Lone MesaAppleloosa. A quaint, mostly quiet little town.
Finally, after nine months, you are back to see it again.
Knowing you no longer have a home here is hard on your soul, however. Returning is not the same as it was before. You did not come home, since there is nowhere to call home anymore. You came back to work.
The better part of last year was not easy on you and for you either. The 'rehabilitation' as the ponies in the capes called it was nothing but one hardship after the other. Your new 'leg' was nothing but pain and dissapointment at first. You didn't get your leg back like they promised, you got a clunky, heavy peg, you thought.
It does not suit a ranger to give up. You soldiered on, through pain, sweat and blood. By the end, you did not mind. You wanted to run every mile they told you to run, fought every fight they told you to fight. You excelled at every practice. You jumped like you couldn't before, you deflected knives with your new leg, you broke planks with your punches, but learned your limitations. One wrong move or skilled opponent can still turn your new limb against you.
A gust of wind brings you back to the present.
Appleloosa.
You are standing in front of the Sheriff's office.
The door of the cart that got you here slams shut behind you, the ranger in the reigns not even sparing you a glance before galloping off. He's got a job to do.
So do you… but who says you cannot meet up with some old friends before? After all, they are the ponies who will brief you anyway.