• Published 21st Jan 2015
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The Mailmare - Bad Horse



The Equestrian Postal Carrier's Hoofbook lists three circumstances under which mail service may be suspended. The end of the world is not one of them.

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3. Introductions

“She doesn’t like the feel of leather,” another one said, and she recognized the rough voice at once. He was dead brown, the color of the deadest parts of the Waste, and his mark was a dirty wind funnel of the kind she sometimes saw spinning across it. “Don’t worry, honey. You’ll get used to it soon enough. Might even get to like it.”

“It’s just strips we cut from a dead wolf we found,” a third voice said.

“Shut up, Corkscrew,” the tall one said.

“I just don’t want her thinkin’—”

“Shut up, Corkscrew,” he said again. “You got no sense of the dramatic.” He sidled up to Derpy, who was still struggling to get back to her feet. “Lean against me and push,” he said.

Derpy did, and together they pushed her back up into a standing position. He stepped back and studied her.

“So you’re the Mailmare,” he said.

“I’m—I’m a mailmare,” Derpy said, keeping her head down.

“You seen any others?”

“Not lately.”

He whinnied in amusement, and grinned at the others. “I like a girl with a sense of humor.”

From the slow way he said it, like he expected them to listen and to laugh when he finished, Derpy guessed that he was the leader.

“Look at me when you talk to me,” he told her.

She raised her head.

He jumped back a step. “What in Tartarus is wrong with your eyes, girl?”

She blinked and looked back down.

The dirt-colored pony walked around her slowly, inspecting her like she was something he’d bought and thought he’d paid too much for. “Who cares about her eyes? It’s her other end I’m interested in.” He stopped by her cutie mark. “Bubbles,” he said. “Mind if I call you Bubbles?” He ran one hoof slowly up and down her flank.

Derpy shivered, and her hind leg twitched.

The tall one looked at each of her eyes in turn. He waved a hoof over them, and she followed it with the good one. He snorted, as if it were some kind of cheap trick.

“I heard about you a week ago, in Gadfly Gulch. And you know, I wanted to believe in you. I wanted to.” He spat on the ground. “And now I find you’re just a crazy mare with a sack of old letters from dead ponies.”

Derpy kept her head down. She stomped her hind leg, as if she could shake it clean of the dirt pony’s touch. “Doesn’t mean they don’t matter,” she said softly.

He snorted. “I looked at some of them letters.” He nudged one of the envelopes towards her over the dry grass with his hoof. “This one’s an electric bill. Five years overdue.”

“Uh-oh!” Dirt Pony said. “Somepony’s gonna get his power shut off!”

The tall pony stepped on another envelope. Then he lifted one hoof and flicked it, and a blade snapped out of something strapped to the inside of his pastern with a snick. He cut the letter open, flicked the blade shut again, and pulled a letter out, which he spread on the ground.

“Hey!” Derpy said. “That’s not yours!”

“Dear Sweet Mint,” he read. “Thank you for interviewing with us and sharing more about your background and experience. After giving our full consideration, we have decided not to move forward with your application at this time.” He looked up at Derpy.

“T-tampering with the mail is grounds for suspension of service,” she said.

“Oh no!” Dirt Pony wailed. “She’s gonna cut off our mail service!”

“I was almost feeling sorry for you,” Tall Pony went on. “But the way I see it, you brought this on yourself by coming back here for those letters. Hell, you’re probably too crazy to care.”

Derpy shut her eyes. Maybe she was too crazy to care about the right things anymore. Things like staying safe and getting by.

And if she wasn’t crazy, well—maybe she could be. If she could shut her eyes and go away for a while, maybe everything would be better when she came back.

Or maybe she’d never come back. She tried that thought out, and found it seemed at home in her mind, and worn smooth with handling, like it had been there a long time already.

“But where are my manners? Updraft, bring our visitor food and drink. The finest we have.”

A dappled Appaloosan pegasus hurried back into the bushes and returned shortly with a sack hanging from his teeth. He set it down and took out two wooden bowls, which he set between Derpy’s front legs. Into one he poured water, and into the other he dropped a pile of dry and dusty carrots.

“Eat up, Bubbles,” Dirt Pony said.

Derpy looked at the faces of the other ponies, wondering if this was some kind of joke. But they all watched her seriously, waiting. She plunged her nose into the bowl of water and began lapping it up. She hadn’t had a drink for hours, and nothing to eat in longer than that.

She tried to chew the carrots slowly. It wasn’t herself she was worried about, she decided. It was her friends. Wondering what happened to her.

The ponies stood watching silently until she had choked down the last of the stringy carrots, barely noticing the grit and dust that had already begun to settle on them, and lapped up the last drop of water.

“Well,” Tall Pony said. “Now that we’ve wined and dined you, I guess it’s time for you to do your part.”

“Wha—but I didn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“—Then you shouldn’t’ve eaten our food,” he said. “It’s just a business transaction. Always has been, if you ask me. I’m just making sure everypony plays it fair. I reckon we’ve already given you more than you’ll give us, by today’s market prices.”

“S-some ponies would share their food out of hospitality,” Derpy said.

“And some mares would give a fellow what he needs out of the kindness of their hearts. Oh, wait, I forgot: They won’t.” He began pacing back and forth. “I don’t see much of a difference between them that take, and them that have and don’t give.”

“Shut up and get on to the takin’,” Dirt Pony said.

“You’re going to be our guest for awhile,” Tall Pony said. “We don’t get many lady callers in these parts, let alone a celebrity like yourself, so the boys are all right eager to welcome you.”

“Speaking for myself, I got enough welcome stored up in me to last for days,” Dirt Pony said.

“We’re kind of well-known around here ourselves,” Tall Pony said. “My vulgar associate here is Dust Devil.”

Dirt Pony flashed a grin with about twice as many teeth as might look friendly. “Friends call me Dust. Enemies call me Devil. Take your pick.”

“He’s lying. He’s got no friends,” Tall Pony said.

Dust Devil. Derpy shivered. Why did he have to tell her their names? Now she would never forget him. Those two little words would always be enough to bring him back. “Please,” she said. “Just get on with it.” She was shivering all over, and her legs were burning from the effort of standing with her legs stretched apart.

“Sorry,” Corkscrew said. “We’ve never—”

“Shut up, Corkscrew,” Dust Devil said. “And speak for yourself.”

“I can’t do both!”

“The stupid one is Corkscrew,” the leader went on. Corkscrew, a pale blue pegasus, lowered his ears. “The quiet one in the back is Updraft. And I am Tale Spin.” He took a bow.

“Tailspin?” His cutie mark might have been a spinning wheel, but then again it might have been a spinning pony. It was hard to tell under the thick layer of prairie dust.

“Tale Spin,” he said sharply. “Two words. As in a spinner of tales.”

“If you say so,” Dust said, and snickered.

Tale Spin stopped in front of Derpy. They stood there for a few moments looking at each other without speaking.

“I’ve got a letter for you,” Derpy said, and collapsed.