Title:           Goldilocks: A Tatzlpony Tale (Part 12)
Author:          AngryWino
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/xiG6k9Cg
First Edit:      Saturday 20th of February 2016 11:15:11 AM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Friday 26th of February 2016 02:35:48 PM CDT

>You woke up with the sunrise, trying to be quiet so you wouldn’t disturb Goldie.
>No dice - she had her tail coiled around you for a reason.
>She feels better about you going off without her, since you promised to return.
>And since you promised she would get a guided tour of the town from her friends.
>But she still insists on a cuddle before she lets you go.
>And breakfast.
>And even then, she keeps finding excuses for keeping you around, until Applebloom and her friends arrive, full of energy.
>So you got to Sweet Apple Acres a little later than you had planned, and found Big Mac already waiting patiently for you.
>He already has a well-sprung cart hitched up for the journey.
>And that’s how you find yourself, walking alongside the taciturn red pony as you follow the railroad tracks out of town, with an empty cart rattling along behind you.
>Trying your best to stifle a yawn.
>On the fifth failed attempt, Big Mac sighs.
>”Ah told ya you needed to get a good night’s sleep, Anon.”
“Yeah well, I tried. But Goldilocks kept me awake.”
>The words have been blurted out, apparently without passing through your brain for editing.
>You immediately blush, realizing what you had just said.
“That is, to say, er…”
>Big Mac chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his barrel.
>”No clarifyin’ needed, Anon. I’m a big pony, an’ I can fill in the blanks.”
>He continues to chuckle as you grin and rub the back of your head in embarrassment.
>”So how far are we going to follow the tracks?”
“Let me think, here…”
>You retrace your journey with Goldilocks in your head.
“Just into the woods, on the other side of the trestle. Then we look for an old track off to the right.”
>Big Mac nods.
>”I think I know it. That’s a long way for a walk. How long did it take you?”
“Most of a day, I think.”
>Big Mac nods again.
 
>”Welp. Hop in, then.”
“Huh? Naw, I’m okay, you don’t have to do that.”
>You grin, but you have to stifle another yawn.
>”Anon, not to put too fine a point on it, but you’re kinda slow. Now, I may not know much, but I know we’ll make better time if ya swallow yer stubborn pride, and get in the cart.”
>You try to think of a counter-argument, but come up empty.
>Horse sense wins again.
>Big Mac stops, and with a sigh, you heave yourself up into the cart.
>There’s no seat, so you settle yourself in as best you can.
>”All set back there? Hang on!”
>And with that, he sets off at more than double your previous pace.
>For him, an easy canter.
>Hanging on is definitely necessary - the lightly loaded cart springs threaten to toss you over the side at every respectable bump.
 
>The cart won’t cross the trestle, so Mac heads upstream for a bit to find a ford.
>His crossing keeps the cart relatively dry, much to your relief.
>Not that you mind getting wet, but for the things you plan on bringing on the return trip.
>The tracks have a decent maintenance trail alongside, so it’s not a terribly hard ride through the woods.
“There, just ahead on the right!”
>You spot the overgrown, rutted track angling off into the dense woods.
>Big Mac nods.
>”Eeyup, I thought I knew it. This is an old trade road. It fell out of use when they built the railroad, about ten years ago.”
“You’ve been this way before?”
>”Not this far. How much further is it?”
“To the edge of the woods, near the big river.”
>Big Mac actually shows some surprise at this.
>”The big river? Why, that’s practically the Equestrian frontier!”
“Really? I had no idea Ponyville was so close to the border.”
 
>You think about it for a moment as Big Mac pulls the cart off the railroad maintenance path, and onto the bumpy, overgrown old trade road.
“Well, I have no idea where I actually started from, and we just sort of picked the first town we came across.”
>”Where are y’all from?”
“I don’t really know where Goldilocks is from. I’m not even from this world.”
>Big Mac pulls the cart on in silence.
“Does it bother you that I’m an alien from another world?”
>The red farm pony almost laughs.
>”Y’all seem like decent enough folks. A-J and A-B think you’re okay, and that’s good enough for me.”
“Good to know ya, Big Mac.”
 
>Finally you reach your destination.
>An old caravan leaning at a crazy angle by the side of the disused trade road, its front wheels buried nearly to the axle in the ground.
>Sunlight filtered through the leaves paints bright spots all over the fading green walls and roof.
>You heave yourself out of the cart, and work the kinks out of your joints from the rough ride.
>”You okay there, Anon?”
“Just making sure I still have all my teeth, thanks.”
>Big Mac chuckles at your reply, then studies the caravan with a critical eye.
>”Looks like it got stuck in soft ground. If we had came out here with the right equipment and a few extra hooves, we could probably get the whole thing out.”
“A project for another day, maybe.”
>”Who does it belong to?”
“We found some remains. I gave them a proper burial.”
>You point to the nearby grave, which you note with some satisfaction is undisturbed.
“Whoever it was, they had been dead a long time.”
>”Some of the old Griffon craftspeople used to ply their trades in wagons like these.”
“I guess. I’ll show you what I came back for.”
>You ascend the steps and let yourself in, retrieve one of the small music boxes you had left behind, and wind it up, bringing it outside to show to Big Mac.
 
>As you open the cover of the carved wooden box, a lullaby starts to play.
>Big Mac’s ears perk up at the sound of the music, and he leans over to inspect the box.
>”That’s a mighty fine piece of salvage work there, Anon.”
“Well, I grabbed the tools already. I always used to tinker with stuff like this back home.”
>You close the box, wrapping it in one of the pieces of cloth you had brought along with you.
“More to the point, Goldilocks really likes them. This is where she heard music for the first time.”
>You point to the caravan.
“She had herself a big scare, too, when she discovered the remains. But I wanted to get some of the music boxes for her. She really likes it.”
>Big Mac nods thoughtfully, as you set the wrapped music box in the cart, then grab one of the wooden crates you had also brought along.
“And maybe, if I can figure it out, I might set up shop making them. I can’t really go on living on everyone’s good graces forever.”
>”Well, best get to it, then. There’s only so many hours of daylight.”
 
>You fill up two of the crates with the copper discs, packing them carefully so they don’t scratch each other.
>You examine the big music box carefully and figure out how to remove it from its stand, and then carefully put it in the cart, followed by the stand, which turns out to be intricately carved woodwork.
>A work of art in its own right.
>Eighteen small music boxes are carefully wrapped and stacked in the cart.
>You also pull out a sturdy wooden chest filled with precision tools, a few larger tools, some metal stock, a spyglass, and anything else you can think of that may come in useful.
>Deciding you have enough for this trip, you leave Big Mac to throw a tarpaulin over the load and tie it down, while you have a walk down the path.
>Revisiting old haunts, so to speak.
>At the edge of the woods, you look down over the grassy slope towards the river, taking in the view.
 
>Off to your right, using the spyglass you got from the caravan, you can make out a grove of small trees, where Goldilocks’s first clumsy expressions of physical intimacy towards you occurred.
>You have to smile as that incident replays itself in your mind.
>Therein lies a memory you don’t think you could ever forget.
/We’ve come a long way together since then./
/In more ways than one./
>And then a movement catches your eye, down on the opposite bank of the river.
>You recede into the shadows of the trees and train your spyglass on where you saw the movement last.
>There.
>One, two… three quadrupedal creatures.
>Sunlight glinting on metal, which had caught your eye in the first place.
>And a fourth.
>They look roughly pony-shaped, but they appear to be wearing some sort of leather armor.
>It’s tough to judge scale at this distance, but they look pretty big too.
>They keep to cover for the most part, trying to conceal themselves, but they seem to be looking for a place to cross the river.
>One of them wades out a into the river, then black tongues come out of its mouth, and lift up a long pike to feel the river bottom.
>Tatzlponies.
>Your old training kicks into gear as you observe and evaluate the group and its actions.
>A small group like this could be scouts, a raiding party, or some other advance element.
>They’re too lightly armed to be moving independently in open country like this, you think.
>They are almost certainly skirmishers, moving in advance of a larger force.
 
>You can’t see any others, and you know there is a large grassy plain on the other side of that river with little cover, before reaching a forest.
>Assuming they’re traveling roughly the same path you came in when you arrived here, the main body must be pretty distant yet.
>And if they are skirmishers, there will be more parties of similar size out.
>You decide that the smart thing to do now is get the hell out of here.
>You collapse the spyglass and recede further into the shadows.
>Moving as quickly and as quietly as you can, you jog back to the caravan where you left Big Mac securing the load to his cart.
>He has it hitched up and ready to go.
>”Where’d ya go?” he asks you cheerfully.
>You hold up a finger over your lips, closing the distance as rapidly as you can.
>You have no idea if the gesture means anything to someone with hooves, but seeing your expression, Mac’s smile vanishes and he falls silent.
>As soon as you get close enough, you whisper to him.
“We’re in trouble. We need to go back the way we came as quickly and quietly as possible.”
>Big Mac nods.
>”Get in, I can do quickly if you do quietly.”
>You nod and heave yourself into the cart, doing your best to stabilize the load so it won’t make noise.
>Big Mac takes off at a pretty respectable clip.
>The springs ride more easily with a load, but to your ears, the wheel noise is still pretty appalling.
>Hopefully, the scouts are far enough away.
>Hopefully, the woods are dense enough to muffle or confuse the sounds.
>You look down the path behind you.
>No signs of pursuit.
>The caravan is out of sight now.
>And then you see them.
>Two scouts are on the path, long behind you, but already moving quickly.
>Hopefully, they’re not carrying any ranged weapons.
“Jig’s up Mac! Forget quiet, we need speed!”
>”Eeyup!”
>Big Macintosh breaks into a full gallop.
 
>He puts on an impressive turn of speed for a pony pulling a cart like this.
>Clearly, he’s done this sort of thing before.
>Maybe not under these circumstances, though.
>The railroad appears ahead, and Big Mac turns to follow the maintenance trail back to Ponyville.
>The trail is smoother than the old trade road, and Big Mac pours on even more speed.
>Your biggest advantage is that you have a huge head start on your pursuers.
>Your disadvantage is that Big Mac is heavily burdened, and they aren’t.
/Screw it./
>You rummage around in the toolbox you grabbed and find a sharp knife.
/Better tell Big Mac the plan./
“Mac, I’m coming up there, and I’m going to cut the cart free so we can escape!”
>”Don’t you dare, Anon!” Big Mac shouts back between breaths.
>”That’s my best harness!”
/Is he for real?/
>You look behind and see the two tatzlponies round the turn, gaining on you.
>They don’t seem to be as fast as you expected, perhaps they are encumbered by their leather armor.
>The river looms ahead, and Big Mac has to slow to negotiate the bank.
“Just keep going Mac, the river isn’t that deep!”
>If some things get wet, oh well…
>Big Mac splashes into the river beside the trestle, and pulls for the opposite bank as hard as he can.
>On the other side is open ground and farmland - if they’re not ready to make themselves known yet, they’ll turn back…
>About half-way across, the cart suddenly bucks and halts, throwing you over the side with a splash.
>Regaining the surface, you see Mac straining to pull the cart free.
>You splash over to him.
“Leave it, Mac! We gotta go!”
>Mac looks at you, conflict written on his face.
>You can’t see your pursuers.
>But you can hear the rails ringing, and the trestle rumbling.
>Sweet, steam-powered salvation…
“Change of plan, get under the trestle!”
 
>You reach below the water’s surface and grab the wheel by the spokes, lifting for all you’re worth.
>It’s a strain, but you manage to clear whatever the wheel is hung up on.
>With you pushing and Mac pulling, you manage to get yourselves under the trestle.
>Hopefully, that’s enough concealment.
>From the direction of Ponyville, the approaching train begins to cross the river, its wheels making their distinctive clacking on the rails over the bridge.
>The engine passes overhead, blowing steam onto you both from its pistons, and filling the air with the stench of hot oil as it passes.
>Thankfully it’s spent steam, and feels like the spa treatment you’d had the other day.
>Looking out on both sides of the tracks, you see no sign of your pursuers whatsoever.
“Let’s go…”
>You and Mac emerge from under the trestle as the caboose rumbles past, and clamber up the opposite bank, towards Ponyville.
>Big Mac shakes the water off his coat, as you risk a last glance down the tracks.
>As far as you can see, the two Tatzlponies are gone.
>Hopefully the approaching train, and the accompanying threat of discovery, led them to choose discretion as the better part of valor.
>You allow yourself a sigh of relief and start walking.
>”Anon, I told you before, we’ll make better time if you get in the cart.”
/Wow. He doesn’t even sound winded./
>You stop, turn back, and climb in.
”Good call, Mac. We have to let Princess Twilight know about those soldiers as soon as possible.”
>”Eeyup.”
 
>The sun has mostly dried you out by the time Big Mac pulls the cart, with you and it’s contents, into the main square outside the castle.
>You heave yourself out, and fish in your pouch for the right coin.
“Big Mac, you are my friend for life. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, let me know.”
>Handing him the coin, you start up the stairs into the castle.
>”Anon, this is a hundred-bit coin. We agreed on sixty, remember?”
“Keep the change, friend. You’ve more than earned it today.”
>You head inside and make a beeline for the map room, hoping you will find Twilight there.
>She isn’t, but Spike is.
>”Whoa, dude, what happened to you?”
>You must look a mess.
“Kind of a rough day. Where’s Twilight?”
>”She’s in the Library…”
“Thanks. Could you give Big Mac some help out front?”
>”Sure!”
>Yo find the library door open, so you walk on in, finding Twilight Sparkle in front of a large book, writing on a scroll with a quill.
>She looks up as you enter and gasps.
>”What happened to you, Anonymous?” she asks, genuinely concerned.
>You must look more of a mess than you thought.
“How are your plans coming?”
>Her expression changes in an instant at the tone of your voice.
>”Almost finished, why?”
“We’re out of time.”
>You tell her about the scouts you and Big Macintosh encountered.
>She takes it all in remarkably calmly, considering how worked up she’d been about it yesterday.
>You try to give her a rough idea where the army probably is, using the map in the map room.
>The glowing cutie marks still spin over the castle.
“At a guess, I would say that army is probably no more than a day’s march away. They’re trying to move without being observed, so I’m guessing they’ll mass their forces before they break cover.”
>She nods, deep in thought.
 
>”I see. I was hoping for more time. And it explains why the weather ponies haven’t seen them. Any idea how many there are?”
“All I saw was the four scouts. And since they saw me, I assume they know I saw them. They may advance their timetable, if whoever’s leading that army has any sense.”
>Twilight nods again. “We’ll be ready,” she smiles determinedly, almost confidently. “Thank you for telling me about them.”
“Yeah. Where’s Goldilocks?”
>”I think she’s at Sweet Apple Acres, with the Cutie Mark Crusaders.”
“The who-what now?”
>You hadn’t heard the term before.
>”Applebloom and her friends. Even though they all have their cutie marks now, they still call themselves that.”
“Ah. Thanks.”
>You head back down the hall to the entrance.
>Out front, you find Big Mac waiting, his cart now empty.
>”Need a lift somewhere?”
>You crack a grin.
“Yeah, Sweet Apple Acres, and thanks for waiting.”
>”You might want to get yourself looked at, too.” Big Mac says. “Hold out yer hand.”
>You do so and he drops four coins into it.
>Forty bits.
>”Your change.”
>You start to protest.
“Big Mac, you really saved my bacon back there…”
>He interrupts you. “You woulda done the same for me. I don’t feel right taking more than we agreed on, sixty bits will be just fine.”
>Realizing it would be useless, and possibly insulting, to argue the point, you pocket the coins and climb into the cart.
“Thanks.”
 
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