Sand, sand and even more sand was all the inhabitants of Round Rock were able to see, at least at first. A shadow slowly approached the entrance and grew taller with every passing second. Everyone who was able to see it were fiercely looking in its direction and asking themselves who was crazy enough to leave the city and walk into the surrounding desert in this storm. But it quickly became clear that it couldn’t be an inhabitant of this fine place. The approaching form was unusually tall, and it seemed to be walking on just two legs. No one had ever seen a creature that could do that or even heard of one. Slowly, panic spread. What kind of thing was it, walking through the storm and in such a strange way?

A few tense seconds passed, and with each one, more of the strange newcomer became clear. Whatever it was, it was walking, as expected, on two legs. Two long appendages were hanging down from what seemed to be its shoulders and ended in something that resembled claws. The biggest part of its body was covered by a hooded cloak. At least it seemed to be smart enough not to remain uncovered.

Strangely enough, the rest of its body was covered in clothing as well. Its legs were inside a pair of blue pants which looked very used - holes everywhere and made of a cloth no one had ever seen before. On its back was a small brown backpack with apparently not much inside. It held in its claw something like a staff and leaned on it, perhaps because of exhaustion. Its steps were becoming increasingly audible, and it was becoming clearly visible for every habitant, moreover as it threw back its hood. This revealed a face no one had ever seen before. In the middle of its face, it seemed to have something that resembled nostrils, but they were separated by the mouth underneath. The eyes were small and beady looking, but still gave away their blue color for everyone close enough to see them. On its head, it had something one could call a mane. Long, brown, greasy hair hung down to both sides of its head.

The aforementioned head was now turned around to look at the staring habitants. No one said anything as they remained silent, mutely observing the interloper. It seemed to take the attention it had garnered with aloofness; indeed, it was accustomed to it and had learned to ignore it for the most part. Finally, it found what it was looking for and quickly went to the building to its right. They all cleared the way.

“Water! Thanks!” it shouted with a masculine voice and strong accent as one would expect from someone whose native language was not Equestrian. With a loud splash, he dunked his head into the dew pond. Since everyone still had their eyes on the stranger, which they now knew could speak and sounded male, no one paid attention to the small orange foal with a white mane that was walking behind him.

“Don’t mind him!” she called out to the still staring audience. “We kept a fine distance to the last waterhole since this gentleman here can’t even read a map.” With that, she pointed to her strange companion who was still busy emptying the dew pond.

When the foal started to drink as well, the tension started to loosen up, and most of the habitants continued their everyday work. For one, it was an ordinary occurrence to handle things like the sudden appearance of strangers. With one hoof, he brought the star on his chest into position and made sure his hat was still on his head before he slowly approached. Visitors in Broken Leylands were rare enough as it was, and the fact that one of them was an unknown creature didn’t improve the situation.

Step by step, he came closer, always on the watch in case of an attack. Since nothing happened besides the dew pond becoming emptier, he walked a little faster and stood beside it. He knocked on the wood. “Hello?”

A bit startled, the creature got up and stared into his eyes, first with surprise, then with... relief? His now soaked mane hung in his face and made it even harder to read his expression. “Are we in Equestria yet?” he asked, water dripping on his clothes.

“First off," the sheriff was a bit perplexed, partly because of how sudden the creature had gotten up, and partly by how excited he seemed to be, “not at all. This is Round Rock. Equestria is still two weeks away, at least walking by hoof.” He was ashamed to admit that he got scared when the stranger let out a terrible moan and threw his head back into the now nearly empty dew pond.

“Dammit,” he said with his mouth underwater, which made it sound a little bubbly. “Looks like I owe you a sundae,” he added and turned to the foal.

“All I’m saying,” the filly wiped her mouth with her leg before continuing to talk, “is that even a foal would know more about reading a map than you. Any moron could see that this can’t be Appleloosa yet.”

“Whatever.” The stranger got up by leaning on the dew pond and bringing his legs under his body again before he reached for the staff he had dropped into the dust. The sheriff wasn’t small, but his horn still just reached to what he would call the stranger's chest.

“Err...excuse me, stranger, but may I ask you some questions?" Although the newcomer seemed to be friendly, he still had to be sure. What relationship did he have with the foal, and what did they want in Equestria? It was the simply the natural curiosity of a sheriff. Both were looking at him, and the big guy just nodded. “Who or what are you?”

The creature had heard this question often enough in the past that he had developed a routine to answer it. “Well, my name is Lucky Luke, and I’m a brain sucker from outer space.” With that, he pointed one of his claws into the sky. When the sheriff’s eyes lowered again, he found the stranger unusually close to his face and he was... sniffing him. Instantly, he jumped back. “Don’t worry, you’re safe,” he said with a smirk.

“If you are here with foul intentions, I am going to have to ask you to hand over the foal and leave the city,” he threatened and got ready to use every spell he had ever learned, which wasn't much but surely enough to defeat his opponent. Said opponent just blinked a few times, and then pointed to his small companion with both his claws.

“But she’s my breakfast,” he said with a begging tone that almost triggered the sheriff’s pity, but just almost. He was almost ready to fire his first spell, his horn starting to glow, when the foal just pushed her companion away.

“Don’t mind him. He likes to joke around, and he can hardly be taken seriously.” She looked a bit embarrassed while she kept her companion down with her hind legs. She may have been small, but she knew how to handle him.

“Okay, then tell me, sweetie, who are you and what are you doing with such a strange guy?” He didn’t like to interrogate children, but today seemed to be one of those days that just didn't want to end quietly.

“I’m Aura and this here,” she kicked the creature, “is just my moron dad who doesn’t know when to shut his yapper.” The person in question now had a big smirk on his face while he seemed to make himself comfortable on the floor. How this was possible with his legs in that strange position wasn’t quite clear to the sheriff. “We’re on our way from Boardor to Equestria and might have lost our path a bit.” He couldn’t believe what the little foal, Aura, had just said. Boardor, the kingdom of boars, was way south in Albion. If it was true, those two had travelled through the tundra, which, without a proper team, was nearly impossible. There was a reason why it was among the seven deadliest places in the known world.

“My pleasure, Aura. I’m Dusk Star, sheriff of Round Rock.” Dusk looked up to her still sitting father as she had called him. He wondered what mare would... “And that’s really your dad?” She followed his eyes, and as soon as she turned around, the smirk on Lucky’s face disappeared as he pretended to watch the sky.

“Mmhm,” she hummed as an answer and nodded. “He's looked after me since we met, although it sometimes seems hard to believe.” Dusk analysed the sentence. There was no fear in it, just the voice of a loving daughter.

“So, can I rely on him not causing any trouble?” The question seemed to shake her confidence a bit, and she was now a little insecure.

“Uh, sure. Just show us the nearest hotel, and we’ll be done for today.” He could imagine quite well how exhausted they had to be after walking around in the storm. He pointed at the building they were standing in front of the whole time.

“This is the saloon. Since our town isn’t really big, it serves as a hotel as well. There are a few free rooms upstairs.” The foal nodded thankfully and started to pull and push her father towards the entrance. When they were through the door, Dusk noticed something. “Damn, they didn’t tell me what he really is.”

The room was small and dusty, but it was the best they could afford. The beds were always either too big or too small, depending on which of them you asked. The old yellow curtains had seen better times as they dimmed the already dark room even more. Next to the beds, each with a little nightstand, two small closets were the only furniture in the room. An open door led to a small bathroom with only the most necessary equipment. The little foal jumped on the bed at the window and laid down. “You can't even be serious for a single second, can you?"

The person in question had just placed down his staff and was busy getting rid of his backpack. “Can’t a man have a little fun?” he replied with exaggerated sadness. “It’s boring to always have to say, ‘Hey, I’m a human. You know, the creature from your horror stories, but I’m friendly. Oh, and the name’s Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins.’” The monotone voice he said it in made it more than clear that he did the routine way too often.

“But your name is not Bilbo,” Aura made clear and watched as her father hung the cloak in the closet.

“It is for now. Like I was 'Bananarama the monkey god' for the deer. The camels knew me as Indiana Jones, and the zebras knew me as Simba. And those were just my good ideas.” He fell on the bed and stretched his arms and legs which were hanging down from each side of the bed. He sighed. “I already despise ponies; their beds are way too small. The camels at least had futons big enough for me.” He thought back to the time they had travelled through the desert with the caravan to reach the zebras. Sure, at day it was terribly hot and terribly cold at night, but in the tent, it had been comfortable, and he had a bed fitting to his size.

“Does anyone, besides me, know your real name?” She brought the pillow in position, turned around a few times, and coiled up like dog. Her father thought that that was just adorable and watched her with a big smile.

“No, and you know why. As long as they’re after us, it is best for us not to tell anyone our names. You know that, which is why I wonder why you told the sheriff your name.” If she hadn’t been coiled up, he would have seen her rolling her eyes.

“He is the sheriff. He hardly will tell around who we are. Furthermore, Thiemo, your description is already enough for any pursuer.” He twitched when he heard his real name and shushed her.

“How often do I have to tell you? Call me Darkwing.” She rolled her eyes again, unseen.

“No, I won’t. You don’t even have wings,” she replied with a yawn and coiled up even more.

“What my foes don’t know.” He laid on his side and looked at the foal lying next to him. Since she didn’t give another reply except for a quiet snore, she had to be asleep. The perfect moment for him to care about more important issues, namely the saloon’s bar. Water was nice and fine, but after two weeks with nothing but sand and water, he needed something else. Silently, he got his feet on the floor. He opened his backpack and got a small, dark, cloth bag and tied it to his leather belt. It jingled a bit due to its contents, but not as much as he would prefer. Maybe he could even earn some here.

Carefully, he sneaked out of the room, which was actually easy due to the fact that he had feet and not hooves. Though he was wearing leather boots the zebras had made him, they weren’t nearly as loud as hooves on the wooden floor.

Quietly, he closed the door and went down the stairs leading straight into the saloon. It was one of those typical western clichés, but he saw those around every corner in this world. Stags who decorated their antlers with flowers and lived in the woods. Camels who travelled the desert as merchants, and zebras who knew shaman magic and only spoke in rhymed riddles. Yes, this world was one big cliché. Last but not least, there were the boars with Russian accents and the appropriate hat and mantle to fulfil the communist stereotype. At least they were out of the freezing cold.

When Thiemo went down the stairs, he looked around again. Although they were just at the bar to rent a room, he didn’t really pay attention. The bar itself was what anyone would expect. A long counter with a bored barkeeper behind it, who was busy polishing the technically already clean glasses, and a mirrored cupboard filled with every kind of liquor. The rest of the room was made up of five large tables which were already behind their prime. Some were missing a piece, some were carved on. The only source of light, aside from the dirty old chandelier hanging from the ceiling, was the openings underneath and on top of the entrance. The room itself smelled like the business in here, with a hint of tobacco, although Thiemo was sure that it didn’t exist here.

He reached the bar and leaned against it due to the lack of stools, and the counter itself was a bit too small, causing him to crouch down a bit. “What can I get you?” the old brown stallion asked and placed a glass in front of him. Thiemo’s eyes scanned the offer before he finally pointed at a white bottle.

“I’ll have vodka with apple, half’n’half.” Normally, he wasn’t a vodka drinker - he actually wasn’t a drinker at all - but everyone had their moments. There was still sand in every pore of his body, and he had sore muscles he didn’t even know he had. Since he knew that there wasn’t any medicine for him here, he welcomed the numbing effect of alcohol.

“Sorry pal, they are just decorative. Those bottles are all empty.” He tried to resist the urge to drop his head on the counter and failed miserably.

“What do you have then?” he asked without looking up.

“We have mead, cider, and uh...” He heard the barkeeper looking for something under the counter. “That’s it, actually. We are waiting for the train to bring new supplies.” Instantly, Thiemo’s head snapped up, and he reached over the counter to pull the barkeeper in front of him.

“Did you just say train?” The barkeeper was totally confused and just nodded heavily. This led to a manic smile on Thiemo’s face which scared the barkeeper even more. Suddenly, he released him, stepped back, and started what seemed to be a dance. “Yes! God damn it yes!" he shouted. While he was busy dancing and cursing, the old stallion corrected his mane and took a deep breath. When he saw his guest’s teeth, he thought that this was it for him.

After a minute of dancing, cursing, and other expressions he couldn’t really name, Thiemo calmed down and got back to the bar. “Excuse me, but that was the best news I've heard in a long time. Where exactly does this train go?”

“Here is end of the line. It runs back to Dodge City, after that, Appleloosa.” As soon as he finished his sentence, he could see the spark in his guest's eyes again. But he didn’t intend to pull him over the counter this time and reached for his purse instead.

He smashed his hand on the counter. “A bottle of cider.” He pulled back his hand, and two golden coins appeared. “Or the amount of cider I can get for this.” He smiled again, but this time, the barkeeper knew that his guest was just glad about the news of a train arriving. Thiemo knew the kind impression he made on the inhabitants of this world, and most of the time, he considered that. Every now and then, on the other hand, he shamelessly used it.

“This should be enough for one bottle, especially since they are a bit older. The last train arrived here a month ago.” He pulled out the bottle, opened it, and poured out the foamy brew.

“When exactly will the train arrive?” As soon as the glass was full, he grabbed it and emptied it in one gulp.

“One to three days, depends on the sandstorm.” With a deep sigh, placed put the glass down and refilled it himself.

“Then that's how long we'll stay. What will it cost?” Unfortunately, the conversation was ended at that point by the sound of the door. Both turned around to see who came in. But it wasn’t just one, but three creatures no one would have expected here: gryphons. Thiemo hated gryphons. Every encounter with those creatures had ended with him being hurt, robbed, or worse. Thus, he tried to avoid the contact. Sadly, they blocked the only exit, and there was still his filly upstairs, probably asleep. He swallowed down his escape-instinct and tried to ignore them.

But, as it often went in life, it didn’t work. The fact that he was an abnormality either attracted or repelled people. The bad thing was that it attracted the wrong, and repelled the right. He heard claws dragging over the wood as they approached the bar. One stepped up to his left, the other ones to his right, and from the corner of his eyes, he could see that they were up to no good. The two to his right were the typical gryphon: white head, brown body. While the head was feathered, the body from the neck down was covered in fur that only stopped at the claws on their forelegs. The last one was a bit different, but not by much, at least for Thiemo. He never really cared about anatomical details, so he just differentiated in colours and voices. With ponies, it was easier since they practically gave away who they were at the first sight. Anyway, the last one had dark grey fur with a few bright spots.

“Mead, the strongest you have,” the one on the left mumbled and smashed his claw on the counter, leaving an ugly dent. The barkeep instantly started to pull out one bottle after another, but apparently not fast enough for the gryphon, who grabbed the first bottle and knocked it down in one draw. Not that much was left. The first thing Thiemo learned about gryphons was that they usually just took what they wanted as long as no one claimed it. If it was claimed, the dispute was usually settled in a fight. Something he had to learn the hard way. “Watcha lookin’ at?”

That was the last thing he wanted, annoying poultry looking for trouble. He had already been involved in a lot of confrontations in the past, so he knew the difference between someone looking for trouble, and someone causing it. The latter applied to the gryphon on his left. “If those chicken wings aren’t for me, you should shut your beak.”

The gryphon was a bit surprised that his victim had the courage to talk back to him in presence of his companions, but that didn’t last long. “Did you just call us chickens?” His right claw tightened its grip around the bottle while the other one got ready to slice his throat.

“No, but since you feel obligated to—” Perhaps it wasn't only their fault that they didn’t like him. But only perhaps.

Author's Notes:

Update 04/17/14:
Special thanks to JBL for proofreading and editing.

Thanks bud /)