The train pulls away with a deafening roar, leaving a rush of chatter in its wake—ponies reuniting with family, their voices mingling with the buzz of phone calls. You glance at your watch, your lips tightening in a frown. Of course, he's late.

Applebuck, the so-called child of a family friend, couldn't be more different from you if he tried. Brash, rude, and perpetually filthy—his hooves always caked in mud and grime. The mere thought of his smug, infuriating face sends a ripple of annoyance through you. And now, there he is, sauntering toward you with all the urgency of a sloth, three minutes past the agreed time, as if he owns the place.

He stops in front of you, looking impossibly unimpressed, and drawls;

“Howdy. Welcome to Appaloosa, squirt.”