Ashes

by Cloud

Ponyville

By the time they reached the town of Ponyville, the wind had increased to a howling storm. Wind ripped at Shoe’s loose robes, dust and sand sticking to Glass’ matted coat. Buffeted, they slowly made their way past embankments of sand packed up against ancient homes of dried timber and cracked plaster.

Slipping over a raised earthen lip, they descended into the massive ant-lion pit that was the Ponyville well. Though the wind coiled violently in the deep pit, the rim mercifully shielded them from the most of the dust. Deeply breathing the wonderfully moist air, Shoes approached the wrinkled pony tending the well.

“Evening to you. We have need to fill our canteens,” she greeted. The elder stallion muttered in kind, taking an offered hooffull of brass coins. Slowly, he pulled at the aged and frayed rope, raising a bucket of murky water. With a glow of her horn, Shoes freed most of the dirt from the water before filling their canteens – scowling as the elder pony drew a hoof across his chest in a large, inverted T.

She spoke evenly: “We need lodging – all night.” A nod. “…And, I don’t suppose you can help me find someone?” Questioningly, “Is Mirror still in town?”

As Glass slept, Shoes slipped into the cool night. She shivered in the rapidly-cooling air, than silently trotted through the moonlit streets. When she knocked on a particular door, it opened, and she shared a brief embrace before slipping into the lantern-lit room beyond.

“It’s been too long,” Shoes smiled.

“Far too long,” Mirror agreed, offering a small box of green reeds. Shoes took one, nibbling at the end of it. “Sit, let’s have a game,” she insisted.

Moments later, the unicorns lay beside a raised block on the floor, opposite eachother, each deftly levitating a series of colorful pewter tiles. “It has been some time since your escorts got you this far,” her fiend commented – a question underlying the statement.

“Most treasure hunters give up,” Shoes admitted as her friend placed a tile down. “But this one’s different,” placing a tile to the side of the first.

“Oh? Do tell,” Mirror asked, studying her tiles.

“An academic,” Shoes continued. “A fool, but dedicated to his curiosity.” Mirror began to reply, but she cut her off: “He wants to go into Everfree.”

Mirror’s eyes widened. “Pissing fool,” she muttered – a tile snapping down, punctuating the insult.

“But he intends to pay well.”

“Much brass?”

“Gold. And he’s good for it, too.”

Shoes’ companion glanced up, surprised at this. Then with concern, “You won’t actually… Go in to Everfree, will you?”

She scoffed with a smile, “Of course not, I’m not that stupid!”

Author's Note:

Pardon my French. Won't happen again - promise.