I'm a long way from Ponyville, that's for sure. Let me try to take this step by step, as to properly portray the scenario I have now been placed in.

First impression: It sucks.

This impression is garnered from the fact that there is nothing here. When Celestia used the term "settlement" when referring to Songring, I had imagined there would be a quaint little village or perhaps a camp set up to work with. No, instead the royal chauffeur I was given to my destination dropped me off on the shoreline of a body of water called The Light Waters: A small ocean, or perhaps a large sea, located within the border of Equestria. After climbing up a small, rocky, cliff face that separated the land from the beach, I saw nothing but a single, covered wagon and seven ponies sitting around chatting casually beneath the cloud-specked sky. Seven ponies all huddled around a single covered wagon, sitting in a freshwater marsh amongst noisy insects and trees whose limbs bent down in a weepy manner. That is Songring.

Second Impression: It's hit bottom and begun to dig.

Let me give some scope as to why this is a problem: As I have been informed, I am now working as a Development Coordinator for The Sun of Chance Royal Court. This means that I directly oversee the creation of settlements by offering guidance and structure as a designated official until the settlement reaches the point that it can stand on its own: With an elected mayor, and stable supplies of food, water, housing, protection, and income. This means that my job is most relatable to a manager or supervisor of new settlements. I did not think that meant from ground level; I assumed it would be more like expansion of an existing area. I was wrong, and this certainly makes me wonder exactly how long I'll have to be here on this assignment.

Third impression: I would have dressed in something cooler if I knew I was going to end up in hell.

When I approached the group sitting near the wagon, I was greeted with a mixture of hellos, howdys, nods, and I think at least one huff. Then came the stares. Yes, the drawn-out, silent, discomforting stares of seven ponies drilling holes through me with their eyes as they tried to figure out not only what I was doing here, but what I was, and better yet, what they thought of me.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Benjamen Prodder, and I am ,uhm... I am the Coordinator that has been assigned to assist you in your... your endeavor." My explanation hardly did anything to help mitigate the stares, so I struggled to continue. "I see that you all have begun with a meet-and-greet among your fellow settlers. I-I will leave you to this then. I will see about... I will see to... counting our supplies?"

The silence was broken for a moment by the clatter of a wooden clipboard being hoisted from the ground in a cardinal-colored pegasus' mouth and tossed at my feet, followed by her speaking aloud: "No need, Book-Smarts; it's already been taken care of." The silence fell back down around everyone as I stooped to pick the clipboard up, suffering the notion that I was not very welcome there at the time. The brutish pegasus folded her front legs in front of her as she sat up, huffing at me. "What's the matter? Didn't think bumpkins like us could even count? Is that why you're too shocked to say thanks? Typical Canterlot asshole."

She was indeed right about one thing: I was too shocked to speak. The cold shoulder I was receiving from most of these ponies was only marginally better than the blunt verbal aggression I was receiving from the pegasus, and quite unlike anything I had witnessed here in Equestria up to this point. Even Rainbow Dash, as tactless as she can be at times, was never vicious towards me like that. "Thank you, then," I responded compliantly, trying to regain my composure after the startling response, and took a quick glance over the stockpile listing I had been thrown. While reviewing the inventory, I was relieved to hear them return to their chatter. I could not, however, pay attention to exactly who was speaking.

"Uhm, Maple... maybe you should try being a little nicer to him? I-if you want to that is, if not, don’t get upset, I just thought... well, he is going to be the overseer."

"Overseer? If he or anypony else thinks he's going to lord that over us, then they can pucker up and kiss my plot. I'm not about to have some pushy blueblood putting the spurs in my sides."

"Yeah! You tell him! We don't need some stinkin' bookworm pushing us around. You and me, we'll show him what for if he tries any of his hoity-toity tricks on us, right Maple? Right?"

"Can it, Willy."

"It's okay, Teardrop, they won't listen to me either. Nopony listens to me. I don't think anypony even knows my name...."

"Sure we do, lad! We do. You're... you're Mumbles! Wait, no, Silver Lining! Aha, no, no, I know, I know! Your name must be... Drizzle!"

"C'mon y'old fool. If y'don't know, don't guess. Yer makin' an idiot of yerself."

"I do too know his name! I just... have momentarily had a lapse of memory is all. It'll come back to me. Just you wait and see!"

Realizing something must be inaccurate on the ledger, I finally spoke to try and get some clarification. "Excuse me. I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation again, but I notice here it states that you all have used approximately half of your wagon's capacity bringing thirty or so kegs of alcohol with you."

"Yeah, and...?" responded the cardinal pegasus.

"I don't see where you've listed the amount of water supply you brought with you," I noted.

"Now, now, my dear... whatever you are! I took those counts myself, and I must ask you: why would I have written down something we do not have?" This came from a notably pudgy, dark peach-colored pegasus whose toothy, dim smile evidenced mostly what might be lacking inside his head.

"... Please tell me you're joking,” I groaned, reaching up to put my thumb and forefinger to my temples in frustration already.

"I said we should bring root beer, but everypony just heard beer." A rather gloomy-looking, charcoal grey pony muttered that dejectedly as he looked at me, then immediately back to the dirt he shuffled underneath his hooves. "I knew I should have just been quiet after all." He spoke quite softly, and I barely even heard him over the protests of a skinny, chocolate-colored pony.

"Yeah, we brought some booze with us. So what? You gotta bone to pick about it, Baldy?"

"You didn't bring any clean water to drink, that's what I've got a problem with!" I clarified, as I recoiled following a shove from the pony after he placed his hooves against my shoulders and pushed me.

"That's what we've got the booze for, duh! Prudish Canterlot posh..."

"You can't survive only drinking liquor! You'll dehydrate yourself!"

"Oh, yeah, here we go, you and your book-smarts again. Your fancy schooling teach you that?" (Where have I heard that before?) "Is that in those books Celestia must read to you as she rocks you to sleep each night? Or are you just upset 'cause it's not some of the expensive baby formula you're used to? It's a drink for real stallions, so grow up!"

Before I raised my voice to say something regrettable in protest to the verbal abuse I was receiving from the wiry, scrappy pony named Willow, a broad, lilac-colored stallion stood up from the ground and pushed his face to Willow's threateningly. "Boy, you open them big ears of yers quick 'cause I'm only gonna tell you this once: Take a seat, shut yer craw, an' only open it next time ya got somethin' helpful ta add to this here conversation. You got that, colt?"

Willow let himself be pushed to the ground under the force of the large, lilac stallion's glower, becoming submissive and nodding as his voice quieted down. "Yes sir, Springfield."

Springfield pulled away from his imposing stance and took his seat once again next to the dark peach pegasus, nodding to me subtly. "You was sayin', Mr. Prodder? There's a problem wit' us not havin' water in our wagon?"

"Uh... yes, Springfield, it could present a rather large problem. That means there's nothing for you all to drink out here if that's the case."

"E-excuse me..." stuttered a small-framed, aqua blue pony as she stepped forward. "I know you might, uhm, might not have noticed, but there's a lot of water back where you came from. That big ocean over there has lots of water we can drink. I mean, if that's... if that's okay, I just thought it was water, so... So maybe..." She dropped off to silence, unable to find either the words or the conviction to finish her thought. What started out a bright smile, weakened into terrified glances towards me as she shuddered behind the larger stallions seated nearby.

"I'm sorry, but you can't drink that. That's seawater, and it’s just as bad, if not worse, than drinking the liquor."

"Why'ssat, Mr. Prodder?" asked Springfield.

"It's too salinated."

"What? Then you just tell me whose been spitting in the water, and I'll go give 'em what for. I'll give them a little reminder in keeping it to themselves!" That was once again from Willow, who happened to regain some of his fire with a bounding leap to his hooves.

"No, chap, no! Not salivated, Mr. Prodder said salinated. He means it's got a lot of salt in it,” corrected the peach-colored Pegasus, clearing his throat unnecessarily loud before I could continue.

"Exactly. Which means you all might as well pack up your things and head back home if that's the case, because there's no way to survive without some form of fresh water."

"Wow... You haven't even been here ten minutes, and already you're throwing in the towel. Yeah everypony, he's right: There's no way we're going to make it. Especially if our Overseer is prone to just up and quit on us the first time we hit a snag." Maple was the one speaking, as she finally unfolded her front legs and stood up to step into the wagon. "Well, I for one am not going to let a little oversight send me packing. I came here to make a settlement, and I damn well am going to see it through."

"I'm not just giving up because things are hard. Be reasonable: There's no fresh water and someone forgot to bring it with them on the wagon! You can't stay here and expect to survive. The reason I say to scrap this venture isn't because of the difficulty, it's because of the impossibility!"

"Then go ahead and quit, and good riddance to you too," Maple began once again, sticking her head out of the covered wagon after I had heard a cork from one of the kegs being removed. "Run back to Canterlot and go sleep in your fancy royal chambers, writing about how you met a bunch of idiots and knew they were doomed the moment you saw them." All of the ponies looked to me then with questioning stares, as though they were expecting me to give an answer to her prod. "We didn't ask for you to be here, Mr. Prodder, so what do we care if you just leave us here to fend for ourselves."

She really wasn't going to leave. She also was not going to listen to reason and heed my warnings of how there would be no way to survive without hydration of some sort. All of the ponies continued to stare, and each one held a different thought painted in their gaze; Ready to stand with Maple despite my decision. If I could put words to the looks I received, I might describe them as follows:

"We'll be better off without his kind anyways."
"Not much to expect from him."
"We'll make it, with or without him."
"He just doesn't understand..."
"I know he won't stay here for us..."
"Please don't leave us..."

"Fine then, Maple. What do you suggest?" I snapped sternly.

"Huh?"

"What do you suggest? If you're convinced to stay here, then it seems the only option is to fix the problem. What do you plan to do?"

"... I plan to tough it out and find a way,” she responded as her wings lazily drooped to her sides and her rump hit the dirt in a defiant sit.

"You plan to sit here until you die then. Maple, if you're going to condemn me for giving up, maybe you should first make sure you're not just being a suicidal twat."

I would be lying if I said that I wasn't intimidated when the pegasus marched up to me, after letting her mug hit the ground, and bending her head, pressed her forehead to mine (she stands a bit taller than me). The emerald hues of her gaze glared powerfully down into mine, her brows turned inwards displaying her irritation. "You want to repeat that?" she asked with a growl beneath her tone, teeth held tightly together.

"If you were too busy cultivating your preconceptions of me to pay attention, then sure: Maybe you should first make sure you're not just being a suicidal twat before condemning me for giving up,” I quipped, fighting down the quakes of fear that rose from the idea of the large mare turning violent.

"You've got a lot of nerve, Freak, for somepony that I could kick their scrawny little head off without even trying."

"That still wouldn't solve your problem. Come on now, Maple, answer the question: What do you plan to do about the water situation? Since I'm evidently just a quitter, it looks like the rest of your fellows here will be looking to you for an answer. You want to turn around, look them in the eyes, and tell them that they're going to die? Or do you have a better idea for them?"

To that question, Maple craned her vision back to the six other ponies watching us. The tension in the air welled to suffocating density as we teetered on the edge of a full-out brawl: I saw her legs tense as my own hands curled into tight fists. The tension unwound within a moment, however, as a deep sigh escaped Maple when she turned to look at me again. "... I need time to think. I'll find a way."

"Then let's find a way," I agreed with a nod, looking back to the others. "All of us that is. Come on now. If you're going to be staying here, then you've all got the same problem. Start thinking. Anyone have any ideas where we can get clean water from?"

"We're not going to come up with anything. I think he's right: We'd best just pack up and head home. I'm sure everypony will forgive us for making a mistake, or at worst they'll just be mad at us,” the charcoal pony stated aloud after an extended silence from the group.

"Sprinkles, come on now, chap. Buck up! Your pessimism isn't helping now, is it?" rebuked the pudgy pegasus.

"Sorry to rain on your parade then, Salmon. I'll be quiet now..."

"... Rain is a good idea," called the small azure pony, looking to the charcoal one with excitement building in her expression. "Is that okay, Mr. Prodder? Can we drink rain? It's not too salty, is it?"

"Hm, rainwater. Sounds viable. It will require us to wait for it to rain though before we can start collecting, and we'll need something to collect it in," I agreed.

"The kegs," stated Springfield, nodding towards the wagon. "They're plenty big enough to hold a supply in 'em, an' they're waterproof t'boot."

"Only problem is they're full of alcohol."

"Alright, Willy, come here. We'll get to work on emptying one of these kegs then. Grab a mug!" Maple shouted, causing Willow to perk up excitedly to join her.

"Alright, so we have a plan. What if it doesn't rain for a long time? Any other backup plans?"

From the group finally emerged the seventh pony, which up until now had remained hushed and still. She was the only unicorn among them, and I took notice of how uncommonly alluring she appeared among the other ponies here. The unicorn sported a coat of the same color as wisps of smoke rising from a lit cigarette, made imperfect only by some dense peppering of varying degrees of brown and black fur that speckled around her eyes, down her cheeks, and over the front of her neck until it ended in a point on her chest. As I was captivated by the sight and distracted with my admiration, she said nothing during her approach towards me: She simply sat down before me, watching my face quietly.

"Do you have an idea?" I asked, recovering from the shock of our first impression.

She nodded at me, raising a hoof off the ground and pointing away from the wagon towards something shifting far off. Closer examination revealed it to be a rabbit crouching next to a very small lake (I would say just a very large pond myself), head dipped down as it drank from the surface. When she saw me notice it, she nodded once again.

"You trust that the wildlife here could lead us to fresh water?"

Once again, just a silent nod.

"Aha! Good job, Lass! Wonderful plan! We'll make a map of where the little beasties get their water, and use it to sustain ourselves until the first rainfall! Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Now, Mr. Prodder, I will take the liberty of following the creatures and mapping the landscape and water sources. I may be a bit rusty, but I can still fly high enough to get a good view." Salmon dashed into the wagon quickly to retrieve some paper, and snatched the ledger clipboard away from me to use it as he began a wobbly takeoff in one of the sparse clearings nearby. "I shall be done within the hour, I promise you! No worries."

"Perhaps this can be done then," I muttered to myself, before being interrupted by a tug on my coat. It was the charcoal grey pony, his head held low as he began to speak quietly and avoided ever letting his gaze meet with mine.

"I know you're probably not interested in what I have to say, Mr. Prodder, but I think maybe you should take this chance to get to know each of the ponies here. If you're going to stay that is: You might be stuck with us for a long time if that's the case."

With that, I took his advice and requested that Maple and Willow move their keg out of the wagon, which I am now seated in with my notebook on a keg in front of me facing the entrance to the vehicle. I will begin calling in each of the ponies shortly to begin a small interview. Luckily I still have a few blank MIRRDs with me to record these interviews on to spare me the effort of memorizing names and faces first time around. Hopefully the recordings will be safe, but I will go ahead and transcribe the audio to paper after the interviews are over for backup. I will write here once again after the interviews are over and I have secured proper lodgings for these ponies and myself.

Fourth Impression: I don't like it, but it is possible. I can see why alcohol was made a priority when these ponies were choosing their expedition supplies. When life gives you lemons, make a whiskey sour.