"GET OUT OF HERE!" A large stallion kicked an object out the back door of a restaurant, titled Casa Bom Vento. "GO BUCK SOMEWHERE ELSE, YA FILTHY SNATCHMUZZLE!"
This object, so badly beaten, so weathered and undefinable, with the smallest patches of clothing hanging on it, was a colt.
He had no friends or family. His life, as he knew it, was to steal food and get beat out of wherever he stole his food from. It hurt him, greatly, and if anypony was kind enough, they would delightfully serve a second cuisine of kicking and bucking. He found the pain to be worth its weight to bear, lest he die of starvation on a dead street. His dream, sad as it was, was to die at that palace everypony talked about. It started with a B, Burkingham, probably.
There was a problem, however. He didn't even know the name of the street he was on.
His life, bent on scraping whatever was left on the sides of the tin can called life, was as good as gone. He overheard some ponies' conversations. Life is a gift, they say. Well he'd like to return it to the giver.
His coat was scratched, and he lacked a mane. Two days ago, he'd encountered a demonic waiter who happened to have a devil of a barber for a friend. He tried to escape the demon's clutches with his loot—two fingers' worth of corn and a few strands of hay.
He managed an escape from the waiter, only to find another smiling face of demise.
The devil took him into an alleyway, scorning him, mocking him with names such as "scumbag" and "immoral child". And as if the pain of being pulled by the mane and being bucked around multiple times wasn't enough, the demon took out a black box.
This box was skinny, and could easily be held with one hoof. It made a buzzing sound, like a swarm of locusts searching for lush, new pastures to desecrate and devour.
The white demon forcefully pulled his mane and drove his black box through it. He was right, there was a horde of angry locusts inside the box. And they had just made a meal of his blonde mane. The demon laughed maniacally at his work, and hit the colt one more time with his dreaded den of locusts.
He wanted to scream for help, but he had nothing left of his voice. He couldn't even let out so much as a whimper. It hurt his neck. His throat was dry enough to contend with the deserts of Saddle Arabia for the dryest places in existence. At least Saddle Arabia had oases.
He walked out of the alleyway, head dropped low in embarrassment. His muzzle touched the ground, and he covered his ears as good as he could to block out the laughter that filled the streets. Ponies around pointed their hooves at him. " The bugger has no mane! Now he's a real bastard!" They mocked. "You'd very much kill yourself, but having your blood on anything would insult it, even if it was a mound of droppings!"
He was alone in a city of demons.
All he knew was envy. He envied the ponies around him for having clean coats. He envied the ponies around him for being able to eat nicely. He envied the ponies around him for having clothes to wear. And, a fresh reason from two days ago, he envied them because they had manes.
And with this envy, he walked. Until tonight, he tread. Until he gets pulled by another demon, he will walk.
He had no name, but many a gang of little imps his size—colts he reckoned were around his age who were better off—had called him "Tumbleweed". He had no idea what this word meant, but by the word 'weed', he assumed it was another way to call him worthless. Yes, he found it fitting of himself. The next time he would be able to speak, he'd call himself " Tumbleweed". Considering he won't die of thirst before he gets the chance.
And on this particular road, with the thunderbolt and lightning, Tumbleweed lay.
He tried to get up, but his legs were weak and skinny. His belly was nonexistent, and his muscles seemed to be in league. He tried his best, but it was too difficult. The pain helped wonders in keeping him lying on the ground. "Maybe later," he decided. "When the pain goes away."
He looked straight ahead, seeing a white figure draped in some brown clothing. He didn't care about this figure, assuming it was another spawn of Tartarus who wanted to kick him around for sport.
Not wanting to feel anymore pain, he closed his eyes, let the cold rain sting his coat, and drifted into a rough, but much welcomed sleep.
Sleep. This was his only escape. An escape from the harsh reality that awaited him at the end of the dream tunnel. He would take every chance to be happy, even if it were for only a short time. In his slumber, he'd dream that he had his coat back. In his dreams, he wore a butterscotch coat and had his blonde mane back with him. He would walk around a field of hay, corn, and flowers. He loved corn, and in his dreams, he would eat an entire granary's worth of corn. He wished badly for the dreams to come true, praying every day to Celestia that he would eventually be able to eat as much corn as he desired.
The prayers were left unanswered, unless getting beat up after eating so much as a seed of corn was his answer.
This particular dream was no different—he ran through fields of corn, chomping away in the same fashion the locusts did to his hair. Only this time, he had his name and the locusts were out of his mind. Nothing would ruin his trip to dreamland, not even Celestia herself.
Only this time, the dream was a little bit different. He ran towards a house, uncontrollably. This house was small, and had only a bed and a light. In his dream, he lay on the bed and yawned heartily, as if he was full from eating massive amounts of corn he literally could only ever dream of eating.
Sleep in the land of fantasy meant wake in the land of reality, and he opened his eyes and prepared himself to face reality.
But reality wasn't as it always was anymore, not for now at least.
He felt under him the same comfort of the bed from his dreams. He looked under, and saw a towel under what he assumed was a bed. Was he still dreaming? He bit himself to make sure, yet nothing about his surroundings changed. "This must be some kind of trickery," he thought. "Where in the bloody blazes am I?"
He looked around, figures of ponies in elaborate dresses and suits. He covered his ears, expecting another round of mockery and insults to be thrown at him, yet all he heard was a high-pitched voice. It sounded worried–a tone he hadn't heard in at least ten years. He cringed hard, and opened one ear, expecting many more voices to be heard. The defaming would begin, but he wanted to make sure it would.
However, nothing but the same, single voice was heard.
"You poor little thing! Oh I swear on Celestia, nopony deserves such rash and irrational treatment against them!" The voice exclaimed. Tumbleweed looked up, and saw a pearl-white mare with an elaborately-styled indigo mane. "Is this some kind of joke?" He questioned life. "I bet she's just dying to give me the insult of the century."
To his surprise, he was taken by her from the 'bed', slung over her back and brought to a special room.
This room had many strange objects. There was what looked like a seat, but it had a hole at the middle, and some water. He saw something shaped simililarly, but elevated and under it was a tube-like thing that seemed to go through the wall. On top was a silver object, curved and long, like a scorpion's tail. What was at the end of it, however, was no sharp point, but a muzzle of sorts with multiple holes. At its base was something that looked like a miniature version of those levers in the wells he'd seen during one of his travels.
He was set down on a large, white basket-like thing. He saw it had a hole similar to that of the seat, but had a muzzle similar to that of the Scorpion's Tail covering it. Much flatter and with about as many holes.
The white mare seemed to summon a large snake, as a pointy thing on her head glowed blue, with a silver snake glowing the same hue. Tumbleweed felt scared, he had no idea what this mad mare was up to. She instructed the snake to lean towards him, but upon closer inspection, this snake's face had many holes instead of two yellow eyes and a mouth large enough to swallow him whole. Nonetheless, he braced for the worst as the mare turned a knob similar to that on the base of the Scorpion's Tail.
What came out of the silver snake, however, was no venom. No, it was better. What came out was warm water. Warm, relaxing water. He opened his mouth to drink some of it, his throat cleared of its pain. For the first time in ages, he flexed his vocal chords and said "aaaaah" while drinking from the water.
This earned a chuckle from the mare. "My, my. You're just the most adorable little thing, aren't you?" She then proceeded to take what looked like half a stallion's teeth. Her pointed thing glowed, the half-set of teeth glowed in synchronization. Bringing it nearer to him, Tumbleweed backed away, Not knowing what it would do to him.
"Don't worry, darling. It's just a brush. It'll keep you nice and clean. Don't be shy," the mare smiled. Upon closer inspection, the object was significantly wider than a single row of teeth, and what was meant to be teeth were strands of tough hair. He almost imagined them to be hay, and opened his mouth to take a bite.
"Oh, goodness no!" The mare yelped, pulling the hairns away from him. "This isn't meant for eating, darling. Now, give me one hoof," she smiled and offered her hoof out to him. He was shocked by this gesture; normally when a pony asked him to give them something, they would just yank whatever it was away from him.
Then again, she was different from the other ponies. She had been more gentle than he would ever imagine anyone to be. She had called him adorable, she told him he didn't deserve his treatment, and she was worried for him.
The difference was that she cared for Tumbleweed.
Carefully, he landed his hoof on hers, no longer able to anticipate what would happen next.
The mare brought the bundle of hairs on his skin, making contact with his badly damaged and unconditioned fur. Slowly, she scraped his coat with the bundle, making sure to get every area of his forearm scrubbed. The more she scrubbed, the more dirt fell off. And as more dirt tell off, his original butterscotch coat slowly regained its glory.
Tumbleweed's mouth fell agape at this, his heart brimmed with joy after being able to see his coat. No longer was he envious, his mane no longer mattered. He was the happiest colt in the world, and it was all thanks to a kind mare. What was she doing to him, exactly? He didn't know. Neither did her care, as long as she continued on. His open mouth formed an open smile, and he made sure the mare saw it.
"Oh, such a darling!" She adored. "Now, just let me get the rest of your body cleaned up."
Cleaned up? Cleaned up! Tumbleweed was getting cleaned up! Of course, that was it! He stayed dirty for so long, he forgot cleaning up was a thing. But now, without question, this kind Samaretan was doing it for him. "Thank you, Celestia!" He cheered in his mind. Voluntarily, he gave her his other hoof. The mare chuckled at his cuteness, and proceeded to scrub the rest of his body.
The old, worn and beaten cocoon was shed. It was high time for the butterfly to emerge.
The mare scrubbed his right chest, and Tumbleweed felt a small pain. He winced slightly, the mare brought the bundle back. "Oh dear, I'm sorry. Does it hurt over here?" She inspected the chest. "Oh, good heavens! This scar does not need to be here! You poor little thing!" She brought him to her chest and hugged him tightly. She was warm and fuzzy, an entirely new feeling for him. He brought his nuzzle to her chest and snuggled up on her.
Breaking the show of affection, she dropped the scrub and placed some liquid on her smooth hoof. She rubbed it to make if foam, and prepared the now-butterscotch colt. "Now, dear. This might hurt a bit, but it only means the wound is healing." With that, Tumbleweed trusted her, and braced for the pain.
It felt better than the bundle of hard hairs she used earlier.
Her smooth hoof sliding across the wound with ease. As she warned, the process stung him a bit. This pain lasted for a short while, however, and she was done with cleaning the wound. Stinging never felt that good in his entire life.
"There. It should be all better once you've dried up." She assured him. "Now, kindly allow me to scrub the rest of your body, would you dear?" She asked with a smile.
A smile of genuine happiness was flashed back at her, and Tumbleweed relaxed. The mare then made sure every part was rid of dirt, in between his legs and body, his neck, and his muzzle. After she was done scrubbing his hind legs, she summoned the silver snake again, and turned the knob that made the snake spit a steady, comforting stream of warm water on him.
He let the water run through his body, washing away the foam and soap. He revealed himself to be a butterscotch Earth Pony with small stubs of blonde mane, irregularly cut by that demon and his locusts from two days ago.
The mare noticed this, and shrieked in horror. "OH, WHAT HORRIBLE BEING WOULD EVER THINK OF TAKING AWAY ANYPONY'S MANE!?" Tumbleweed gave her a saddened look, remembering the ordeal with the waiter and his demon friend.
"My my, we'll most definitely have to fix THIS up!" The mare announced as she went to one of a few nearby miniature doors and picked up a large sheet of thick, white cloth. She proceeded to wipe him with it, polish him and dry him. Once she was done, he shook his whole body vigorously off of water, the mare giving a small "Ooh!" and took cover behind the towel.
Tumbleweed looked at her with an innocent smile. The mare gave a hearty laugh, and adored her new little companion. For the first time in a good decade, since he was a small filly, he felt generosity. He never asked for it, never prayed about it to Celestia, but she knew he needed it. And, by her infinite and boundless will, she gave him the generosity he so badly needed through this particular white mare.
His stomach suddenly grumbled, and the mare's ears perked up.
"Oh, how could I have forgotten! Follow me dear, we'll get you something to eat." She instructed him. Tumbleweed followed in suit. She led him to a small table with two seats. "Hold on here for a while, I'll whip up something warm." Tumbleweed simply nodded.
While waiting for the mare to give him food, he thought about his current situation. Just earlier, he was getting kicked out of a restaurant for attempting to steal food, although ultimately failing to the waiter. A nap later, he meets a mare, she cleans him up, and was making food at the moment!
Food! Tumbleweed hasn't eaten properly in months! He was able to eat what he considered was proper a few months back, but what kind of proper is half a bundle of hay and a half-eaten apple? This mare was going to give him proper food! And a good serving, too.
After a few more minutes of pondering, she comes back to the table. Using her pointy thing, she generated a blue aura around a levitating soup bowl. The bowl slowly made its way onto the tabletop. Once its contents were in sight, he put on his biggest smile in the decade—it was corn soup!
"Do you like it, darling?" The butterscotch colt gave her a nod. She sat on the other seat and offered him the whole bowl. "Well, go on, dear. It's all yours" she offered.
Tumbleweed happily dug in, his clean muzzle getting soaked in corn soup. The mare smiled gleefully at this sight, happy that she was able to give this colt something to fill his stomach with. She finally tried her hand at a conversation with this youth.
"Oh, I haven't introduced myself." She began. "I'm Rarity, darling. And you are?"
Tumbleweed tried to speak up. Clearing his throat, he spoke up. "People here call me Tumbleweed..." He would remember her name, Rarity, forever from today onwards.
Rarity gave a gasp. "Oh, that's hardly an appropriate name for you!"
Tumbleweed signed. "It is what it is, ma'am... Uh, Rarity."
"Please, skip the formalities." Rarity said in a friendly tone. "Hmm... What say you that we leave this place?"
Unbelievable. She had only just met him and now they were going to leave? No child ever came back from strangers taking them along their trip.
He was all in.
He considered his life up to this point, he had nothing to lose. If he left whatever town this was, he'd be leaving behind countless days of horror. He'd be able to start anew, wherever he went so long as it was far away from this Celestia-forsaken place. With this in mind, he gave her a nod of approval.
"Excellent!" Was her response. "From now on, you shall be called," she thought for a moment. "Goldheart!" She booped his nose.
Goldheart. He couldn't believe it, no more carrying a name which meant a waste of space! No more worthlessness, no more being kicked around, or having to steal food from whatever restaurants he found! He was free, and normal! His hopes restored! He could eat all the corn he wanted!
Little did he know, a heart of gold appeared on his flank at that very moment.
"Really?" He asked in excitement, wanting to confirm what he had just heard. "You really mean it?"
Rarity smiled and gave a nod. "Mhm. And I think you'll find that where we're going is going to treat you a tad better."
For the first time ever, adrenaline rushed to Tumbleweed's, now Goldheart's legs and he jumped for joy. "Yahoo!" He shouted. "Yippee!" He Jested. Rarity couldn't help but feel happy for him.
"Well, we will leave soon. My business here is done, anyways. I'm due a few days now for a carriage ride." She explained to Goldheart. "The next ride will be in two hours, so you best eat up, darling. You don't want to arrive on an empty stomach now, would you?"
Goldheart happily agreed, and gobbled down the rest of the corn soup. While he happily feasted, Rarity left the seat and walked towards a window to gaze at the star formations Luna created. Goldheart joined her as soon as he finished the soup. He set his eyes upon a spectacular view. Never in his life had he imagined the night to be this beautiful.
"It really is a delightful feeling to be generous." Rarity muttered as she watched the stars with Ponyville's newest member.