The stallion gained his consciousness. He looked around, confused and dazed. Unsure if he was awake or simply in a dream. He tried to clamber to his legs but realised he didn’t have the body he was supposed to have. The stallion got to his hooves eventually.

He awoke on the side of a dirt road, nothing around in site other than the dirt road leading straight in both directions, and a dense line of trees everywhere else. He decided to follow the dirt road in a direction. He had no clue as to where he was, or even who he was, nonetheless he continued, still under the belief that he was in a mere dream...

As he travelled along the path he could smell something. It smelled faintly of damp, burned wood. He followed the road and the smell became stronger until he could see a small, lone cottage house to the side of the road, just about visible past the dense trees. As he got closer, it became very apparent that no one lived there, as the house had been burned down, the flames long since extinguished.

Curiosity got the best of the stallion, not knowing what he might find. He searched high and low inside the house. After a while, he finished checking every room. “What a waste of time” he thought, as he made his way out of the last bedroom of the destroyed cottage. The stallion tripped on something, black and charred around the edges. As he tripped over the object, it made metallic twang sound, A very familiar sound to this stallion. To the stallion’s surprise, it was a genuine acoustic guitar!... Quite beaten up, old and singed, and now with a freshly hoof shaped crack in the side, but she could still sing.

The stallion fled the building, taking with him the just-serviceable musical instrument. Slinged across his back with the stiff, charred strap. Continuing up the dirt road. He eventually arrived at a place called Trottingham. There he met others like himself, “ponies”. Soon realising this wasn’t a dream, the stallion spent many weeks living on the streets, playing his instrument for tips as a living, He learned many things quickly about this world, once he learned he could actually use horn on his head to play the guitar for him, he started making a lot more money in tips. The stallion started going by the name Six String and earning a small reputation and fame for his musical skill.

One day, whilst Six Strings did his usual musical performance, as he watched his small cup slowly fill up with bits. A disheveled old nag trotted by the crowd, Six thought nothing of it but she stood in awe staring at his guitar, but not in the way he would hope… “You burned down my husband’s house!” She yelled, as Six strummed a final harsh and interrupted riff of his guitar. Six Strings stood in surprise, But before he could even utter a word to defend himself, the old had ran away as fast as she could, yelling for the guards.

In fear of being jailed for arson and possibly murder for something he didn’t do. Six Strings began to hastily pack up his guitar and cash, then booked it. He sprinted all the way to the docks. There was only one boat left, just about to set sail. In a rushed panic, he payed the sailor all he could with the cup of bits he had made for the day. To take him to a place called “Outer Hayven”...