, eventually Alabaster and Little Whisper nodded slowly. The question rolled past Midnight without any response, but if the sheriff noticed he didn’t show it.
“Yeah,” Alabaster said carefully, “I’m twenty-three and she’s twenty-two.”
“I thought as much.” the sheriff shifted in his seat as he spoke. “Ya’ll are about the same age as my daughter, Celestia bless her. That darn girl always had such a knack for healin’. Even studied up there at the School when she was a foal. It was always her dream to go out and help ponies in need…” That went over their heads completely, but none of them dared to interrupt him. The sheriff’s eyes went sorrowful once more, but now Whisper was not the only one to notice it.
“And right now, she’s more than likely stuffed under the deck of some blasted trading ship, probably not unlike the one ya’ll came over here on, off to the Dragon Lands… Darn girl thinks she can save the world.” Alabaster and Whisper’s eyes grew wide as they made the connection.
“S-she’s a Scholar going to help the tribes, isn’t she?” Whisper asked, already knowing the answer. “We noticed a number them, the last few months they were there. She’s very brave, sir, if you don’t mind me saying.” Alabaster nodded his head, slowly.
When dragon clans battled each other, nothing was safe. But right now, the dragon clans weren’t just fighting. They were at war. This was the main reason Whisper and Alabaster had tried so hard to leave the country. Every night the horizon would be set ablaze with dragon fire as the horrid beasts clashed in the distance, lighting up the night sky as if it were day. The wave of flames had already consumed most of the western lands, sending caravans and pony tribes alike fleeing for their lives. Sadly, few were fast enough to outrun the wrath of warring dragons.
“She is.” The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “But as to yer question… I guess I’d like to think that there’s somepony out there who’ll look out for her, just as I’m lookin’ out for ya’ll now. Call it karma, I guess-”
“You don’t have to explain,” Whispered assured him, this time smiling earnestly. “And thank you, really.”
“Don’t be thankin’ me, missy. Ya’ll still might have a hard time yet, here in Appleloosa.” Alabaster squinted warily.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I know ya’ll came to Appleloosa lookin’ for work. Only problem with that, there is none. If ya’ll had been here a few months ago or so, ya might have had a chance of workin’ at the apple farm. But right now the farm is about up to its ears with workers.”
“You’re absolutely sure?” Helplessness was a feeling that Alabaster was rarely familiar with, but at that moment, he knew it well. He knew that their savings could only take them so far, especially if they were staying in inns without bringing in any income.
“I ain’t lyin’, sunny.” Alabaster flinched at the name. “I’ve known everypony in this town since I was a little foal. I could even name them all if I had to, right down to their foals! And let me tell ya, there ain’t nopony lookin’ for an extra hoof right now. Nopony. With the new taxes those damn nobles have laid out, yer gonna be hard pressed to find anypony willin’ to spend more bits than they have to.”
Damn it! It can never be simple, can it? As if the sheriff had read his thoughts, he gave the pegasus a sympathetic smile.
“But don’t worry, ya’ll wouldn’t want to work down here anyway. Smalltown folks ask a lot of questions when somepony lingers for too long, questions ya’ll would do well to steer clear from. Besides, there’s a place up a little north from here that I know will more than likely have somethin’ for ya, if yer willin to do some hard work.”