There are a many great and interesting places in which to start a story. From epic chases to pie flinging shoot-outs; from high-brow philosophy to ankle-low comedy: all have been done before and all have been done magnificently. This story, however, must suffer under the burden of a mundane start; not because the tale itself is uninteresting, but more in that it is unfortunately necessary.

This story starts off with roads.

The carriage-way system of Equestria remains, so I am told, underdeveloped for a vast combination of reasons, the foremost of which are summarised here: the pegasi fly overhead, the earth ponies walk everywhere and the unicorns, when they deign to travel, go by train. Carriages are the last things anypony who is remotely anypony would ever think of using. As is usual with any business shackled to such unprofitable conditions, bits are always needed and are seldom spent.

The road the cart was travelling on showed it. It was one of those roads which had been laid rather than built, the grey rocks that outlined its passage having been fitted over the route of an ancient hoofpath. Drainage, it appeared, was also something that had been cut back on: large puddles scattered evenly along it gave the road a pockmarked appearance that was in no way helped by the shaggy overgrowth of weeds on either side. In short, it had been both badly built and given only the lightest maintenance over the years.

It was not a road that expected carts, and nor was it one that wanted them. In summer, the road would crack, its surface loosening under the blistering heat of the midday's sun. In autumn, it would become coated in a thick layer of damp leaves, loosened from the oaken forests that coated the surrounding hills like unkept stubble.The surface formed by this was almost as treacherous as the one gleaned during the winter months, when black ice would echo a cobweb’s pattern and attempt to snare the unwary. And in spring, the road itself would almost disappear and be lost beneath a tidal outbreak of green, as plant after plant tried to prove their dominance over all things made from stone.

This was not a road that should exist; this was not a road that wanted to exist.

And yet exist it did because, after all, if somepony was maintaining it – however badly – somepony must have been using it. Truth be told, this road was hardly alone in its suffering. All across Equestria roads as miserable as this one connected fading town to struggling village in a patchwork quilt of passageways. They existed to link together the towns that lived a strange half-existence in the eyes of the world, not forgotten so much as overlooked and surpassed, and their dwindling glory days forever retained as a patronising form of 'quaintness'.

The types of places where the gene pool had been left simmering away for far too long.

Patience. The end of this description is in sight and, regardless, this paragraph serves more as a summary for those that came before it. For those who have been, understandably, skimming through it: welcome. This is your chance to shine. The scene has been set as follows: a grey, weather-beaten road is winding through a hilltop crowned with trees. And that, in so many words, is it. Furthermore, if you can cast your mind back over such wearisome passages, there was made mention of a cart, and it is on this that we now focus our attention.

It was a simple, wooden cart: one of those made during more opportunistic times before the railroads had connected together the outlying settler towns – towns like Applelossa, and Ponyville before it. The cart had obviously been designed with two more ponies in mind than the two which were now pulling it: large, earth pony stallions both, on whom a description need not be wasted. I can assure you that they will not appear again. The cart itself had, some time in the past, been converted from ferrying building materials to carrying passengers. The archaeological record of this hasty conversion took the form of a shabbily put together tarpaulin roof. This did a more than adequate job of veiling whomever was inside from whomever might be out.

The reader may be forgiven for asking why we did not start off with the cart and make passing mention of the road instead. The answer is simple: the state of the road is important whilst the state of the cart is not, and the combination of cart and road is about to become very, though subtly, important.

A rock, perhaps loosened from its bed by some free-wheeling cart several months before, struck against the underside of the carriage's wheel and thrust it haphazardly into the air. There was a loud groan from within the depths of the cart. A shadow, sketched vaguely on the tarpaulin's walls, stretched itself into movement. A few seconds after that, and a purple nose thrust itself into a now widening gap between tarpaulin and carriage-side, its owner hastily sucking in deep breaths of the outside's salty air.

This is our protagonist, and it is probably best that she be introduced before the introduction ends.

Berry Punch was not the most famous purple pony to come from Ponyville; that honour belonged to a far more renowned lavender unicorn. However, if you were to ask amongst a more pink-coated and red-eyed population, Berry held an infamy that went nearly unmatched. Nopony could drink more cider; nopony could party harder – within normal physical limitations – and whilst it had been many a year since Berry had exercised such demons, the legends – as legends tend to – remained. All across Equestria, pubs and breweries still refused to serve anypony whose cutie mark even faintly resembled the dreaded grape and berry.

The carriage alights for a moment on the crest of a hill, pauses for a few moments in the air and then tumbles down it at a frantic pace, the rattling carriage causing the banged and bruised nose of Berry to quickly retreat from its foray outside. Here, I suppose, is as good a place as any to describe this runaway carriage's destination.

Burnstow was a curious place. Despite being one of the few settled areas in Equestria close to the shore, the village had remained underpopulated since its establishment. Perhaps it stemmed from the tales of mysterious music that were said to echo over the sand dunes, or perhaps from a residual instinct that reminded earth ponies to stay far, far away from the water. In either case, Burnstow's relevance is fleeting. It is brought up more to give a background to the stage on which we set this tale; imagine it being wheeled clunkily on during a Hearths Warming Eve play by a clever series of ropes and pulleys, and then left in the shadows for the actors to prance about before. You need only imagine a set of old, squat buildings – occupied solely by the stubborn – and set in a ring of stone, and this description is complete.

Leaving that behind, then, we move onto the real setting of this piece: Hucwind, from which the twinkling lights of Burnstow could always be faintly seen. Hucwind was one of those buildings that easily pre-dated the Return of Nightmare Moon – known as the Lunar Reunification in more polite circles – though it did not appear to have weathered the years entirely without incident. Several of the walls showed signs of having been replaced over the centuries, so that the building itself appeared to be lazily slouching to one side. It was painted in a plain white that gave off a faint suggestion of far too much time being spent around soap, as opposed to the far more healthy option of rolling in mud outdoors. A magnificently well-tended slate roof deflected the faint drizzle that was bearing down on it off into a series of gutters, which gave off a faint clanging sound as the water gushed through them. This noise, however, was more than masked by the roar of a turbulent ocean not sixty yards away from the building, the distance between being covered by a mixture of lawn, sand-dunes and shingle.

In short, the picture I am trying to portray is that of an old, yet clearly well tended-to building, close to the shore and a comfortable distance away from the glowing smudge on the horizon that is Burnstow. If you are imagining an old sea-side hotel, then you're not far wrong, and what little wrong remains is more than remedied by adding in a set of iron bars to each window.

The carriage sliped off the road and trundled its way along a side-lane, the now left-behind and more-than-adequately described road continuing off towards Burnstow. Having passed inside the boundaries of Hucwind, the carriage gradually draws to a halt, its arrival causing a buzz of activity to emerge from the building. Two pegasi dressed in the bard of the Royal Guards exit Hucwind first, their gold armour a welcome splash of colour amongst what has, up till now, been a palette composed of grey, green and white only – with the occasional, mistaken dribble of purple. They quickly trot out across the gravelled courtyard and transform themselves into living statues on either side of the carriage's rear.

Following after them is a white unicorn with a mildly pink mane, her horn aglow as a hat bearing a copy of her red-cross shaped cutie mark bobs up and down behind her. The hat makes several occasional swoops for her head that are, it seems, in vain– her pace being far too quick for it to make a stable landing. After a few moments of frantic trotting, she'd caught up to the pair of pegasi, hat successfully landed and now going through the final stages of careful adjustment atop her head. She gives a quick glance and a grin up to the rightmost guard, who seemingly breaks composure for a moment in giving a wry smile back.

After having spent a few seconds sorting herself out, the unicorn wreathed the back door of the carriage in a gentle, blue glow before carefully tugging it open. Berry fumbled out after it, falling past the outstretched hoof of the unicorn and onto the ground, where she curled up into a shivering ball, her breaths coming in thick gasps.

“Err... Are you alright, miss?” the unicorn asked, a concerned look on her face.

“I'm... I'mma.... I'mma gonna be fine, just... just get c-carriage sick, that's all...” Berry burped loudly, the echoes bouncing off the walls, scaring a few birds into the air and causing her cheeks to glow like embers. Behind her back, the carriage suddenly started off again, the wheels churning up mud and pebbles into the air. Within a few moments, it had vanished.

“Right... ahem, I mean: All right then.” The unicorn drew herself up slightly and her words took on a more formal tone. It was obvious that she'd practised this greeting before. “Welcome to Hucwind health facility, part of the Celestia's Intervention Institute, and your new home whilst we help you quash whatever addiction or ailment you're suffering from.”

Berry raised her head and blinked up at her. “Nurse... Heart?” she ventured. The unicorn looked quite taken back.

“How did you... Wait, you're from Ponyville, aren't you?” She chuckled. “Know I look quite like my sister, but we're not really the same pony.” She winked. “The clue's in the horn. My name's Marigold Heart; the pony you're thinking of is my sister Red Heart.”

“Sure look like her,” Berry mumbled. Nurse Heart once again chuckled in response.

“If you think that's bad, try having a whole family full of nurses all over Equestria, all with exactly the same cutie mark. My only fortune is that I just happen to look like Red. Got a set of sisters in Hoofington that even my parents can't tell apart, and –” The pegasus on her right gave a slight cough, and she broke off with an abashed look.

“Right. Anyway, I'll explain the rest whilst we get you to your room. If you can walk that is.” She gave her another concerned look. “Are you sure you're alright?”

Berry gulped once and pushed herself up with a set of trembling limbs. She swayed slightly as she looked around the courtyard, a faint frown settling on her face as her gaze travelled across the building.

“I'll be just fine.” She breathed out heavily and seemed to gather some sort of control over herself. “What's this place called again?”

“Hucwind health facility,” Nurse Heart repeated, nodding to the Pegasi accompanying her as Berry tottered closer. “We're here to help you get over whatever you're suffering through.”

“Not sufferin' through anything,” Berry replied, her tone sour. The group had already set off and were now halfway towards the building's entrance: a plain, oaken door that looked several centuries older than the brick it was framed in.

“We help you through that too,” Nurse Heart replied, hooves crunching on the wet gravel. She gave Berry a sideways look. “You do know why you're here, don't you?”

“Didn't get much of a chance to ask. I'd just got back from our local Sisterhooves Social, went straight to bed and then woke up in that goddam cart.” Berry shivered. “The ponies pulling it were less than helpful in telling me exactly why I was there.”

“Really? Well, that's not our usual protocol.”

Nurse Heart gave a tinkling laugh as the door in front of the group opened with a rush of heat, revealing a room that had been painted in a bright red and was well lit by a series of candles. A large quantity of doors seemed to populate the walls, the spaces between them being occupied by several pictures showing scenes of ponies frolicking together on a sunny field or napping blissfully under a glistening moon. In comparison to the weather outside, it was like opening a door out onto the surface of the sun.

As Nurse Heart and Berry entered, the two Pegasus dropped back, turning round smartly and taking up position on either side of the door. With a slight nod of farewell to one of them, Nurse Heart closed the door. The sound of the wind outside dropped dramatically, giving off the strange impression that she'd somehow shut out the world, and left this room entirely isolated from the rest of Equestria.

“Right. Now you're in from the cold, we can see about why you're here exactly.” Nurse Heart trotted off into a small side door, which quickly slapped shut behind her. Berry took a slow, serene glance around the room before closing her eyes and shaking her head. A faint rummaging sound suddenly started flowing out the side-door, before just as suddenly stopping.

“What did you say your name was again?” Nurse Heart asked, her head poking out the side door.

“I didn't,” Berry replied. Nurse Heart looked thunderstruck.

“Oh no! Didn't forget to ask, did I? Oh, I'm so sorry, it was just the way you arrived and-”

“It's Berry Punch.”

“From Ponyville, right?” Berry nodded and Nurse Heart's head retreated. The rummaging sound returned. “You know, we've got another one from Ponyville here. Don't know if you'll know him, though. Pegasus called Colonel Thunderlane.”

“Colonel?”

“Mmm-hmm. That's right. Colonel Thunderlane.”

“I didn't know he was a Colonel.” The rummaging sound paused and were replaced by a quick curse.

“Oh no, gone and put my hoof in it again, haven't I?” A sigh drifted out into the room. “We get access to all the government's information here. Guess if you don't know, he just didn't tell you. Hmm... Right.” The rummaging sound did not resurface. Instead, Nurse Heart emerged from the door with a worried look on her face and a folder floating along beside her.

“Couldn't find one with your name on, I'm afraid, and –”

“Does that mean that I shouldn't be here?” Berry interrupted sharply.

“Well... not necessarily.” The folder beside her opened like a clam and a selection of sheets flew out. “This one arrived yesterday, and it's for one 'Berry Shine'. Don't suppose that's a typo, or...”

“I don't use that name anymore,” Berry said, a curiously lost look on her face. “Not since my husband died, anyway.” Nurse Heart winced slightly.

“Ah. Sorry. Didn't mean to pry, but, you know, government records. We really do get to see everything, which means that changing anything...” She hid her face behind a fan of paper. “Right. Lets see... as an earth pony you'll be in block two, of course, and it says here... ah, room seventeen.” The papers ducked down slightly. “That's a nice one, that is; has a view.” The papers returned. “And... ah. You're here for alcoholism.”

“I am not an alcoholic.”

“I'm sorry, but if you didn't have a problem with alcohol then you wouldn't be here.” The papers neatly stacked themselves back into their folder, which was then carefully placed on Nurse Heart's back.

“Maybe I shouldn't be here, then,” Berry replied, glaring slightly at Nurse Heart, who smiled gently in return.

“That's not as important as that you're here now and it's getting far too late to be trying to be going anywhere else. Besides, this is stamped with the authority of Princess Celestia herself. She set up the Celestia Intervention Institute after the Lunar Rebellion to help ponies who needed it, whether they wanted help or not.” Nurse Heart walked over towards one of the doors, her horn flashing as it twisted open. “So, I'm afraid it's either sleeping on the floor or in your bed.”

Berry didn't move. Nurse Heart's polite smile turned sympathetic.

“Please, Miss Punch. Don't make me call the guards.”

Berry scuffed her hooves at the ground for a few moments, faint traces of dirt brushing off her hooves and onto the carpet. Eventually, silently, she walked forwards, Nurse Heart giving her an encouraging nod as she went. The two travelled down the corridor, an awkward silence establishing itself as they passed by door after door.

“So,” Nurse Heart said, “you mentioned taking part in a Sisterhooves Social? What's your sister like, then?”

“Don't have one. Wasn't that on my file?” Berry replied. The uncomfortable silence returned.

“Ah,” Nurse Heart trilled, her voice a tad too enthused as the duo stopped before a door. “Here we are. Room seventeen.” The door flashed blue round the keyhole before swinging open, revealing itself to be several layers thicker than any door seen so far. Berry padded in after it, hooves near sinking into a carpet made of a thick, blue fuzz.

“Alrighty, then. That's that.” Berry didn't turn round. “Breakfast will be in the morning. Somepony will come round to pick you up, and you'll get a chance to meet with all the other patients. Nighty-night!” The door swung gently closed as the nurse left her alone.

It was really the kind of door that should have slammed shut. The atmosphere demanded it, and the weight of the door more than made it possible. But, alas, Nurse Heart didn't really seem to want to get into the spirit of things. Or at least, so it seemed for Berry. They had, after all, locked her up in some room to cure some affliction she didn't very well have, and that was after having dragged her some unknown distance across Equestria. She was trapped here under divine authority, no less. The only things missing were bars on the windows. Berry stole a quick glance over. There were bars on the windows. This, to Berry's rightful mind, confirmed that she wasn't a guest so much as she was a prisoner.

It really was the sort of thing for which a door should’ve slammed shut. Berry extended the visual robbery of her glance into a full-on room inspection.

There are rooms which are welcoming, rooms which are intimidating and rooms which are indifferent. This room was none of those: it instead belonged to the staunch middle-ground of rooms which haven't quite made up their minds over how they feel about you yet. A bricked in fireplace metamorphosed into an upturned nose; the ugly marble bust sitting on the mantelpiece above it, an angry wart. The curtains dangling over the barred windows were a quizzical frown; a writing-desk and small stockpile of quills and paper were a pair of tense lips. A door on Berry's left actually squeaked on its hinges as she looked at it, as if the room was trying to encourage her to evacuate to what was probably an en-suite and take her lack-of-class with her.

The bed, however, had no such reservations, and beckoned merrily to her like an old friend leaning out of a pub door; Berry was never one to pass up an invitation. She sashayed over to it, kicked the dirt off her hooves and onto the carpet and slumped down onto the bed. It sank down beneath her weight, the mattress tugging her cheek up and forcing her left eye shut. A breeze blew open the curtains; Berry's right eye was granted a look outside.

The darkness which had been hovering above the earlier scene had taken its leave of the heavens and begun to descend, casting much of the promised view from sight and into a sort of murky, half-hearted blackness. All Berry could make out were a collection of lights trailing across the ground some distance off. They illuminated their surroundings enough for her to spot the tell-tale lines of grass and hills: the lights were out on the dunes. An uncharitable, if likely accurate, thought gripped her. The lights were being held by guards, out to catch anypony who tried to escape. Berry frowned one-eyedly at them.

She was only here for the night. She'd be gone by morning, after she'd spoken with someone in charge. Trying to stop her from escaping at night was a fools errand. Foals.

Berry turned over and allowed her left eye a chance to look around, though it had to be content with the same view it had seen before, that of the room. The walls, Berry noted, were stuck between cream and a mustard yellow. She didn't know why she'd noted that, but noted it she had. Her left eye rolled around in its socket, looking in vain for something interesting. It focused on the marble bust across the room from her, sitting like a squat toad beneath a painting that was too dark to make out.

It was a very ugly bust of a very ugly stallion. He seemed to be frowning at Berry. She frowned back, before getting up and turning the statue very firmly towards the wall. She'd had quite enough of that attitude from inanimate objects for today. She trotted back over to bed, slumped into it and threw the covers over herself.

The room seemed to decide, all at once, that she would do; the atmosphere lightened incredibly. At almost the same moment, the light above Berry's head went out, and a purple hoof retreated back under the covers. A few seconds later, she started to snore.

And so, under the usual quickening of time that sleep brings, night went and morning came. Berry slept through the dawn, of course, and was only woken up by somepony hammering hard on her door.