Duskfall

by Celestial Swordsman

Ponyville

Chapter 8

Dusk sat a while looking far into the southeastern sky. Her immediate surroundings suddenly came into focus and jammed a new thought into her mind. “Oh no, not again,” she gulped. She was alone.

The quaint country town had long ago been a model town. Now it had fallen into some disrepair. It was hard living on the border between hostile superpowers. Some of the structures were bright and fresh, contrasting sharply with broken and scorched ruins beside them. Ponyville had felt the last war. The new buildings represented not expansion but reconstruction.

Dusk plodded reluctantly up Main Street, which was mostly empty, although some ponies could be seen. The town hall caught her interest, and she assumed a steady trot toward it. Surely someone there would be willing to answer a few questions. The hall stood, resolute like a worn standard, commanding pride for the damage received in faithful service. Inside there was the commotion of an urgent meeting. Perhaps she could just listen and find out what she needed to know. She could figure things out; she hadn’t come here by accident, after all. She sat down by the door, which was held open a crack by a doorstop. She heard one voice talking above concerned murmurs:

“—So the town itself should not be in danger this time. We should have some faith that our homes will stand, and we will have a future when this is all past. The principal danger is really brigands, deserters or other robbers. Lock your doors and hide your valuables, and that means food and water, not money. Now, a town watch should be appointed for after—“

Dusk was struck with a sudden affliction. Burning pain ran up her leg and played through her chest. When the feeling touched her lungs it triggered dry and painful coughs. She doubled over, gritting her teeth and rolling on the ground. The hot, stabbing sensation wound its way down her back before dissipating into a tingle. She lay on the ground panting and whimpering.

The door to the hall swung open and rested against her, half-hiding her. Citizens hurried out to return to their dwellings and make preparations. Dusk had only just regained focus as the last of them were leaving. A finely dressed mare with a curly white mane was the last to go. Dusk croaked weakly, “Wait!” but her hoarse voice did not reach the mayor. She lay still a while longer and recovered. Soon she could not detect any trace of whatever had come over her, and she was left to wonder what had happened.

She picked herself up and looked inside the hall. It was indeed empty. Her stomach was also empty. “There’s no Derpy this time, so I’m really gonna have to take care of myself,” she realized. “And no stupid stuff,” she added determinedly. She scoured her view of Ponyville for sustenance. Slow to accept the coming famine, a fruit stand in front of the Farmer’s Corner down the street was still selling apples. A broad-shouldered colt who looked used to farm work stood overseeing the product and his filly. Dusk trotted a couple shops away and stopped. “No bits, no beer,” she recited.

She ducked behind the corner of a shop with boarded up windows. She stole another peek at the vendor and considered her options. She could appeal to their better sentiments. “Despite these harsh times, they’re probably as generous as a deprived mother who half-mistakes me for her baby,” Dusk murmured sarcastically and rolled her eyes. (It didn’t actually look like much when she rolled her eyes, she realized.) Ponies were supposed to find work to earn bits and buy food. The idea struck her as absurd in her situation. That would take way too much time, and wouldn’t she need food to work? The thought of giving up on food for now was vetoed by her belly’s angry growls. They would give her food if they knew what she was doing, but clearly, she couldn’t tell them. In fact, she was on the job, and she deserved some payment. “I ought to have a heck of a lot more payment than a meal, but you get what you can,” she grumbled.

She took another look at the fruit stand. The owner began talking with some pony through an open door behind him. He gave instructions to the little pink filly before stepping inside to discuss some pressing matter.

Dusk retreated behind the closed-down business where she was hiding and slinked through the alley. She crept up carefully along the wooden-slat wall of the Farmer’s Corner, dodging under a white windowsill to avoid detection from the two talking inside. She leaned half her face around the corner to look towards her target. She was close now, and it would be easy to blow it. The little one was watching, but luckily she was looking the other way down the street. She stared anxiously down the road that led out of town into the great “out there” where all the bad ponies came from.

Some of the apples were in a basket. “Thanks for setting that out for me,” she imagined telling the farmer. Dusk tiptoed out of her hiding place, assured of her stealth. She only made it a few steps before the filly spun around, her eyes wide as saucers under her yellow bangs.

“Daddy!” she cried in alarm. Dusk leapt to the fruit and took the handle of the basket in her teeth. The brash filly, brave with the close presence of her father, moved to block her retreat and indignantly whined, “Hey, stop it!” The colt’s head emerged from the door and took in the intruder with shock for a split second before reacting. Dusk desperately pushed the filly to the ground and stepped over to flee the scene with her loot. The little pink one bawled and the owner’s expression moved from concern to wrath.

The enraged father galloped after her; however nice or not he was before, the gloves were off now. The bandit dodged through the buildings on the other side of the street. She lost a couple of apples scrambling over the trash and debris in the alley, and was forced out onto the cross street by a fence. The owner had guessed her path and charged at her from the side, almost on top of her. She dashed the other way out of town with her pursuer a few steps behind. More apples bounced out of the swaying basket and rolled under her. She hoped that youthful vigor would be on her side, but that proved far too confusing for her to think about while running. In any case, the twice-slighted colt was gaining on her and she had to tuck her tail away from his pounding hooves.

Remembering her wings she forced the air ahead of her back into her pursuer’s face. Half-flying across the ground, she pulled away from him slightly, escaping the immediate threat of being crushed. She gasped through her teeth with the exertion. If the chase didn’t end soon she would run out of oxygen. Dusk made for a thicket of trees and low bushes. She pushed between scratching branches and had to fold her wings to keep from damaging them. The colt was bigger and smashed through the underbrush without falling behind. Now, however, she was really in her shadowy element. In the constant twilight, the shade of the trees was deep. Her streaked coat camouflaged her outline in the tangle of brush and sticks, and the dark little thief vanished.

Frustrated in his attempt, the apple vendor hollered, “Stay gone, you spider-hatched alley cunt! If you ever come back, I’ll chew you like tobacco.” With that, concern again broke on his face and he ran back to collect his daughter.

As Dusk recovered from the fear of being caught, she did feel bad about hitting the filly. “The little fool got in my way! What was I supposed to do?” she rationalized. Now holding more reason than usual to be wary of civilization, she continued away from the town. A raven crowed loudly above her and flew off. Startled, she found herself again running away. She fled up a path on a hill overlooking the town.

Something glowed blue beneath her and she tripped, landing on her face and flinging the prized fruit ahead of her out of the smashed basket. Finding only a stray root under her legs, Dusk lifted her deep eyes up to a figure that appeared from the dark. It loomed threateningly over her from the edge of the path where it crested the top of the hill. Against the faint light of the sky, Dusk could see an odd silhouette that began billowy and indistinct at the ground and ended in a defined point at the top. It stretched out a hoof to gently catch an apple that bounced forward out of the spilt basket. “Thanks,” said an unconcerned voice, and the glint of a haughty smile appeared on a half-concealed face.

Dusk stood and turned to run. A shimmering mist obscured the ground in front of her. Not to be tripped again, she jumped through the cloud, only to smack headlong into a sturdy tree branch. The mist dissipated around her as she thudded back to earth. Finding herself out-robbed and out-smarted, Dusk conceded defeat. Still exhausted and afraid to get back up, she only raised her head to see what the victor would do.

The assailant took a bite of the apple and surveyed Dusk’s disheveled and pathetic form, sprawled on the dirt. She came into focus; a blue unicorn wearing a purple magician’s cap and cape with an enormous sapphire broach. “So they chased you out of Ponyville too?” she half-sympathized, but she was really looking at the town. “None of them down there understand. They’re part of it. The other towns are too, but not like—Ponyville,” she sneered the name as an insult. “They’re all part of the world.” Dusk blinked uncomprehendingly; it was clear that the speaker thought her statement profound. The blue one caught her expression and frowned. “They’re all part of making a world that doesn’t have a place for ponies like us,” she explained. She raised her snout at Dusk and disclaimed, “Not that we’re the same, blank flanks.”

Dusk shrugged off the old insult and appealed, “So will you let me go?”

“If you want to run away from a place to sleep,” the unicorn shot back with an offer. Blue light emanated from under her tall hat, and the scattered apples obediently leapt into the basket. “Are you coming, or are you just going to lie there?”

Dusk realized that she didn’t have much of a choice; sadly, she still couldn’t seem to take care of herself. While the stranger wasn’t particularly friendly, she found it refreshing to hear a pony tell it like it is. Derpy was great but relentlessly cutesy. Dusk got up to follow, but first asked, “Who are you?”

The blue one put a hoof on her chest and boasted, “It’s Trixie.”