I woke up this morning really invigorated, like I just wanna run a marathon. I went out for a morning fly (that is so cool) and I stayed out for a bit longer then I planned. When I came home, I was absolutely breathless, and the sheen that was in my coat yesterday had all but disappeared. Plus, it was only eight.

    I thought for a second, grabbed the next chapter from my story (along with a bundle from the fridge), and turned back out from the door. It was Saturday, and I had to turn in Chapter Two.

    When I reached the printer house, the only pony there was the one with the golden coat. I decided to greet him as amicably as possible, because the last time I met him, he didn't seem to be very friendly. "Hey, bro," I said, approaching him.

    He cocked his head. "Bro?"

    "It's short for brother," I said, trying not to laugh a the strange expression on his face. "It means friend."

    "Oh," he said, turning back to wiping down a knobbed wooden mechanism. Without turning back to me, he said, "Widget's not in yet."

     "I could tell," I said, pulling my paper out from under my wing. "Could you give this to him for me?"

    He looked at the paper for a second, then took it swiftly. "Sure."

    I scrutinized his face, and seeing no expression, I left.

    Next stop for today was the hospital. When I reached the room, I saw Fluttershy seated on Dashie's right. "You awake, Dashie?" I asked softly.

    "Yeah," came the reply. I walked over to her bedside, Fluttershy coming up silently behind me. She looked comfortable, but furious. Her limbs were relaxed a bit.

    "What's up, Dashie?" I asked, worried at what the answer might be. "Oh, wait, before you say anything: I brought you something." I held out the bundle that I had been carrying, and tried with difficulty to unwrap it using my mouth. "It's a burger," I said, smiling, "'cause I know what hospital food tastes like."

    She took it, almost hesitantly, but in a second, looked up to me and smiled. There was a cut above her left eyebrow. "Thanks, Daddy," she grinned, "you read my mind."

    I turned to Fluttershy. "Why isn't anyone else here?" I asked.

    She answered very quietly, and I could barely hear her. "They... um... I don't really know..." and her words drowned out as she turned away.

    'Just being Fluttershy?', thought, 'or something deeper?'

    I coughed. "Fluttershy, could you let Dashie and I have a second of privacy, please?" She obliged quickly, leaving the room like a shadow when the sun ducked behind a cloud. That means fast. I leaned down to Dashie. "I know you don't like Ditzy, so why have you been so nice about our relationship?" I moved a strand of her rainbow mane out of her rose eyes.

    She looked at me, and whispered back, "I don't control your life, Dad."

    I smiled, despite of myself, and kissed her forehead. "I love you, Dashie."

    I returned to the printer's on Sunday morning, to grab a copy of the Storywheel, the newspaper I had printed in. However, when I looked at the paper, I noticed the story on the front page where mine was supposed to go was not the one I had handed (hoofed?) to the golden stallion the other day.

    I took the stack of papers in my hooves, balancing them carefully, and walked into the door of the printing house. I set the stack of papers on the counter, and walked behind it to the printer room.

    "You!" I practically yelled to the golden pony, who was facing the printing press. "What have you done?"

    He turned, smug in appearance, and absent of oil or ink stains. "I don't know, 'bro', what did I do?"

    I snorted, pawing my hooves against the ground. I rose into the air with my wings, the tips of my ears pressed against the ceiling. "You shouldn't have wasted all those papers."

    "Wasted?" he snorted back, "I improved them."

    That was just insulting. I landed within an inch of his face, and being about an inch taller than him, I leaned him down. "Change it." I could see both fear and indignance in his eyes. "Now," I growled.

    He leaned forward once more. "Fine," he sniffed, still holding onto his dignity, "whatever you say."

    I didn't feel bad. He deserved what I gave him. I looked over the story once more as I was walking out, proud of myself for handling that so quickly and easily. I didn't like it, because even though it followed by storyline, it seemed to have become very grimdark. I shuddered. I hope no one had read it. I'd try to tell all the subscribers tomorrow.

    As I walked out, Mr. Widget walked in. "It's not my story." I said, and I knew Widget was a smart pony. He knew what I meant. I flew away just as the yelling had begun. Young, foolish mares have to learn.

    I may or may not apologize tomorrow, though; I didn't want to make enemies. Next Chapter: Chapter Fifteen - Company Estimated time remaining: 51 Minutes