Daring Do and The Letters From Her Publisher
by Grazy Polomare
First published
For years, the publishing company of A.K. Yearly has assumed they've been making profit off a work of fiction. So what happens when they find out it's all based on reality?
A.K. Yearly's epic continuation of Daring Do is coming up. While fans eagerly await the next installment of the series, Yearly's publishers eagerly anticipate the estimated profit.
So what happens when they find out everything was real?
Picture by Austiniousi
Chapter 1: Dear Ms. Yearling
From the Publisher’s Office of Books and Crannies
Dear Ms. Yearling,
As usual, we’ve wired last month’s sale to the address you’ve written down. Might I add that a tree should not be the place to leave your money in. Beside the point, we’re all eagerly awaiting your next copy of the Daring Do series.
Your Publisher,
Bezzle Mint
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From the Publisher’s Office of Books and Crannies
Dear Ms. Yearling,
As you know, deadlines are approaching fast and we’d really like to see an update in terms of when you think you’ll be done with the novel.
Now, we’re not about rushing talent, but it’s hard to send an editor when you don’t even give us a home address, let alone a letter of acknowledgement.
Anyway, the board is excited to publish another Daring Do book soon, as the holiday season starts rolling in. Would make a great gift for every little filly and colt in the kingdom if you know what I mean.
Your Publisher,
Bezzle the Great Mint. (Hey, maybe you should use that in one of your books.)
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From the Publisher’s Office of Books and Crannies
Dear Ms. Yearling,
Well, I must say that upon receiving your letter, I’m a tad disappointed. I don’t mean to insinuate that I’m angry or anything. Writer’s block is common. It happens to the best of us, right?
We’re just a little worried. I mean, a delay by two months isn’t something that the fans are going to be thrilled about.
However, your good friend Bezzle talked with the board today and I think they are willing to let it slide, provided of course you give us a more reasonable explanation. You’re an author though, so that should come naturally, right?
On a side note, the message you wrote was rather sloppy in comparison to previous letters you’ve sent us. Is everything okay? It would really be easier if we weren’t delivering these notes to some tree in the woods you know.
Your Concerned Publisher,
Bezzle the Worried Mint.
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From the Publisher’s Office of Books and Crannies
Dear Ms. Yearling,
We haven’t heard from you, and as you can guess, the board’s getting a little nervous.
We’ve been receiving complaints from some rather impatient fans of yours demanding the current status of your latest novel. I've stashed a few of them in this letter. Do read them please, as I think it’ll give you a better understanding of the time restraint we’re working in.
Perhaps you could buy an actual house in the city? Fillydelphia is a great place to live in. And real estate has never been better. I’m quite sure it’ll appeal to your fancy.
Your Real-Estate Agent,
Bezzle Mint aka The Land Plotter (I actually think that would work well in the story. Just something to keep in mind.)
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From the Publisher’s Office of Books and Crannies
Dear Ms. Yearling,
Well it came a little sooner then the time table you gave us, but no pony here is complaining. In fact, I must say I’m rather impressed with you. But you do have an amazing publisher, so don’t forget to throw in a little thank you when you reply back.
Can you believe the board was going to put out a rescue notice for you? Like…the Royal Guard searching for the elusive A.K. Yearling? Everypony here was casting lots on whether or not you’d actually publish the novel. Well if you ever visit, I’m now the proud owner of two free dinners at Wheat the Stallions.
Anyway, our artists received the designs for the new cover. I must ask if you were inspired by anypony in particular, because the cyan sidekick looks very familiar. I'm not going to go and point hooves, but do be careful you're not plagiarizing anything.
My offer from the last letter is still open too, if you’re curious. I wasn’t kidding when I said Fillydelphia is a great place to visit in the winter, even after the parasprite catastrophe.
On a side note, we already delivered that copy you requested in Ponyville, and followed your explicit instructions to only allow the post office to know the specific address. Although I must ask...are you seeing anypony? Not that it's my business or anything but we're friends, right?
Your Friendly Publisher,
Bezzle the Rich Mint.
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Due to recent Equestrian postage laws, this formal letter had to be revised for various reasons, and we have provided approximate definitions of the words we had to replace. We do apologize for the inconvenience, and would like to offer a free stamp with your next letter.
From the Publisher’s Office of Books and Crannies
Dear Ms. Yearling,
Normally, I’d be writing this letter to address a certain issue. Perhaps something in your grammar, plot, or otherwise rudimentary problem that could be fixed in a jiffy. However, I feel it’s important to set a tone for the letter. And I shall do that right about now.
ARE YOU (expressive gesture of disbelief) KIDDING ME!?
We’re your publishers for Celestia’s sake! Normally I don’t write back with such ferocity or vulgar language, but I must say that this is absolutely terrible.
No…not terrible. Horrible. Abominable. Disgusting. Revolting. I can go on and on. I have the thesaurus right next to me.
Before we delve any deeper, let me just understand this.
Everything in your books—from that blue feline to the legendary rings to the dark tower to the griffin conspiracy—was real?
Every last bit of it?
Now don’t go pleading ignorance. You know the only time we’ve talked was through those (?poorly written?) letters you send me each day.
Let me just tell you the gravity of this situation. Your books contain around—I don’t know—multiple counts of vigilante justice, trespassing, grave robbing, misconduct, and disregarding the Griffin Border Peace Act of 455? Did I mention grave robbing? And that’s just the top of this filthy cauldron of offenses...and potentially lawsuits.
To say I banged my head on the table would be an understatement. I recently recovered from a concussion thank you very much.
We published this (unfavorable) book under fiction. FICTION! Fiction is for things that don’t happen in real life, (a donkey stuck in a well)!
Do you know how much trouble we’re in?
Let me just set the scale here. There’s the other big name publishers, followed by independent authors and fan fic writers. Then we have 15 tons of (digestive waste or manure)…and then there’s us.
Yep. Fall from grace wouldn’t you say?
You know, I’m not much of an avid reader myself for the whole fantasy genre. I usually get somepony who works under me to review the (specific digestive wastes from a bull) you send in each day.
But for Celestia’s sake, the whole building is being turned inside out! I don't know, but several kingdoms are claiming you've withheld critical information pertaining to national artifacts.
I hope you hid well, cause the Griffin Embassy just trashed my office to find that stupid goblet from book two. And if my associates are correct, they’re only the first, followed by a zebra shipping tycoon, the Changeling Hive, and maybe a couple dragons here and there.
We’ve been receiving countless letters demanding us to share your address. Since the infamous A.K. Yearling lives off the grid, every “bad guy” you’ve ever messed with has decided we’re the sole party responsible. Not that it would matter since we would still have to uphold our privacy policy. Now that I’m on the subject, does that explain the multiple break-ins we’ve had to report in the last year or so?
And to think I excused all of this on your writer’s block. Can you believe I actually argued with the board—yeah the whole board—in order to convince them that your profit would make up for the delay? I even had the tenacity to laugh at them when you did deliver. Because you know, it's my flank when you send a request for more time.
I may not have read Daring Do and the Griffin’s Goblet, but so help me now, I think I might just give it a go. At least it’ll give me some sort of defense when I explain to the griffin ambassador that our company soccer trophy is not his precious relic .
On a side note, did you know some of your enemies actually follow the book series? I thought that was interesting.
If you’re wondering where the (in a very uncomfortable position) I got this information—or how anypony got this information for that matter—look no further than the stupid purple alicorn in your latest novel (I actually skim through the pages just to make sure the characters aren’t offensive).
Basically, the giddy filly and her six (companions having a good time) friends were the Elements of Harmony! Yeah, saviors of Equestria for three times…or was it four? Oh wait…I forgot that you live like a (minotaur expression of attraction) hermit.
Anyway, she or one of them—maybe all of them—started spreading the big secret that you’re actually retelling your own adventures in some third-person (when a minotaur eats too much Meximane cuisine) narrative.
Well brilliant job Ms. Yearling aka Daring (meddlesome) Do aka the End of My Career.
If you haven’t already figured it out by now, we’re canceling any and all future novels that have anything to deal with this (problematic) story. That’s right, Books and Crannies are pulling a hardball to stay afloat, and may Discord help us if we succeed.
Oh…and if I ever find your (not very liked) house…I’m going to burn it down with all the fires of Tartarus.
Your Former Publisher of the Newly (not doing too well)-Up Books and Crannies Inc.,
Bezzle-I’m-Losing-My-Temper-Mint
P.S. You can forget about my offer to come to Fillydelphia. I also used up the dinner coupons to get myself drunk twice, hoping I would wake up to come to the realization that it was all just a bad dream. I think I’m still recovering from my last hangover as I write this, but I’ll let you know when I get better.
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Daring Do re-read the letter again, her magenta eyes studying each detail. It was remarkable how so much hate and anger could be packaged in such a tiny letter.
Tossing the parchment in the roaring flames of the campfire, Daring began to wonder exactly what would become of her career. Perhaps writing her adventures had been a fun gig for a while. But after this latest reply, there wouldn’t be a publisher in the entire kingdom who’d touch her books.
“All because I decided to write non-fiction as fiction? It was for the good of my own fans for crying out loud!”
She wanted to inspire her readers to pursue their dreams. Not have them worry about whether or not the hero—and author—of their treasured series would survive her next brush with danger.
So she said a little white lie to the publisher. Every author was bound to do it anyway. Bezzle Mint was just acting like a spoiled tart. He was just like Azhuizotl or Dr. Caballeron. Greedy, ambitious, and rotten to the core.
“Who needs publishing companies anyway? All they've ever cared about was how much profit they could make off another struggling artist’s masterpiece.”
She examined the address listed on the torn envelope.
1010 Golden Oaks Brook
Fillydelphia, Equestria.
“Well not this time.” Daring Do grabbed her pith helmet from the fireplace. “Bezzle Mint, it’s time we have a little chat.”
Chapter 2: Daring Do and The Publisher's Dilemma
To the Publisher of Books and Crannies,
Dear Mr. Mint,
I may not know who you are in person. However, I’m quite certain I know what you want. If it’s money, I can tell you that my funds have dried up…just like your luck.
But—as you can very well assume—I have a particular set of skills. Skills that have made half-bred cretins like yourself run back to mommy faster than a filly going to the bathroom.
By the time you receive this letter, it will already be too late. I’ve taken it upon myself to make the journey to Fillydelphia.
I must say that it’s quite stunning for a place that’s covered in snow for a quarter of the year.
Anyway, all I have to say is this.
Bring it on.
Your Extremely-Pissed Off Client,
A.K. Yearling aka Daring-Don’t-Mess-With-Me-Do
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Fillydelphia was a collection of ornaments. With Hearth’s Warming Eve around the corner, the town spared no expense in covering everything with anything.
Tinsel was strewn about the rooftops while long wires of lights hung over the streets, twinkling like fireflies. While the main streets had been cleared for trotters, many of the side streets such as Golden Oaks Brook remained covered in snow.
Here and there, snowponies big and small dotted the sides of cozy shops and sleepy cafes. If the scene could be described, it would be hard for anypony to summarize it in one sentence.
The headquarters of Books and Crannies, however, could be described in one word.
Depressing. For holiday cheer had come just a tad too late for the once-major publisher.
A two story brick building with steel supports, the place already looked abandoned. Where there should have been Hearth Warming anecdotes, there were thick boards. Where there should have been merry snowponies greeting the occasional onlooker, there were disgruntled security guards snarling at any squirt caught wandering within thirty hoofsteps.
Ever since the news spread that A.K. Yearling’s books were actually non-fiction, the building had been flipped upside down.
Inside, it looked as if a hurricane swept through. Drawers were torn open. Several bookshelves were left overturned, the collection of signed novels that nopony bothered to read spread over the floor.
Blossomforth was busy picking up the scattered collection of said-novels, glancing over the titles with a disapproving eye. “Talent’s wasted on this generation.”
“Blossom.” A gruff voice called out.
She dropped the current book in her hooves, turning around to see a stallion trudge out of the office door. “Yes sir?”
Dark blue, with a snow-white mane and thin, wiry moustache, her boss looked every bit like the privileged executive. “Did I get any messages?”
She pulled out an envelope. “Just this one.”
He read the letter, his stern expression turning softer, before morphing into one of genuine fear.
“Something wrong, sir?” Blossomforth was restacking the pile of books on the office’s hoof-made mahogany table, one of the few mementos they were allowed to keep.
“Yeah. Umm…it appears there’s been an urgent meeting called to in Mustangia. Do you know when the next train arrives?”
“Certainly.” She pulled out a list of train schedules, leafing through the destinations. “Looks like you’re in luck. Next train leaves at 6 on the dot.”
“Excellent.” The stallion grabbed his briefcase. “I’ll be expecting a damage report on my desk by tomorrow. And um…did anyone come by recently?”
Blossomforth dropped the schedule with a scowl. “You mean other than the griffin enforcers who confiscated all our decorations and the company soccer trophy?”
He nodded meekly.
“No. As far as I’m concerned, no one has said anything, inquired anything, or coaxed anything out of me about your whereabouts, sir.”
Her boss seemed to tense up, as if that was the last answer he wanted to hear. “Very well. Thank you, Blossomforth.”
With a brief wave, her boss scurried out of the office, looking like a frightened rabbit who was about to be swept up by a hawk.
What’s up with him? Usually it’d be ‘Blossom, get me this!’, ‘Blossom, get me that!’, ‘Blossom did you send me the report yet?’ Blossom, why aren’t we making any bits, Blossom?
Blossomforth resumed the vain attempt to tidy up, her mind wandering off to whatever plans she had for the Hearths Warming Season.
Well, with my raise in shambles, I suppose I can kiss a vacation to the Isles goodbye. Maybe visit my friends in Ponyville? And get another case of the feather flu? Still, that gingerbread bakery…
There was a soft creak in the hallway, but Blossomforth continued to organize the shelf. More than likely, it was one of the guards trying to warm up.
“If you want some coffee, it’s been confiscated until the Griffin Embassy can determine it isn’t their sacred goblet.”
Maybe just stay here for the holidays? I could do a lot worse than Fillydelphia. And after that griffin raid, this day can’t get any worse.
“Actually, I was wondering about your publisher,” a cold voice whispered behind her shoulder.
Blossomforth froze, her eyes expanding to the size of saucers. For the love of—
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Trains: the bane of my existence. He tapped his hoof impatiently on the cold wooden plank.
“Excuse me,” he called out to the conductor, “how much longer till the train to Mustangia arrives?”
The colt gave a dismissive shrug. “Shouldn’t be too long, sir. There was some frost on the tracks.”
He bit his lip. Dagnabbit. If I don’t get out of this city soon, I’ll be a dead mare.
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How do you get yourself in these messes, Daring?
It wasn’t hard to find the building, which stood out like a sore claw in a stack of holiday cheer. After taking out the rather impolite guard, she slipped in through the doorway, only to find herself lost in an endless sea of cubicles and terrible motivational posters. Still, Daring Do wasn't a quitter, and she pushed forward with the high hopes of finding that selfish twit of a publisher.
Instead, she’d stumble upon some poor clerk stacking books.
And she’s the only one who can tell me where he is. Daring Do swore to herself that this would be the last time she jumped into a fortress with no plan in mind. For hayseed’s sake, she was living up to her name.
“You’re…you’re…” the pegasus stuttered, her body shaking as if she was looking at a ghost.
“Daring Do?” She tipped her pith helmet. “Are you really that shocked to see me after all that’s been going on?”
“I-I thought the character was based on the author! Not the author based on the character!”
Daring Do wondered if a disguise would have suited her better. “Do you know where Mr. Bezzle is?”
“Wh-who?” the clerk squeaked.
Daring growled. “I’m not going to ask twice. Tell me where Mr. Bezzle Mint is hiding or else.”
“Please!” The mare dropped on her knees. “I have a husband and three foals!”
Are you kidding me? She facehoofed herself. “Listen, lady. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Really?” She stood up, her tone growing aggressive. “Then would you care to explain how you got in here?”
“Um…” Daring smiled sheepishly. “Door was left ajar?”
The mare nodded. “Mhmm and I suppose the guards were dosing off on the job, too?”
“Those guys had it coming to them. Kinda like how you’re going to have it coming too if you keep this attitude up.” Daring gestured with her front hoof.
“Alright alright.” The employee held out her hooves in surrender. “I’m sorry, I get cranky under pressure is all.”
Daring relaxed a little bit. The mare might be sassy, but the sooner she talked, the sooner Daring could extract her vengeance on this two-bit criminal.
“It’s fine, um Ms.—”
“Blossomforth.”
“Blossomforth, just tell me where Mr. Mint is hiding and I’ll be out of your mane.”
“Well you see about that…” The clerk gave a nervous chuckle.
“Yes?”
“…he kinda left.”
“What!?” Daring grabbed Blossomforth by the shoulders, her face contorting into a scowl. “When? Where?”
Blossomforth gulped. “Mr. Mint is waiting for a train to Mustangia. Said it was real urgent.”
Mustangia? The coward’s trying to run already? “What’s the fastest way to the train station?”
“Just take a left on Avalanche Avenue, then turn right on Mirror Street. It should be just a few blocks down along Antagonist Lane.” Blossomforth paused. “Um, can you let me go?”
Daring Do released her grip on the pegasus. “I knew that letter would drive him off. Why I bet you that—”
BANG! The door flew off its hinges as a dark brown stallion trudged in, his grizzled beard covered in snowflakes.
“Who in Cerberus’ name are you?” Blossomforth demanded.
“Dr. Caballeron,” Daring Do answered, saying his name with the upmost disdain.
But Caballeron didn’t seem to notice her greeting, his hooves holding up a bright red book.
“THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!”
Upon closer inspection, Daring Do realized to her horror that it was Daring Do and the Razor of Dreams.
Uh-Oh
Dr. Cabelleron held the novel away from him like it was some grotesque spider. “How could you do this?”
“Caballeron, I can—”
“That’s Doctor Caballeron for you, Ms. Do! And was it not enough that after you defeated me, you had to write about it in some foal’s novel?”
“Talk about adding insult to injury,” Blossomforth muttered.
Daring, ignoring the comment, attempted a smile. “Dr. Caballeron, I know this is a lot to take in but—“
“Take in?” The archaeologist’s face had turned a deep crimson, as if he might explode at any second. “I come back from your little stunt in the valley and do you know the first thing I see?”
Blossomforth was backing away towards the door. “How about I fix all of us some hot chocolate—”
“This insulting piece of garbage occupying every window on the street!” He threw the novel at Daring, who dodged it just before it took out a cubicle wall. “My museum held me in questioning! Do you know how humiliated I was? Oh and don't get me started on the black market. Thanks to you, I'll be lucky to find work as a tour guide!”
“Listen, I didn’t intend to come out about all this being real but—“
“You wrote it did you not?” Dr. Caballeron narrowed his eyes. “Now are you going to keep coming up with excuses or are you going to fight me like a mare?”
Blossomforth looked back and forth between both archaeologists. “Is he serious?”
“No, he’s just going to chit-chat with us about his discrepancy with the novel.”
Caballeron scowled. “And speaking of novels, where’s the publisher who allowed this to be copied?”
Daring Do smirked. Looks like she wasn’t the only one on Bezzle Mint’s tail. “You’re too late, Caballeron, he’s on a train to Mustangia.”
Caballeron flashed a sly smile. “Hmmm, perhaps you should have done the same too, Ms. Do.”
CRASH!
All three ponies ducked underneath the mahogany table as an enormous, slender feline snaked its way down the ceiling. Rising up on all fours, Daring could see the infernal face of—
“Ahuizotl.” She spat the name like a spoiled tart. “What are you doing here?”
“Ah-ha!” Ahuizotl pulled out a bright red copy of Daring Do and the Ring of Destiny. “Daring Do! We meet yet again! But this time, I fight not for the power, but for revenge!”
“Ahuizotl, listen, I—“
“Lies!” Ahuizotl smashed one of the cubicles to bits, which was followed by a groan from Blossomforth. “You foil my plans! De-claw my henchmen! Even Mr. Fluffles, my latest recruit. But still, it is not enough that you must fool Ahuizotl, but that you must also chronicle it in-in…this!?”
He flung the copy at her with such force, she had to dodge the book before it made a hole in the plaster.
“Okay, I’ll admit it wasn’t the brightest idea at the time—“
“But it will be your last, Daring Do! For I, Ahuizotl, will use these books to track all the hidden treasures you have hidden around Equestria and use them for my own revenge! Aha ha ha!” His maniacal laughter echoed throughout the halls.
“Great,” Blossomforth grumbled, “first a furious archaeologist. Now a grudge-holding maniac bent on world domination and vandalism. Who’s next?”
CRASH! The sound of glass shattering caused everypony to turn their attention to three armored griffins, the head of the pack clad in a red cape and officer’s cap.
“Von Talon!” Daring Do narrowed her eyes at the overgrown bird. “Shouldn’t you be locked up at Falcon’s Peak?”
“Ah Ms. Do, I vas vondering ven you’d get here. Vee been…talking with your vittle friends at zee publishing office.”
“Wait a second!” Blossomforth pointed her hoof accusingly. “You’re not the griffin ambassador, but some crook from her novels?”
The snow white bird chuckled. “Precisely vittle one, but I’m…how should you say it…zee replacement ambassador. Zanks to Daring Do, I vas exiled from my empire. But now…they haf offered me zee chance to come back, profided of course zat I bring back zee Griffin’s Goblet.”
He flicked a talon in Daring’s direction. “Now hoof it ofer or I shall haf to use...more forceful means!”
“Not a chance, Von Talon!” Daring flared her wings menacingly. “The goblet’s too dangerous. The power will consume you and ruin the kingdom for ages to come!”
“Also, I want my company soccer trophy back you overgrown piece of poultry!” Blossomforth shouted, her eyes sending daggers to Von Talon. “You and your goons have no right to confiscate our Hearth’s Warming decorations!”
“I haf efry right to take your cheesy decorations! I may be exiled, but I am still zee official ambassador as stated in—“
Bang! The sound of wood splintering caused Blossomforth to wince.
“What now?” Daring Do moaned, turning around to find two jet-black changelings hobbling over what was once the back door.
“Daring Do,” the changeling hissed, “you’ve been a naughty mare this holiday season haven’t you? Oh where are my manners? My name is Commander Morpheus Bloom of her Royal Highness—“
“Yaddya yaddya!” Daring Do waved her hoof. “Let me guess, you’re here to get my autograph?”
“Actually…” Morpheus pulled out a faded red paperback. “If you could just sign this, it would save on a lot of time since you’ll be occupied with our Queen as soon as I present you to her—”
“Take her to your Queen?” Dr. Caballeron shook his head. “Daring Do has destroyed my honor. I must fight her one on one!”
Von Talon chuckled. “You and vat army?”
Dr. Caballeron raised a brow, as if Von Talon had just asked him if it was snowing. “I just said one on one you uncultured fool!”
“Vell it does not matter. She’s still mine!”
“I found her first!” Caballeron marched up to Von Talon, so that their eyes were locked in some sort of showdown. “She’s. Fighting. With. Me!”
“Ofer. My. Dead. Body.” Von Talon’s claw tentatively hovered over his scabbard.
Morpheus jumped on top of the table, a scroll in his hooves. “This is nonsense, the Changeling Hive has an official warrant declaring her arrest for crimes against the Queen!”
Ahuizotl snatched the paper from the changeling’s outstretched hooves, tossing it out the shattered window. “What warrant?”
Morpheus hissed. “You’re going to pay for that, hand-tails.”
Ahuizotl used his tail to tear a couple of pages from one of the notepads. “Consider my debts to you paid in interest.”
“You petty fools,” Caballeron chided, breaking his stare. “Concerned with materialistic items when you all fail to see the true victim here. Daring has stolen my pride! My honor! I must be avenged!”
Ahuizotl growled. “Your honor was lost long ago, traitor!”
“That was different. I-I was going to bring back reinforcements, Ahuizotl. It was all part of my—.”
“I read the book you fool!”
“Well the book is based on a true story, but it’s still labeled under fic—”
Ahuizotl unleashed a thunderous roar that raised Caballeron’s mane. Daring had to admit she liked the style. Kinda suited the uptight jerk.
“…perhaps it was a tad over exaggerated?”
As the quarrel continued, Daring Do was searching for any potential exit. Caballeron and Ahuizotl were blocking the door, with the griffins closing in from the broken window and the changelings taking them from the back. Even with all of them distracted, escape was impossible.
“Vell this vas a nice chat,” Von Talon motioned for his two guards to close in. “But Daring, you haf ogled yourself for the last time.”
“Um boss,” one of the guards chuckled. “Zat word you keep using, ogled, I don’t think you know vat it means.”
Von Talon snarled. “Imbecile! Of course I know vat it means!”
“Actually,” Calballeron pulled out a dictionary, flipping through the pages. “It means to stare. Like I ogled you in a stare down.”
“Like Tartarus you stared me down. And zat is ze vong definition. Zit is clearly inconfeiable.”
“You mean inconceivable?”
Von Talon gave him an icy stare. “Are you making vun of my accent?”
Dr. Caballeron shrugged. “Why the thought would be inconceivable. Or is it ogled?”
“Grrr,” Von Talon growled, “Stahp making fun of me! I vill kill you vit ze bear claws!”
Dr. Caballeron raised his hooves in a fighting stance. “Then let us duel!”
“Can’t we all just share her?” Blossomforth offered, her back against the bookshelf.
Daring didn't know what was worse. Being stuck in a dungeon with snakes slithering around her neck. Or having to stay in this room for ten more seconds. Looking at the bookshelf, she wondered if there were enough novels to keep her occupied for...
Wait a second. A lightbulb popped in Daring’s head.
“Actually Von Talon, I think you might be right.”
“What?” Dr. Caballeron and Blossom shouted simultaneously.
Von Talon merely gave a smug smile. “ Zee? I told you I vas right! Show me zee proof.”
“Ms. Do,” Blossomforth whispered, “what the colt’s hill are you doing? Your arch-nemesis may not know how to open a door, but he knows his vocabulary. You won't find anything there either. It's chalk full of saucy novels and cheesy sob stories.”
“Oh I’m sure we can work something out.” Daring winked, leaning over the bookshelf.
“Vich one is the dictionary?” Von Talon squinted his eyes to read the thin text. “Hmm… I don’t zee it.”
“Then maybe you should look harder!” Daring Do tipped the shelf over, burying the bewildered griffin under a pile of romance novels.
Blossomforth leapt out of the way, rolling under the table.
“Stop right there criminal scum!” One of the guards pulled out his sword.
Daring jumped forward, slipping through the window as she spread her wings in flight.
“GET HER!” Ahuizotl cried out.
Morpheus held out his book. “Wait! I still need your autograph!”
Ignoring the various curses—both real and figurative—her enemies threw at her, she took off into the cold. The night wind bristled her fur, and the setting sun made it difficult to point out any structures.
“Daring! Daring Do!”
Turning around, she saw Blossomforth not far behind. What did she want now?
“What do you want, Blossom?” Daring pumped her wings harder.
“Slow down!”
“And what?” She swiveled her head, flashing a scowl. “You wanna—“
BANG! Crack! There was a sharp pain to her right, as if somepony had poured searing hot lard over her wing.
Though as graceful as she'd been in flight, Daring Do now looked like a squashed bug slowly sliding down a brick wall.
“I was…going to tell you…watch out for clock tower.” Blossomforth paused, catching her breath.
Raising her head, Daring could see the large, iron arms of the clock. As always, time had been her worst enemy. Attempting to stand up, she felt a piercing sting in her wing, causing her to roll over into the snow.
“You need some help over there?” Blossomforth landed. “That wing of yours looks broken.”
“I don’t need help,” Daring tried to flap her wing, flinching as it sent a wave of pain.
“Let me see,” Blossomforth took the wing in her hooves. “Needs some ice on it. It’s not broken, but you won’t be able to fly anytime soon.”
“Yeah well…why do you care?” Daring began to rub some snow on the area. It burned like Tartarus, but she soon felt the pain begin to numb.
“I don’t know, you’ve clearly demonstrated adequate knowledge to navigate this city’s skyline.” Blossomforth pointed to the clock. “And if you’re still intent on taking out my boss, it’s 5:45.”
“Well, you’ve done enough.” Daring stood up.
“Done enough? Do you have any idea how much you've done? Listen here missy, thanks to you, all those goons you left behind aren't going to stop until our whole company goes up in flames. As much as I'd like to drop your flank and run for it, I'd probably wouldn't even make it to the next block. So whether we like it or not, we need to team up.”
Daring Do wanted to shove this mare in the clock tower, but she had a point. If anything, Daring could now be held responsible for the damage done. And if Bezzle's letter had any merit, it was the fact that being a wanted fugitive didn't leave you many places to hide in. “Fine, what do you suggest we do?”
“First things first, we need to backtrack to Avalanche Avenue. And if you haven’t noticed, your dear friend Caballeron has some personal vendetta against you.”
“I’ve noticed,” Daring growled. Looking around she was unable to find any crates or suitable cover. The only thing this place seemed to have was snow.
Snow.
Daring smiled. “And I think I have a plan.”
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“Excuse me.” The stallion tapped the conductor on the shoulder. “The train, please?”
“Sorry sir, she should be arriving any second now.”
“Sure.” That’s what you said last time, idiot.
He could wait a few more minutes, but if that train didn’t come soon…well…it was best not to think about that.
“Greetings sir!” A deep, gruff voice announced cheerfully.
“GAH!” Of all the beasts he had the displeasure of seeing, it had to be a minotaur. Clad in a red ski hat with a mistletoe dangling from his nose ring, the beast looked like some Hearth's Warming reindeer on skooma.
“Can I help you?”
“YES!” He bellowed, causing him to flinch. “My name is Iron Will. And I’ve been caroling door to door promoting my new program. Holiday season is coming, and with it holiday stress. With Iron Will’s new anger management seminar, you’ll not only enjoy the holidays, but show them whose boss! Make the holidays rue the day they thought they could mess with you! And just for this holiday season, everything is 3% off till supplies last!”
“Umm…yeah…not interested.”
Iron Will frowned. “Don’t you wanna hear Iron Will’s carol?”
“Not really.”
The minotaur narrowed his eyes. “Iron Will will sing anyway.”
He pulled out a sheet of music, clearing his throat before beginning. “Tis the season, to show fury, fa-la-la, la-la, BOOM! Make your enemies cry like sissies, fa-la-la, la-la, BOOM! Satisfaction, for your penny, fa-la-la, la-la, la-la-la! Great results, with my training Fa-la-la, la-la, please tip!”
He tipped the red hat, which was filled to the brim with golden bits. “Don’t disrespect the hat now…or I’ll make you respect the hat. Lessons come with an additional servicing fee."
Of all the days I decided not to get drunk.
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Where did she go? Dr. Caballeron stepped outside into the frigid cold, shivering as a gust of wind whistled through his legs. The sign ahead read ‘Avalanche Avenue’.
This cold is unbearable. To think I could stand the frozen tundra of the Crystal Mountains. Fillydelphia is a hundred times worse!
Scanning the deserted street, the only thing he saw was some poor foal's excuse for a snowpony. On the floor, however, he noticed a tan pith helmet. Pathetic, the archaeologist would jump into a searing fire pot to save this totem. But throw her in Fillydelphia, and she leaves it like yesterday's newspaper .
“Show yourself Daring Do!” He shouted, picking up the helmet. “Or will you play the coward yet again?”
The amorphous snowpony was barely discernible to any known shape, but, stretching his imagination, Caballeron could almost see Daring Do. Snickering to himself, he waltzed over.
“Well Ms. Do—” He fitted the helmet over the head “—do you have anything to say before I duel you?”
Suddenly, a tan hoof shot out, punching him right in the gut.
“Oaf!” Dr. Caballeron fell on his knees.
Like something out of a horror show, Daring Do burst through the snowpony. Caballeron had no time to block before she landed a quick uppercut to his chin. After that, everything became fuzzy.
Caballeron’s last thoughts before blacking out were the faces of his peers, pointing and laughing at him like some illiterate donkey stuck in a well.
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Daring Do had never been a fan of the cold. Still, desperate times had called for desperate measures. Hiding in that snowpony felt like an eternity. But the look of pure horror on Dr. Caballeron’s face had made it all worthwhile.
“Looks like you need to chill out.” Daring grinned over the unconscious stallion. She may have hated cheesy one-liners, but they had their purpose every now and then.
Dragging his body over to the side of the road, she took off her pith helmet to brush some snow off her mane. “Thanks for my hat.”
“Blossomforth?” She had told the clerk to hide until the coast was clear, something that Blossom was more then happy to do under the circumstances. Don’t tell me that pegasus turned chicken and bumped into a griffin.
“Over here!” Blossom waved from a nearby alleyway. “This ought to be a shortcut!”
Checking her backside to make sure the coast was clear, Daring tip-hoofed her way towards the narrow crevice of an entrance. She found Blossomforth sitting on a barrel of fruit cakes. “I thought you were a goner there.”
“Yeah well…no thanks to you…” Daring Do gave an involuntary shiver. Gosh that was colder than I thought.
“Pardon?” Blossomforth held her ear out, a green sheen flashing momentarily over her eye.
Daring Do froze. "Oh shoot..."
‘Blossom’ vanished in a pillar of green flame, replaced by a sickly, insect-like equine.
Before the changeling could react however, Daring pinned him against the wall.
“Where’s Blossomforth?” She demanded.
“Probably trying to get as far away from here as possible,” a buzzing, high-pitched voice answered from behind
Daring felt an electric shock run down her body. Her hooves began to numb as her body became as stiff as a statue. Unable to move, she fell with a dull thump.
Morpheus was grinning down at her, his horn glowing a bright green. “Wow this spell really does work! Though not instantaneously, so kind of a rip-off.”
Daring attempted to swing a punch at him, but her hoof refused to budge. He must have me in some sort of paralysis spell!
“Tsk. Tsk.” Morpheus sighed. “And to think you almost got away from me. Once I bring you to the hive, you can sign all my copies…starting with…wait a second.”
He began to fish around his saddlebag. “Don’t tell me I left it back at the office!”
“You didn’t!”
Landing right behind the Morpheus, Blossomforth raised the red paperback like a mace, swinging it right onto his cranium. The changeling's eyes rolled over before collapsing with a dull thud.
Immediately, Daring felt her hooves again. Wasting no time, she bucked the other changeling in the thorax, eliciting a gurgled moan as the drone toppled over.
Blossomforth dropped the book over the comatose commander. “Consider it signed.”
Stumbling to her hooves, Daring gave Blossomforth a quizzical stare. “Sweet Celestia, how can you ponies live in this weather?”
“You get used to it, honey—“ Blossom paused, going into a harsh fit of coughing “—even if your immune system doesn’t.”
“How far from the train station?” Daring didn't know how much time she'd wasted.
“Hmm…since we're on Mirror Street, we should just follow the road across to Antagonist Lane and we’ll be there shortly.”
Daring Do nodded. “Hey…um…thanks for um…being my guide to Filly and whatnot. I know hunting your boss isn’t exactly the most appealing incentive—“
“Incentive? This is pure revenge. The guy was a jerk anyway.“
She laughed. “That makes two.”
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“All Aboard!” The conductor called out.
Thank Celestia! Running for the door, the first thing he was greeted by was the pleasant heat as it warmed his sodden coat and top hat. Sometimes, it paid to have wealth. At least...during the winter it was.
Taking a seat by the window, he rested his legs comfortably over the aisle, taking out the letter to read one more time.
Whew…and to almost think I was going to get it.
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They could see the train now. Already, the last few passengers were boarding, the conductor doing his routine checks before clearing the train to go.
“There he is!” Blossomforth pointed at a dark blue stallion making his way in the first car. “The one with the moustache!”
Bezzle Mint vanished in the influx of ponies pouring into the train.
“Darn it!” Daring saw the locomotive start to move, slowly but steadily gaining speed.
By the time they reached the platform, the train was moving down the track, leaving the two pegasi breathless in the cold.
“He got away!” Daring Do stomped her hoof in frustration. “I hate it when they get away.”
“We can still make it!” Blossomforth offered optimistically. “With this ice covering the tracks, the trains will be taking it easy. If we run, we can—“
The roof was split apart to reveal Ahuizotl, his wicked yellow eyes regarding them with pure malice.
“Ah-ha! Daring Do, your name should have been Daring Doom!”
“Ahuizotl!” Daring narrowed her eyes.
Her arch-nemesis began to cackle. “Why find treasure when you can have revenge? By the time I’m done you’re going to wish Daring Do was just fiction.”
She had to wonder why her arch nemesis always destroyed something before making an entrance. It never helped her write any decent scene for him.
“Over my snowballs!” Blossomforth lobbed an icy ball of frost into his snout.
Ahuizotl halted his gait for a moment, regarding the mare with a raise brow. “Was that supposed to defeat me?”
WHOOSH! An avalanche of white cascaded down the roof. Within seconds, where Ahuizotl stood was now just a pile of snow and wood.
Daring Do’s jaw dropped to the floor. “How did you...”
Blossomforth shrugged. “We have a rule here. Disrupt the snow, and it’s gonna flow. That blue furball was asking for it the moment he came crashing down the roof.”
Daring Do chuckled. “Not half bad for a clerk.”
“ARGGGHH!” Ahuizotl burst through the ice like lava erupting from a volcano. “I’ll get you Daring Do. You will—“
“STOP RIGHT THERE!” A gruff voice shouted.
All three of them turned to see a minotaur scrambling down the platform, a mistletoe dangling from his nose ring.
“Who dare interrupt, Ahuizotl?” He growled menacingly
The minotaur halted to a stop. “Iron Will's the name! Caroling's the game! And must I say, you’re the perfect actress for Iron Will’s reindeer display!”
Ahuizotl's scowl dissolved into a frown. “What?”
“Iron Will’s Caroling Services require certain actors and actresses to dress up as little reindeer. And you’re a natural, Miss!”
Ahuizotl’s yellow eyes burned with indignation. “How dare you call me a miss you inbred rhino!”
“Excellent exposition of anger! I love you already!” Snatching Ahuizotl’s tail, he began to drag the bewildered feline away.
“Wait! Stop This!” Ahuizotl attempted to wrench himself free, but to no avail.
“We’re gonna need to work on your voice, though. You’ll love the gang. We call ourselves the Goat Teens.”
“No! Stop! Daring Do! I will find you! I WILL FIND yooooooooouuuuuu!” The two vanished around the corner, Ahuizotl’s voice fading away.
Whether it was the fact that Ahuizotl had been bested by a bovine or that said bovine thought Ahuizotl was a 'she', Daring didn't know. Unable to come to a logical conclusion, she turned to Blossomforth. “I'm out of answers, you got anything, Blossomforth?”
Blossomforth shook her head. “Nada.”
Turning back, they could barely see the engine anymore, just a little dot in the distance. If they had a chance before, it would be impossible to make it now in this weather.
Daring sighed.“Well…another day, another dungeon as I’d say.”
“What do you mean?” Blossomforth tilted her head.
“He got away…there’s no way we can—”
“You can flap that other wing can’t you?”
“What?” Daring shook her head. “Blossom, I’m not some pile of books, you’d—“
“What happened to the Daring Do I knew?” Blossom scolded. “In book two, you caught up to Von Talon’s airship with your wings restrained to cinder blocks!”
“That was different—”
“Is it?” Blossomforth grabbed Daring’s hoof, heaving the explorer over her back. Daring had to admit that while the fur was covered with frost, it felt surprisingly soft. On top of that, it also radiated with warmth from within, which began to reduce the ice crystals to little droplets of water.
“Just…flap your wings…okay?” Blossomforth grunted, her own wings fluttering like some anemic butterfly. Sluggishly at first, she began to lift herself up. Then, as she headed down the tracks, she began to make speed, the train growing bigger and bigger by the second.
I can’t believe it. Blossom was actually carrying her. At first, the pain in Daring's right wing prevented her from even thinking about moving. But now, gritting her teeth, Daring Do tentatively began to flap. And after a few more flaps, she could barely tell if there was still pain there.
The train was only a couple few feet away. Sweat dripping down Blossomforth’s snout, the pegasus only pushed harder, straining under the increase body weight.
“Get…off…” She groaned, flashing Daring a grin. Daring felt a tinge of regret for having to disembark, but she knew she was too old to have piggybacks anymore.
With one last jolt of her wings, Daring Do soared over the tracks, colliding with the gingerbread roof. Latching on with both her hooves, she looked up to see Blossomforth trailing behind.
“Thanks!” Daring tipped her pith helmet. “Thanks for everything!”
“Anytime! Just give him a good beating…” The fog engulfed Blossomforth, muffling her voice as the wind whistled against the train.
I won’t forget this. Daring Do slipped below to the passenger cards. Mr. Bezzle, here’s Daring!
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What’s going on out there? The stallion eyes were fixated on the window. Earlier, he had heard a loud thud, and thought he’d seen a shadow in the snow. But now…all was silent.
Clang! A cold gust of wind blew some of the nearby candles out as a mare entered the compartment.
With that pith helmet, he wondered if she’d been dropped here from a safari. Nonetheless, he kept his distance. Perhaps by staying still, she wouldn’t smell the fear emanating from his body.
Moving down the aisles, she began to scan the crowds. She didn't pay much heed after passing them, brushing some snow off here and there. Upon coming across him, however, she stopped.
Uh-Oh
The conductor was now approaching her, a frown on his face. “Excuse me ma’dam, but do you have your—“
She threw the conductor to the side, which elicited a series of gasps from the audience.
Before he could rise out of his seat, she had him pinned against the wall, her magenta eyes burning with flames.
Luna have mercy on me.
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“Well…well…well,” Daring Do smiled. “A pleasure to meet you at last, sir.”
“Wh-what do you wa-want from me?” Bezzle Mint stuttered.
Was this guy clueless? “Did you really think I’d read that letter and just let it go?"
“I mean—”
“Shut it!” She slammed her hoof against the wall. The publisher looked like a little minnow, writhing in her hooves for mercy. And of course she would give none. Not after those letters.
I’ll be doing the world a favor by beating the pulp out of this dirtbag. For me. For Blossomforth. Heck, even to a lesser degree for all the fans who thought I was some unicorn in Canterlot.
“If it’s money you want, I have a fund in Trottingham—“
“I don’t want your money!” Daring snarled. “You think you can just insult the Great Daring Do? I’ve fought griffins, changelings, dragons, zebras, and even an Ursa Major! Nopony insults me, especially not some lowly business prick called Bezzle Mint!”
“Bezzle Mint?” The stallion raised a brow. “I’m Indigo Bill! And I’m not a publisher either! I work for the board!” He pulled out a cheap plastic ID. “See?”
“What?” Daring snatched the card, reading the name ‘Indigo Bill’ in bright red letters. “But-but the train to Mustangia. The letter—“
“My bosses sent me an urgent notice to go back to Mustangia as soon as possible.” He paused. “Something I would have noticed the night before had I not decided to drown my sorrows out in cider.”
“I don’t get it…you were in Fillydelphia."
“I always come to Fillydelphia!” Indigo facehoofed himself. “I visit this Luna-forsaken cesspit every time something goes wrong! And thanks to you, the griffin ambassador trashed my office as a result!”
“So let me get this straight.” Daring Do let go of Indigo. “You’re not Bezzle Mint?”
“Bezzle Mint?” Indigo Bill seemed to stifle a giggle. “Who’d have a name as ridiculous as Bezzle Mint? Sounds like embezzlement.”
I don’t get it. Blossomforth told me…
She froze, the realization hitting her like a freight train. “That clever—!”
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Daring Do sped down the hallways of Books and Crannies, passing the overturned furniture and craters on the floor where Ahuizotl must have gone bananas. She pushed her way past doors and trampled over discarded newspapers.
“Blossomforth!” she bellowed. That two-timing crook had taken her for granted, toying with her trust until she found just the right moment to slip away.
Daring Do marched up the second floor, where she had first come upon the deceitful mare.
Only now, however, she found Von Talon bound and gagged. Daring followed his eyes to a tiny white piece of paper on the mahogany table.
“What’s this?”
“Mhmmm!” The griffin wriggled in his chair
“Shut it, Von Talon.” Daring Do snatched the note. It wasn’t sealed, and had been hastily written.
Never the less, she began to read.
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Dear Ms. Do (Since that is your real name),
By the time you get this letter, I will have been long gone.
As you can probably guess, Bezzle Mint isn’t a stallion…but a mare, specifically yours truly. (What a plot twist right? I was saving it for one of your books but you forced my hoof on that one)
Anyway, Bezzle Mint was a pen name I used to address authors incase one of them—such as yourself—ever decided they weren’t particularly satisfied with my criticism. And come to think of it, probably wasn't a good choice either. Kinda sounds like embezzlement, which is something I'd totally not do. (Or would I?)
Now I know you’re probably going to call me a dirty scoundrel, lying horse, and possibly a…well…nah…no use in trying the patience of the Equestrian Postal Service. You get the point.
When I saw you, it was like watching Batmare crawl out of a comic book page. I didn’t receive the letter till this morning. Still, I wasn’t expecting to see…well…the character we’ve been printing on our books since you signed the contract by mail.
I’ve never read Daring Do, but that was just…creepy. Alright, maybe it sounds weird but I mean it. No wonder you live like a hermit. One mistake and you’d be swarmed by fans like a beehive.
So, getting back to the point—seeing as you could show up at any moment—I lied to save my own skin. I don’t have three foals or a husband. I’ve actually only skimmed through book two, mostly to answer that Talon fella’s questions. And I used my boss as a scapegoat to escape Fillydelphia with my wings intact.
I mean…any sensible publisher would have run, right? But then again, I guess a sensible publisher wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.
Did you know I actually had a subpoena to deliver to you? Well...really just some official order to appear at the Princess' blah blah at blah blah blah. I had a lot of written warrants to bring you in. But if I'd even bring up that subject during our meeting, you'd probably have shoved that legal paper up my plot. And seeing what you did to that poor changeling, I'm glad I didn't.
I'll admit I was a little harsh in my last letter. None of us make perfect choices. Mine cause me to lose my temper (and arguably sanity). Yours have a habit of dumping crap on others who—admittedly—should have seen it coming.
But I mean when you chug down three maregeritas, crying about your career to some airhead colt at 2 am, you're bound to do something rather naive, right? So yeah I thought of all the nasty things I could pack into one message and sent it on its merry way. Although, I’m quite surprised the Royal Guard didn’t book my flank for that comment about the Princess. Guess I’m lucky.
Other than a few scant vacations, I’ve never really lived abroad.
I was planning on visiting the Isles. But then your little stunt took away all our bonuses, so that went up in flames. And after today, I’m probably going to be out of a job too.
Nonetheless, it’s kinda exciting to have a fresh start. Especially being chased by a fictional hero turned real. I mean, how many guys get the chance to say they fooled Daring Do? Caballeron's chilling out. That changeling fan of yours got a personal signature. Ahui-what's-his-name is out caroling with a minotaur. And Von Talon got tied up at the office.
I think I'd make a great character in your stories. Probably casted off as a villain, but still a great nemesis nonetheless.
Speaking of stories, I’m actually taking a few Daring Do novels with me for the trip. I don’t read a lot of fiction, other than a few Batmare comics in my flat, but I think I’ll give this a go. Especially since it’s now all supposedly real.
I don’t know. You’re not the easiest mare to talk to. Certainly have a few social issues here and there (Hey, nopony liked me either, but I still tried you know).
I will admit that seeing you in action, however, was by far one of the most exciting things that’s ever happened in my life. Really, I’ve never been able to use my snowball trick or cheesy one-liners in such an epic battle before!
And for that, I thank you.
You’re still an aggravating tick in my rear, but at least you’re a badass tick in my rear.
And who knows. In a different time and place, I may still be able to give you a tour of Fillydelphia. I’d teach you how to throw a real snowball. We could devour some famous Fillydelphian fruit cake. You’d teach me how to take out an oversized cat in one sitting. Then, just to finish off the night, we’d get drunk at Wheat the Stallions, complaining about our lives to patrons who are too drunk or too dumb to understand.
It may not be an adventure, but you do owe me one, Daring Do. I saved your skin from a fan-ling (would you call a changeling fan that?) and carried your heavy bottom all the way to a moving train. And I'm not going to lie, I felt pretty epic afterwards.
Anyway, I suppose your new nemesis ought to leave some sort of catch phrase or something. Um...catch me if you can?
Your Former—But Still Alive—Publisher/Nemesis,
Awesome Blossom (I’m telling you I can come up with some really good names for your OC’s. Just letting you know.)
P.S. Oh and before I forget, I'm still sticking by the promise to burn your house down. You really need to get out more, and since the secret's out, why not buy a home in the city? Maybe not Fillydelphia but I've heard Ponyville is pretty cool too. Just something to think about.
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Daring re-read the letter again, just to make sure she heard it right.
“Mhmmm mhmmm! MHHHHMMM!” Von Talon shook the seat violently.
Daring ignored him, shredding the note into a million pieces. That two-bit thug was only a hoove's touch away. She'd been so close. And during that whole ordeal, Blossomforth knew. She played Daring Do like a pawn, leading her all around the city on a wild goose chase.
So why did it feel genuine? Blossom had come back for her when she fell in that changeling trap. But that was probably because she wanted to save her own skin. Blossom took out Ahuizotl, especially when she could have fled. Maybe she just panicked. That was possible, right? But Blossomforth had carried her all the way to the train. Why would any backstabbing criminal risk...well...her back...just to help their arch-nemesis?
And what about Blossom's letters? Had it really been that foolish to lie to her publishers? Looking around the office—with its torn desks, decimated cubicles, and smashed tables—she wondered if perhaps there was a point.
In the end, Daring was left with more questions than answers. But one thing was for certain.
“Don’t worry Blossomforth.” Daring blew the pieces of parchment out the window. “I’ll find you yet.”
And she took off into the night, trudging through the snow under Luna’s starry sky, ready for yet another adventure and clash with danger.
And this time…it would be published under non-fiction.
Author's Notes:
Okay guys, wow. Did not expect this story to get as many likes as it did. Nonetheless, I am delighted to know you all like this story.
A quick Q/A:
Does this mean the story's going to continue?
Well...not exactly. If anyone would like to source it back here, it's open for fan interpretation as to what happens.
Why Blossomforth?
Why not?
What if I'm not satisfied?
You will always be satisfied. If not, Iron Will's Caroling Services need new recruits.
So there you have it. Oh and before I forget, a little ending song for our heroes...and villains.