There stood a great bridge that connected the island to the mainland, a marvel of the age, a suspension creation that Handy had yet to meet the like of in this world. It was constructed of cold iron, great blocks of stone and granite, sweat and tears, transporting the workers of the city from their places of toil to their places of rest and play on the island that housed the city. The fools probably did not understand what a wonder they had created. That ponies were capable of such things was amazing in itself. The same train that so utilised the bridge cut through the city itself, all the way to the port and harbour where its goods were loaded and unloaded for the bustling port. It was so much larger than that of the city he left, and much busier too, winter be damned.