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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
The Joy is in the Journey... Isn't It?
Trixie crested a hill, digging her hooves into the dirt until she was standing up straight. The wind played with her mane, tossing it around and in her face, which was annoying, but she ignored it. She grinned, breathing in the crisp valley air—laden with the scent of fresh pine needles, newly-harvested grain, and just a hint of wood smoke from the town—through her nostrils and then letting it out slowly. “It’s good to be back,” she said with a contented sigh.
She lingered on the hill for a moment, the sun hanging high overhead and the clouds drifting lazily by. There it was, just at the edge of the horizon—her home. After months of travelling, and months of wandering, and at least one month of begging for for food on the street, followed by a month of unsuccessfully mugging passing ponies for their coin purses she was finally home.
Trixie tipped her hat forward and began heading down the other side of the hill. When she reached the bottom, she glanced ahead at the town. “Huh,” she said, “I don’t remember it looking like that. Though, I suppose it has been awhile.” A grin came over her face as she adjusted the brooch holding her cape together. “No matter, the ponies of Hoofington surely haven’t changed.”
With a bit of a spring in her step now, Trixie continued on the road into Hoofington, relishing the feel of the dirt beneath her hooves, and the sound of the wind whistling through the grass. Having spent the last few months crossing dry deserts and vast oceans, there was a certain peace to be had simply walking down dirt path. She had fought all manner of creatures, from dragons and giant sandworms to lawyers and intellectual property suits, and now she was taking a well-deserved break.
However, as she closed the distance between herself and the town, a nagging feeling nagged at the back of her head. Something felt… off, but she wasn’t sure what it was. It could’ve been the way the wind was blowing, or that she hadn’t bathed in six weeks, but either way she couldn’t shake the feeling.
Finally, as she came to the outskirts of the town and saw farmers busy tilling their fields while children ran around laughing and playing, it hit Trixie. She stopped a little unicorn foal as she passed by her.
“You there, peasant child. Tell me, what town is this?” she asked, pointing to the gates of the town in front of her.
The filly cocked her head to the side. “You mean Lemonwood?”
“Lemon—Wait, is this not Hoofington?”
“Hoofington?” repeated the filly, frowning. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. “Oooooooh, I’ve heard of that place. Mommy says it’s waaaaaaaaaaaaaay over there,” she said, pointing her hoof back down the road Trixie had come from.
Trixie turned around slowly, looking back up the path she’d just spent months traversing. The wind, before so gentle, now simply felt annoying as it blew her mane all around. Trixie pursed her lips, closing her eyes. After a moment, she stamped her hoof and shouted, “Son of a—”
She lingered on the hill for a moment, the sun hanging high overhead and the clouds drifting lazily by. There it was, just at the edge of the horizon—her home. After months of travelling, and months of wandering, and at least one month of begging for for food on the street, followed by a month of unsuccessfully mugging passing ponies for their coin purses she was finally home.
Trixie tipped her hat forward and began heading down the other side of the hill. When she reached the bottom, she glanced ahead at the town. “Huh,” she said, “I don’t remember it looking like that. Though, I suppose it has been awhile.” A grin came over her face as she adjusted the brooch holding her cape together. “No matter, the ponies of Hoofington surely haven’t changed.”
With a bit of a spring in her step now, Trixie continued on the road into Hoofington, relishing the feel of the dirt beneath her hooves, and the sound of the wind whistling through the grass. Having spent the last few months crossing dry deserts and vast oceans, there was a certain peace to be had simply walking down dirt path. She had fought all manner of creatures, from dragons and giant sandworms to lawyers and intellectual property suits, and now she was taking a well-deserved break.
However, as she closed the distance between herself and the town, a nagging feeling nagged at the back of her head. Something felt… off, but she wasn’t sure what it was. It could’ve been the way the wind was blowing, or that she hadn’t bathed in six weeks, but either way she couldn’t shake the feeling.
Finally, as she came to the outskirts of the town and saw farmers busy tilling their fields while children ran around laughing and playing, it hit Trixie. She stopped a little unicorn foal as she passed by her.
“You there, peasant child. Tell me, what town is this?” she asked, pointing to the gates of the town in front of her.
The filly cocked her head to the side. “You mean Lemonwood?”
“Lemon—Wait, is this not Hoofington?”
“Hoofington?” repeated the filly, frowning. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. “Oooooooh, I’ve heard of that place. Mommy says it’s waaaaaaaaaaaaaay over there,” she said, pointing her hoof back down the road Trixie had come from.
Trixie turned around slowly, looking back up the path she’d just spent months traversing. The wind, before so gentle, now simply felt annoying as it blew her mane all around. Trixie pursed her lips, closing her eyes. After a moment, she stamped her hoof and shouted, “Son of a—”