30 Days/ 30 Stories

by Fenton

Closing Time Part1

“Here, we shall be fine.” Steel Grip pointed at a small clearing, a small river flowing between the trees. The Moon was already high in the sky and was lighting what would soon be their camp for the night.

The other pony made a few steps with noise of shackles, and sat down on a trunk.

Steel Grip tied the lead rope to a branch. “I’ll collect some woods for the fire,” he told him. “It won’t be long. In the meantime, don’t try anything.”

He had warned him more by habit than anything else. His prisoner wasn’t the most hyperactive pony he had traveled with. He had barely spoken the whole time, just nodding at Steel’s orders, though Steel Grip was pretty sure he shouldn’t trust his calm. His eyes were burning with determination. He didn’t know where it was aimed at, but he hoped it wasn’t at ending his life. After all, the stallion had become famous for taking a pony’s life, and there was nothing that said he wouldn’t do it again. Moreover, Steel Grip had heard he had broken the neck with his bare hooves. “*CRACK*, just like a nut,” had told him the sheriff.

Once he had collected enough wood, he came back to the clearing and started preparing the campfire. It didn’t take him long with his tinder lighter.

“By the way, we should arrive at Canterlot tomorrow,” he said.

No reaction. That wasn’t much of a surprise, Steel Grip was usually the only one talking.

Once the fire was warm enough, he rummaged through his saddlebag and took out several boxes.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked presenting the boxes. “We have barley, oats and bran.”

“Whatever,” replied the prisoner.

Steel Grip rolled his eyes and gave him the box of oats.

They both ate in silence, only broken by the sound of metal chain each time the prisoner was moving his bowl.

The fire flickered, the dancing flames shedding a new light on the prisoner’s figure. Steel Grip had already seen the same figure. It was in Ponyville.

“You’re an Apple, right?” he asked.

Even though the stallion kept his composure, Steel Grip saw his eyebrow twitched.

“Yeah, you’re an Apple. What were you doing in Manehattan? You Apples are usually farmers. Big cities aren’t your thing.”

“It’s a long story,” the stallion replied, keeping his eyes on the fire.

“It’s a good thing we have all night.”

He gave him a look, and Steel Grip felt his poise staggering. His eyes were two cracks, opened on a bleeding and burning wound, each one feeding the other.

Steel Grip winced. “You could start by giving me your name,” he said, trying to escape the unease he had just felt.

“... I’m Sturdy Core.”

Author's Note:

Here is a first part because, frankly, I didn't have enough time to really develop this story and make it end without taking awful shortcuts. The rest will come the next day, and it should be only a two parts story.

See you tomorrow.