Outskirts of Appleloosa
Braeburn trotted briskly, his body hitched to the small wagon. Lyra sat on the seat directly behind him. Minuette, Lemon Hearts, and Twinkleshine gathered in the back.
"Oooh!" Minuette stood up, pointing excitedly towards the desert horizon. "Look! Butts! Check it out, Twinky! Butts! Butts!"
"Uhm..." Twinkleshine smiled delicately. "I think they're pronounced buttes."
"Yeah! That's what I said!" Minuette blinked. "Butts!"
"Minuette, sit down, please," Lemon Hearts insisted. With a flick of magic, she unfolded a parasol and levitated it over herself and the other two mares. "The stone formations aren't going anywhere. You can watch them from the compound."
"Oooooh... Lemon Hearts..." Twinkleshine cooed, relaxing next to her. "Thank you for the shade."
"Sorry I couldn't get a wagon with a covered top, y'all!" Braeburn chirped, carrying the wagon up over the crest of an arid hill. He sweated lightly, smiling into the sunlight. "We Appleloosa folk save the canvas material for makin' clothes and weavin' apple baskets. The way we figure it—gettin' a load of sun is a mite bit unavoidable this far out into the wilderness. Heh-Heh!" He rounded a patch of brambles and shrubbery. "The way I see it, the more ponies we get here on vacation, the greater chance I'll have to convince the City Council to make some decent desert taxis! Can you imagine that?! Tours of the excitin' frontier!"
"Yes!" Minuette cheered, squirming beside Twinkleshine and Lemon Hearts. "More ponies deserve to get a load of the butts!"
"Minnie..." Twinkleshine face-hoofed. "For the love of Celestia..."
"Heehee!"
Lemon Hearts sighed through a soft smile. "Lyra?" She craned her neck, twirling the parasol. "Would you like to join us here in the back? There's still room for another under this umbrella."
"... ... ..." Lyra ellipsaid.
Lemon Hearts raised an eyebrow. "Lyra...?"
"Hmmm?" Lyra peered back, eyes thin and dull. "What?"
"You okay?" Lemon Hearts blinked. "We don't want you suffering sunstroke now."
"Eh... I'm fine." Lyra pointed at her bulging saddlebag. "Lots of apple juice to keep hydrated."
"Just dun drink it all at once!" Braeburn chirped, chuckling. "You dun wanna suffer from Maretazuma—"
"Yeah, I'll be fine, thanks," Lyra grunted. She looked over her shoulder to catch a glare from Lemon Hearts. "I mean it. I'm cool."
"Reckon she means it, y'all!" Braeburn said through a breathy grin. "I know the voice of a hearty mare when I hear it!"
"Yeah, well..." Lemon Hearts exhaled, staring back at the hazy strip of Appleloosa against the nearby horizon. "...that's a heart that deserves to have its string re-tuned."
Lyra rolled her eyes when the other mare wasn't looking.
"You two sisters or somethin'?" Braeburn whispered back in mid-trot. "Y'all seem to squabble somethin' fierce."
"Don't mind her," Lyra leaned forward, murmuring back. "Like the classic Radiohay song, she wakes up each morning sucking herself."
"Hahah!" Braeburn grinned, then sighed. "I dun get it, but it's funny all the same!"
"Hmmmm..." Lyra smiled faintly at the arid plateaus. "Wish there were more ponies back home that were just as easily amused as you."
"It's a staple of Appleloosan life to find joy in everythang! Or else, that would make all the hard work unbearable!"
"Sure. I'll buy that." Lyra gulped, feeling a cold shudder return to her figure. "Say... uhm... Baywatch?"
"Braeburn."
"Is... everything in Appleloosa truly sunshine and rainbows?"
"I... uh... I dun get it." He tipped his hat and glanced back at her. "How do you mean, exactly?"
"Does this town have any trouble?"
"Trouble?"
"Y'know... with sandstorms... snakes..." Lyra gulped dryly. "Desert gangs beating the crud out of other ponies in a dark alley over bits."
"Shoot, I sure hope not!" Braeburn cleared his throat. "I mean... bein' this far away from Central Equestria means that we do occasionally attract a few lawless ruffians, thinkin' they can prey on innocent settler ponies. But usually Sheriff Silver Star is quick to dig the spurs in and treat them varmints right."
"Is he good at his job?"
"Huh?"
"I-I mean... don't you think that... maybe... just maybe... some criminal jerks might slip through the cracks?"
"Well..." Braeburn drew the wagon down a shallow embankment. "...anythang's possible, I suppose. But—from what I seen—we Appleloosan ponies are pretty quick to look out for our fellow equine. If there's some funny business that the Sheriff misses, the rest of us could easily pick up the slack."
"You... uh... sure about that?"
Braeburn glanced back again. "Somethin' yer needin' to tell me, Miss Heartstrings? 'Cuz if there's somethin' you know that I dun—"
"Er... n-no! I mean... eheh..." Lyra rubbed the back of her neck. "I'm just here to relax on a therapeutic vacation. No... uh... no need to freak out over stuff that isn't even my business..."
"Ain't a matter of business or no business." Braeburn smirked. "Bein' concerned for other ponies is in our blood. So if you see anythang fishy, it's a-okay to tell me or another Appleloosa guide. That's what we do, after all—we look after each other."
"I... can't imagine anything ever being that simple."
"Pffft... sure it is!" Braeburn grinned into the desert haze. "The way I see it—everypony's born a hero. You included!"
Lyra's ears drooped.
"Ya know what I mean?"
? ? ? ? ? ?
The little filly sobbed.
She pulled and she tugged at the stallion's weighted flesh.
The smoke descended.
The flames drew closer.
His body wouldn't budge—and then the ceiling collapsed as she shrieked.
Outskirts of Appleloosa
"I... uhm..." Lyra brought a shaky hoof to her mane and brushed her bangs back. "I'm not hero material."
"Sure you are!"
"No." Lyra's nostrils flared. "I'm friggin' not."
Braeburn blinked, stumbling briefly in mid-step. "A thousand pardons, ma'am. I didn't mean to bother you none. But you seem like a stand-up gal to me."
"Sorry... just..." Lyra took a deep breath, closing her eyes. "...this vacation. I guess I'm... h-here for a legit reason." She swallowed a lump down her throat. "Got some nerves I gotta smoothe out. Maybe someday... I won't be quite so snippy about it."
"Well, now's yer chance!" Braeburn slowed enough to wave a triumphant hoof forward. "Ta-daaa! Yer relaxation retreat awaits!"
Lyra opened her eyes.
Before them lay a small homestead beside a well and a smattering of apple trees. Errant patches of truly-green grass covered the soil of what once must have been a bustling ranch. Three buildings and a barn cast cool shade over a dirt field.
"Well... it sure looks... uh... humble," Lyra remarked.
"It's got all the amenities of a modern day resort! Or at least I've been told... eheh!"
"Where's... uh..." Lyra squinted at the field before the houses. "Where's our therapist?"
"She should be out and about at this time of the day." Braeburn peered across the foreground—then brightened. "Ah! There she is now!"
"Where?" Lyra blinked. "Beside the rickety green scarecrow with red dreadlocks?
"Nah... she is the scarecrow!"
"Huh?" Lyra did a double-take, her vision zeroing in on a mare's figure, standing on one leg and contorting ridiculously. As they drew closer, the air filled with a monotonous chanting sound, vibrating Lyra's entire skull. "Oh what the buck..."