Tin was old now, his once lustrous auburn coat now a dull hue of its former sheen. His once parted and coif blonde mane now rived with grey hairs. Tin was exhausted, his body decaying, and still, he sat, rocking slowly in his chair. He sighed wistfully to himself, remembering his childhood innocence. He once looked at the world with a foal-like curiosity, eager to discover its secrets, wishing to find out what the world contained.
"To be young again..." He mused to himself, exhaling a long and exasperated breath.
Tin's rocking ceased as he closed his weary eyes, remembering back once more to his early years.
-0o0o0o0-
It was a bright day, and the small auburn earth pony foal shared the same spirits. Tin looked out of the dark room, his room, and the room shared with all of the other abandoned foals. He stared upon the sun, gracefully cresting the mountaintop, its orange hues mixing wonderfully with the light blue sky. At this age he did not realize what this was, as he was just now coming into the consciousness of a small foal. His curiosity for the ball of light did not last, however, and he turned, looking upon his surroundings, the world, and the light with an eager curiosity.
The small foal turned, now noticing the bars surrounding him. Tin was in a crib, surrounded by white oak bars. His brow creased and he whined, already irritated by this obstacle preventing him from his sought exploration. The foal grew angry at the bars, furious that his adventure would be stopped. He thrashed at one of the bars with his forehoof, earning himself a small nick in the wood, along with a painful splinter.
Tin winced, tears brimming his eyes while he tore his hoof away and toward his muzzle. He pouted, looking upon the offending white piece of wood. He quickly regained determination, eager to seek the mystery behind the dreadful bars, and bared his gums onto the splinter. Tearing his mouth away, the splinter dislodged. He spat it onto the sheets beneath him, along with a small trickle of blood.
The blood entranced Tin, not sure of what it was, but then, he felt the pain. His hoof hurt, it stung, it burned, and the red liquid dripping from where the splinter had once been did not do much to alleviate his worry. He placed his small hoof into his muzzle, wishing to rid himself of the red liquid, believing it to be the source of his pain. The liquid tasted…odd, and Tin coughed, croaking weakly as a light dribble of the liquid left his mouth.
Soon enough though, it was gone. The liquid seemed to be gone along with the pain. Tin smiled smugly, seeing himself as the victor, and clopped his hooves together in triumph. He winced once more and shook his head, parting his hooves and remembering his hoof injury. The foal's long set frown faded as he tilted his head toward the unopened cage before him.
Tin looked at the nick, examining it with intent. He turned around, aiming his rear hooves at the nick. He kicked with all force his small hooves could muster, leaving a gash in the bar. He managed to avoid splinters this time, causing him to silently cheer. Tin steadied himself, kicking back with his hooves several time until a satisfying CRACK was heard. He turned back, looking to the bar and discovered that it was broken at the point of impact.
Tin pushed the upper half forward, allowing himself to squeeze through the bars, and fall unceremoniously onto the floor in a heap. Thankfully, the ground was soft, not unlike the sheets in his crib. He rubbed at his head with his hoof, clearing away a dizzy feeling. He shakily stood, sore from the fall, and looked around the room.
The room was massive, at least in the small colt's perception, spanning a wide and long area. There were several other cribs along the room similar, if not the same, to his. He could still see the ball of light, the window high above his crib. Looking further around the room he could see odd shaped baubles. He trotted toward one; it looked like a small version of him, a pony.
Tin poked the toy, flinching as a high-pitched squeak was emitted from the pony. He tilted his head, looking towards it curiously. He poked it once again. Squeak! He grinned, thoroughly enjoying the toy, and took it into his muzzle. He sat up with the toy in his mouth, looking further around the room and seeing a large white door. He trotted towards the door, the faux pony squeaking with each step, and nudged it open with his nose.
A dark expanse greeted him, dimly lit with flickering candles set upon desks in the hall. He was hesitant, taking another step out the door, but the squeak of the toy, his toy, reassured him. He continued forward, passing the lit candles and several closed doors. Soon he came to stairs. He frowned, he had never seen these angled steps, and was unsure how to handle them.
A reluctant hoof met the first step down, soon followed by another. He took his time, brow furrowing in concentration as he descended the steps. Within minutes he had reached the final step, but overstepped. He fell to the ground, his toy falling from his muzzle, accompanied by a reactive whimper. He closed his eyes, remembering the fall onto the ground from his crib, but this floor was not soft.
The next thing he heard was a loud and wheezing squeak. He slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the light once more. He looked toward the ground and his muzzle came into contact with his toy. He hopped up excitedly, realizing what had cushioned his fall and took his toy into his maw. His gums clamped, eliciting another squeak from the toy and he smiled through a full mouth.
The room before him was not as dark as the previous hallway; it had several windows, light shining brightly through them. Tin walked forward, glancing around the room. The room had a hard wood floor with several chairs along the walls. A door was in between a pair of chairs, but shut tight. He did not bother with it; instead, Tin turned himself to the center of the room.
In the center there was a worn rug, looking aged and decrepit. There were pictures on the walls, pictures of ponies much larger than Tin. The pony in the picture had a white coat and a long lustrous silver mane. The pony in the picture had a subdued and calming smile, looking forward with serene cerise eyes. Beneath the picture read the pony's name. He quirked his head, squinting at the squiggly lines beneath each picture, but had no idea what the lines meant.
His reverie was broken upon hearing a creak. Turning around, he saw a larger pony before him. The pony, looking back to the picture on the wall, matched the picture almost identically. The door was now fully ajar, the pony in its stead looking to Tin in confusion.
The pony's voice was quiet and feminine, "How did you find yourself here, little one?" She asked, more to herself, not expecting an answer.
Tin blinked, trying to process the sounds he heard, but he was unable to discover their meaning. The mare started towards him, and Tin reeled back, unsure of the new pony. He bit down on his toy, finding the squeak to comfort him. The mare smiled to this action, the smile warmed Tin. He didn't know why, but the mare comforted him, as did his toy. He stopped backpedaling, instead moving closer to the mare.
The mare reached forward with one of her hooves, picking the foal up and cradling him. Her fur was soft, and Tin liked this feeling. He snuggled closer in her grasp, still not letting go of his precious toy. He closed his eyes, content with being held, and drifted off.
Tin's eyes quickly bolted open, the soft fur pressed against him now gone. He looked around frantically, and he realized he was in a crib, a new crib, missing the broken bar. Looking up he saw her again, smiling down upon him. He dropped his toy, whimpering toward her. She reached down with a hoof, patting down on his mane.
"Hush, little one. It is time to sleep." She cooed, gently brushing back his mane.
Tin sat back onto his haunches, frowning and not willing to end his exploration. The mare chuckled, looking upon Tin with adoration. Soon enough, the brushing had Tin feeling drowsy. He lied onto his back, trying to fight off the lull of sleep.
The mare opened her mouth, soft notes of soothing song escaping her muzzle and reaching the ears of Tin.
"Sleep, my foal, and peace attend thee,
All through the night;
Dream, my foal, and Luna will free thee,
All through the night;
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,
I my loving vigil keeping,
All through the night."
Tin was fast asleep, clutching to his toy. A small smile tugged at his lips, for he was not alone tonight.