The First Week: Chapter 1.

RRRRRR-CLICK! It didn’t take much effort for Ironheart to wake up in the morning. He jumped out of bed as soon as he heard his alarm and started for the bathroom. After bathing himself, Ironheart stared into the mirror for several moments. His head was bare, sans his brown mane. His eyes slowly made their way down his body’s reflection. He had an awkward shade of forest green as a coat; and, like all Earth Ponies, he was wingless. Emblazoned on his flank was a glorious, amazing, stylish, defining…

Nothing…

Ironheart was nearing adulthood, starting his fourth and final year at Mulewaukee High, but still had not earned his Cutie Mark.  He has been the victim of many cruel jokes by his peers, as they have all had theirs for many years. As he progressed through adolescence, the jokes’ frequency diminished, but not before Ironheart stopped showing signs of caring. He heard from his relatives and teachers that ponies who try to force something end up taking longer to accomplish their task. While his patience with the matter wore thin at one point, he regained his composure and just brushes off anything to do with the subject. He figured it was because he was good at many things, but destiny wouldn’t tie him to one until he discovers which he’s best at. Ironheart was a surprisingly talented musician, despite not having private instruction or parents who played. He was also an intelligent colt, who ranked nearly at the top of his class and received the highest test scores. Though he thought it was just a trait shared with all Earth Ponies, Ironheart was exceedingly strong; spending most of his time before his last year lifting weights and getting stronger.

He didn’t lift by choice, however. Ironheart was required to work out in order to keep competing in sports, most specifically: Hoofball. He also threw for Track and Field, but Hoofball came first. He wasn’t a great athlete by any standards, nor did he live to play the game. He played at the lowest level for the past three years. Ironheart played mostly because he never backed down from a commitment. He hated practicing, and always went home sore and felt like quitting every night; but he didn’t. Besides his instinct of dedication, there was something else that kept him going. Something he couldn’t explain, a force or feeling that gave him the sense to keep trucking through his difficulties in Hoofball. He occasionally reflected on this unseen motivation, but could never identify it.

After some self-reflection, Ironheart went about the rest of his morning routine. He let his dog out, ate some breakfast, and read a book until it was time to leave for school. It was the first day of both school and his last season of Hoofball. He both dreaded and looked forward to the practice after school; the anxiety came from the thought of the pain and exhaustion will inevitably overcome him, the anticipation because he thought he may finally realize what kept him going for the past three years despite the constant adversity that he faced.

About two hours after he woke, Ironheart was out the door on the way to Mulewaukee High.