The blonde stallion laid there, his body grew weaker by the minute as the life pooled from his body upon the ground. He watched helplessly as they took apart the wagon and looted the contents. He wanted desperately to stop them, to demand his body to get back up and buck those thieving bandits in their jaws. Sadly, it refused to listen after taking a sharp blow from behind. He could feel the dull ache where the blade has imbedded itself. Even that started to go numb.

The stallion couldn't believe this was happening. It was suppose to be a simple trip to town. He never thought it would end like this. Even worse that there was nothing that he could do to stop it.

His vision blurred amongst a flash of white. Images danced in front of him while he struggled to keep himself from slipping into dreamland. Images of familiar places and faces flew by as he began to remember. Remember how was laying in the rough desert sand, awaiting the reaper's scythe.

It was a year ago. With a saddle bag on his back and the wind in his chocolate-colored mane, he traveled from place to place collecting materials to help continue his projects. As a blacksmith, he prided himself in making the best whether it be horseshoes, masks, blades, or lockets. Heck, he'd even make false teeth if somepony asked. Trouble was getting the material to make what he needed. Thus every year he'd take a cart and go to a pre-designated route of his own design, collecting and buying various metals and equipment. He even offered his services while on his route, which would help him on his travels. He followed this path ritualistically for the past 10 years. This year didn't seem any different. Fate, however, had other plans. As he traveled through the Everfree forest on his way to his final destination, a clap of thunder echoed across the sky. A terrible storm came upon him.

Rain cascaded down without warning, drenching him faster than a bucket of water. With no other options, he galloped to the closest town marked on his map. A small town that he had passed by many times, never thinking of setting hoof upon it until now. He figured a small town like that wouldn't have what he needed but neither was this rain. With the rainwater coming down on his back, the place had just what he would need. Shelter.

Once out of the forest, the stallion immediately found himself at a strange tree line. Not the kind that you'd find naturally in a forest with no set pattern, only naturally placed in every which way. These trees, these apple trees, were placed neatly in rows. Somepony had obviously taken great care in planting each one; all the branches were neatly trimmed and filled with rip apples. Red ones, green ones, yellow ones. Though the thought was only fleeting as the storm reminded him of its presence. He rushed to the nearest tree, taking shelter underneath. Its leafy branches held back most of the rain. Unfortunately, standing underneath a tree during a storm proved to be a painful idea.

Lightning boomed from the heavens and struck the very tree the stallion took shelter under, knocking him back with extraordinary force. His body slammed into a nearby tree with a resounding smack! Shearing pain erupted in his spine. The last thing he could recall before the world went black was the sound of hooves and the cry of a young mare's voice.

The stallion regains consciousness. He noticed that he no longer felt the stinging cold of wet rain upon his body nor the sharp pain he felt before. His body had been bandaged up, his clothing hanging just outside the window to dry in the now bright sunny sky. How long was he out? How did he get here? Why was he in someone else's bed? Questions poured into his head like a waterfall. It wasn't until the sound of an opening door was heard did they finally stop.

A mare of mature age walked into the room with a tray of fresh apple pancakes and apple cider. She was a finely built mare, one that had a figure of one who does honest, hard work on a farm. He didn't recognize her. The way she approached him told him that she didn't mean him any harm. His stomach too welcomed the mare as he was given the tray of food. The stallion asked where he was and how he got here.

The mare told of how one of her family members heard the loud explosion and saw him lying motionless on the ground. Not ones to ignore a pony in need, they all carried his limp body back in and did their best to patch him up. They weren't any doctors, but they knew a thing or two about fixing injuries. He was lucky the lightning only hit the tree and not him. Otherwise, he'd have found himself in a coffin instead of a bed. The mare, out of curiosity’s sake, asked what a stallion so far away from home would be doing in Everfree forest.

He explained, while munching on a slice of apple pancake, that he was traveling to get materials for his shop. He worked as a blacksmith and he couldn't get certain metals locally. Then he explained how he was on his way to the last place on his map before a storm came out of nowhere and had to find someplace nearby.

Satisfied with the answer, the mare told him that he's welcome to stay until he can get back on his own hooves. She let him know that they will be bringing in a doctor to make sure he was alright.

The stallion thanked the mare for her family's kindness. Once he ate the rest of his breakfast, she took the tray and left him to rest. It seemed luck was with him that day.

The doctor came that afternoon. Giving his body a good look over before telling him what he found. A few cracked ribs, swelling and bruises around the back, sprained ankle. He had worse, though it doesn't make healing any faster. He was told to stay in bed and not do any physical activities for a while. He couldn't remember how long, he usually didn't pay much attention to doctors concerning how long he needed to heal.

The first few days were agonizing. With nothing to keep his hooves busy, he was trying to find ways to relieve boredom. The time spent in bed was made bearable thanks to visits he would get from various members of, as he would later learn, the apple family. Each member would be different yet would always start with them asking if he was alright. Not that he minded, but being asked the same question did grate on him. Occasionally somepony would tell of their work on the farm. The young ones would ask him questions about life outside the farm. The one who visits the most was the mare he had first set his eyes on that first day. She would often bring in his meal, spend the time together talking, and would often keep each other entertained.

It took him a few more days before he could stand. He felt jubilant finally being able to trot, getting out of the caged sheets of comfort. The first thing he did once back on his hooves was asking if he could help with any work that needs to be done. At first some of the family had been reluctant to let him do so after just recovering. He stubbornly insisted, wanting to work for all the kindness they gave him. It didn't feel right to not give back something in return, though he conceded to not being allowed to carry anything yet. They finally agreed, allowing him to help with apple bucking.

For the next few weeks, he helped with harvesting the apples in the fields with the mare showing him the ropes. While not as thrilling as banging hot iron, it had a certain appeal it. After they get enough apples, she would bring him to the nearby town, the one he tried to get to just a week earlier during the storm, to sell their harvest.

It was an unexpected sight to see an outsider from beyond the forest enter the town of Ponyville. The villagers were weary of the stranger at first. Though after the mare had introduced him to a few of them, they slowly began to warm up to his presence. It was a shame that he had to leave so soon. The apple family were quite sadden to see the stallion leave now. He needed to go back and work the smithing shop. It was his passion and he couldn't give that up. The mare asked if he would ever come back to visit. He assured them he'd be back next year. So with a tilt of his hat and a cart hooked to his back, he made his trip back home.

In those few weeks, he experienced more joy than he had in the last 10 years. He built a bond of camaraderie with the citizens of Ponyville, a trust with the Apple clan, and a friendship with the honest farmer mare. He hadn't realized until now, but those were the best days of his life.

It was in that moment he made up his mind. Once he return home, he began working on something in his workshop. It was something he planned to give to the apple family, to give to the mare. A gift that he gave all his skill and hardwork into making. He would work on it during his free-time once his work was finished. He used many different materials and equipment to make it. There were many failed attempts, which he would simply melt down and try again. It was a delicate process. One that took him the whole year to make. Just in time too, it was his time to make his yearly trip and gather the materials he needed for his shop.

Before setting off, he engraved his signature upon it. Letting everypony know it was his work.

Placing his masterpiece in a small box, he settled it within the cart and went on his way.

It's a shame that fate dealt the stallion such a cruel hand. The sun had barely reached the horizon when a group of ponies lead by one sporting a jagged scar on his face attacked. The stallion did his best to elude his pursuers. He entered a canyon in hopes of losing them. He realized too late that they were actually leading him here. He remembered several of them rushing at him. He fought them off as best he could until he heard the sound of something sharp cutting the air. Then he felt the searing pain.

The blonde stallion laid there, his body grew weaker by the minute as the life pooled from his body upon the ground. He watched helplessly as they took apart the wagon and looted its contents. He watched his life pass him by. He watched as the one with the scar smirk at him. His lips moved, but he couldn't hear what the pony was saying.

He saw them take the box containing his masterpiece. His gift to the mare and the apple family. He felt sorrow. Sorrow because he wouldn't see them again. Then he felt angry. Angry at himself for letting himself die like this. Angry that these ponies were taking his promise away from him. He feebly reached a hoof in the direction of the box. As they loaded up the wagon, he began to murmur something. He repeated it over and over. He said it while they taken his things, while they laughed, and long after they were gone. He kept repeating the same thing over and over until his last breath.

“Give me back my promise...”

(Pre-readers: Meeester, OneLonelyPony )