It may seem like there is good and there is evil in our world at this time. Many will tell you it is so, my dear sister included. Believe me, that could not be further from the truth. The lines are more blurred than they first seem. A heart of darkness can still deliver a kiss to their foal, just as a shining knight might slay the same foal in fear of what they may become.

Entry 010 – The Seven Day Rule (Part One)

Daddy?

Mole had said Daddy.

She had believed that the metamorphic green smog, which had taken the form of a middle-aged stallion with a beard and a short-brimmed fedora in our carriage, was her father.

Did that make him some kind of spirit of the parent she had lost? Had I been looking at an actual ghost who had come back to the physical realm to check in on his daughter? Was that what the Minstrels were?

Molasses Candy had greeted him like he’d come back from a short trip, not from a long sleep beneath the daisies, or at least what passed for daisies these days. She wasn’t the only one either, for when I looked over from the placid phantom to the other glittering specks across the city, I was seeing the same thing on the ground and the walkways. Ponies were greeting one or several of these apparitions and did not seem shocked or startled by their familiar shapes.

They lit up the rest of the stable with their biohazard glow filling the streets. I am certain I saw the entire city thanks to the bright light filling the lanes between the pastel ponies. It was partially reassuring to know that the stable did have ends and didn’t stretch on forever.

There were only two ponies that I could see down below screaming out and trying to scramble away from the shapeshifting creatures, something I was wishing I was able to do if I wasn’t trapped in a cage nearly scraping the ceiling of the Stable. They were members of my party, I could tell from the mane-styles, and they were as unused to seeing ponies appear from thin air in front of them as I was. One was stopped quite swiftly by the nearby ponies whilst the other instantly disappeared out of sight.

As I raised my eyes back to the supposed “Mr. Candy,” I gulped, wondering what the proper greeting was to a horse that was supposed to have popped his horseshoes years ago. I never got a chance to try any acknowledgment, as the hidden orchestra reached the song’s cue, the specter opened his mouth. His maw was colored the same shade as the rest of his body, right down to a leaf green tongue, but what came out of it was a clear, deep and warm male singing voice.

The daughter’s voice and the voices of the hundreds, maybe thousands of ponies in the Stable joined the father and his supernatural choir in melodic harmony. The song, jazzy and hopeful, filled the huge cavern with ease.

“We’ll meet again someday,
So don’t you go a’getting blue.
Don’t know when, and I don’t know where, but I know,
Every road will lead me back to you.”

The song. It was my Pa’s old song.

For a moment I completely forgot that this old tune was coming from strange, floating creatures amongst unnervingly cheerful ponies miles below the surface, and was transported back to a better place, during an easier time.

“Tell my old pals back home,
I was singing this song out loud!”

When my Pa had us singing that song, he’d always make us yell that bit as loud as we possibly could. Usually it was just me and him, occasionally my sister joined in although she was often far too grumpy and proper to sing the full song. Mom didn’t sing, even if she was there. She was rarely there. I wish she’d never been there...

The song brought memories of being perched on my Pa’s lap by the hearth in the Winter and by an outdoor campfire in the Summer. Often, I was sloshed by my Pa’s beer as he bounced to the music, yet I didn’t mind that. I got my taste for alcohol from him and I don’t mind that. Any taste of bitter ale or spicy whiskey brought back the comforting memories of my family, before things changed...

I reawakened from my trip down the lanes of my old life and realized that I had been joining in with the rest of the Stable under my breath. I stopped for a moment to look at Molasses and smiled weakly at her.

She was dancing and jiggling, causing the carriage to rock once more whilst singing at the top of her voice. She was more naïve and optimistic than I had ever been as a chick, but she still reminded me of a time when I was easily this excitable. I realized how swiftly my life had gone into full tilt not long after that and it was like a cord twanging in my chest. Thankfully, the disappointment wasn’t to last.

Something changed in the long-eared mare’s demeanor. A note of odd concern washed over her face, which was followed by her turning and jabbing at the lyrics on her PipBuck for my sake. I wasn’t immediately certain why until I saw something different out of the corner of my eye.

As I glanced back up to Mr. Candy, I found him now staring back at me with his nearly featureless face. Not only that, I could see his original shade of green was turning murkier. It was transforming entirely into a bloody red. The indented circles where his eyes would have been seemed to be reading my soul. I was fearful that he was going to tell Mole everything about me. Did he know who I really was, what I’d really done? Who I had killed to get here?

I was doomed.

Mole’s pushes became more insistent.

“Sing! Sing! You gotta sing!” She demanded urgently between verses.

Now, I am not a good singer. I appreciate good music and I listen, but I am not able to string a perfect set of notes together if my life depends on it. Unfortunately, at this moment, I was certain my life depended on it, so with a worried wail I complied. I sang loudly with my harsh set of undisciplined lungs, hoping it might drown out anything dangerous the scarlet pony would want to say next.

Yet, he did not speak. Instead, he continued to sing the same song with us whilst watching me curiously.

“And when I finally come home,
We will party from dusk ‘til dawn,
And will sing this bright song,
With all of our hearts.”

As I let my vocal chords butcher the song, Mr. Candy seemed to calm. The red shimmer that created his body slowly dimmed and switched until it was returning to its healthy grassy green. Suddenly he seemed friendly again, all because I had opened my beak to follow along, and that felt far more sinister to me than my former concerns. I now had no idea what would happen to me if I didn’t join in with the song.

My mind was overflowing with questions and I increasingly fluffed a line or twenty, even sang the wrong verse at one point. I expected this watcher to notice and get angry with me, but he, “it”, didn’t. It did not seem to mind what I sang, so long as I was singing something.

I didn’t realize that the big wheel we’d been sat on was still moving until I took another look through the colorful wire grid surrounding the cage. Briefly I realized I’d chosen a pink passenger car and wondered again what was happening to me in this stable. More importantly, however, I could see the expressions of the ponies now. I could see the love they were bestowing on the singing minstrels, and knew they were all taking forms recognized by these stable dwellers. Nopony from the stable was running or screaming or freaking out because they all believed these were the souls of their friends and family. Right now, I was having a hard time disbelieving that myself.

“So, don’t cry.
Don’t sigh.
Smile.
And make others smile too…”

I caught sight of a glowing scarlet out of the corner of my eye as the song grew close to closing and immediately spun my head to look for it. Another Minstrel was showing somepony the red light for not singing, but this time the red was flashing insistently. I could see other ponies pushing and shoving some stallion to encourage him to sing, and for a moment forgot to do so myself. Black coat, brown mane, twigs for a Cutiemark...

It was Brittle Sticks! The stallion who I had dragged from the body of his flattened sister. The stallion Crusty had said had gone missing. His cheeks were streaked, it looked like he had been crying. He turned his head as other ponies shook him from left to right, and his eyes met mine. There was still grief in his eyes and something else, something that looked like shock or even horror…

“Crow, sing! Sing, sing, sing!” Mole squeaked, and I hurriedly did so before our own Minstrel could get upset with us again. When I turned my head back around, both Sticks and his angry phantasm were gone. Not even the Dwellers who had been trying to convince him to join them appeared to be aware of where he’d gone, each looking in a different angle for him as the song was wrapping up.

“And when I finally come home,
We will party from dawn til’ dusk,
And will sing this bright song with all of our hearts,
Celestia’s road will bring me back to you, babe~”

On the harmonious ending, the stallion and all the other translucent serenading things took a graceful bow and smiled at us peacefully. Mole seized this opportunity to pounce forward and hug her Pa, although she nearly sank straight through him. Wisps of what now seemed like dust particles moved out the way for her, before reforming as the gentlecolt. She sighed contentedly, with her brown nose nuzzling into his very being. He did not move, show any extra feeling other than a passive smile nor did he embrace the filly calling him her dad. To me, it was like staring at a statue above an old and overgrown grave, they only difference was that this one had a pleasant singing voice.

“I love you, Daddy.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth, did the stallion’s physique begin to break up once more. This time it begun at the tips of his ears and erased him downwards, fixing the mistake in reality like an error on a sheet of parchment. Molasses stayed with him until the last bit trickled upwards to join the squirming cloud in the metal sky.

Watching it drift away reminded me of Rose Garden, being obliterated into a leafy cinder pile by the gun wielded by Procrustean. I wondered if the ghost of that mare was out there, most likely cursing my name over and over in a red rage rather than sing with the rest of them.

Once the glowing rain had reversed into the massive squall, it returned to its own source. Green lanes transported back with a long, quiet whoosh into the pores of the great grey obelisk, whilst the dancer mare on her perch standing to attention, facing the pretend sun hanging in the solid heavens. She stretched out a foreleg, and a voice left her mouth. The mega-amplified voice, not of a mare, but of Overlook, the Overstallion.

“Well done everypony! That was another successful Minstrel song and thanks to your efforts, our power levels have increased beyond the ordinary capacity with only nine red lights. That’s an improvement on the fifteen red lights last week, you should all give yourselves a round of applause to celebrate!”

Everypony was stomping their hooves in delight as we exited the car, or rather Mole bounced out in glee with a delighted hoof pump to the air whilst I stumbled onto the metal walkway, my legs forgetting how to walk during the hellish ride to the ceiling and back.

“It is great to see that our latest guests have integrated themselves so easily into our lives and are not afraid to raise their voices with us to help keep our Stable running smoothly. If you see a member of Stable fifty-four who you have not had chance to say hello to yet, please be sure to do so.” At this point, the Overstallion’s speech took a more serious tone.

“I know that some of you are asking how strangers came to enter through the gate that never opens, and I would like to assure you that it was not a decision taken lightly.

“As I previously advised during our last stable address, we received a distress message from a PipBuck technician who goes by the name of Elmwood. We held lengthy conversations with him and after some time, he was able to confirm that he was not only a representative of Stable-Tec, but that he knew of other Stable Dwellers who had been forced from their home by a group of foul ponies called raiders. These are ponies who do not know how to handle the beauty of Equestria’s bountiful new gardens, and therefore create mischief and mayhem for the ponies who go about their days peacefully.

“Now, I need not tell you that these raiders were very few in number, and did not spoil the beautiful, green, safe world above that we shall all one day ascend to…”

“What?” I squawked a little too loudly.

“Shh, Captain~!” Mole, who had previously been humming the tune we’d all sung, instantly waved a hoof around my beak as ponies turned to look at me.

“But that’s the biggest load of shitty rotten eggs I’ve ever heard,” I told her. She hugged a foreleg over my mouth and for the second time I saw her look frightened. This time, however, it was because of what was coming out of my mouth rather than what wasn’t. I did as I was told and kept listening to Overlook’s statuette speaker spew what I knew to be misinformed statements to the stable dwellers.

“I am reliably informed that the pathway out from the gate that never opens was destroyed by the raiders before they could be arrested by our loyal guardians. I am sorry to lose such a valuable exit, but once again we are safe in the knowledge that we will all ascend to the Gardens of Equestria when our time is right.

“Which brings me to my most important point. As most of you are aware, we are seven days from the next ascension selection. That means that everypony great and small must be making sure they enter a Music Hall within the allotted time frame and sing the song that means the most to them.

“I must ask that those ponies who have been asked to sponsor our new residents from Stable Fifty-Four ensure they are fully briefed on why it is so important to perform and want to ascend to the next great new lands of Equestria. We do not want another accident like that which befell our beloved Rara.” I noted the falling heads and closed eyes, even soft sighs that suggested this Rara was somepony the congregation had revered. Even Mole took a moment between looking alarmed at me to look forlorn on the subject. I wondered whether she had let a Minstrel turn completely red on her and reflected on what awful thing had happened next.

“Finally, I would like you all to join me in the Stable Prayer to the Princesses.”

Princesses. That was interesting, they still called them Princesses, not Goddesses. I guessed it was the difference between hiding from the balefires and barely living once the fires subsided.

My FunBuck vibrated, and this time Bucky was there to help me with the words to the prayer. I joined the hoard of mindless zombies chanting, some more patriotically than others.

The creed ended with the thunderous stomping of hooves, the braying of trumpets, and the last call of Overlook from the statue.

“May Celestia and Luna watch over you all.”

After that, life returned to normal. Ponies began moving, chatting, enjoying their extra-large rabbit warren. The statue creaked into it's normal stone balancing position and the pillar sank towards the floor, becoming an average fountain with normal water swirling around it once more.

My PipBuck vibrated against my leg once again and I looked down at it curiously.

Below that, a timer began. Six days, eleven hours, fifty-eight minutes and forty-seven seconds. Forty-six. Forty-five. Forty-four...

I turned to Mole, who was still looking nervous after my rant during the middle of the Overstallion’s sermon. With my leg outstretched to her, I gave her a firm nod.

“You’re up, sponsor. Tell me this isn’t a bomb that’s going to blow us all to smithereens if I don’t sing you all a pretty damn song.”

As we began to aimlessly amble around the theme park of doom, Mole gave her best attempt to explain the Seven Day rule.

Twice.

The first time was too fast to possibly comprehend and so I made her say it again, slower and calmer. The second time was a little easier to understand.

“Every pony sings at the music halls, Captain. You can choose which one and which song and when, but it must be done within the next seven days. I usually like to do mine nice and early and pick a nice, happy, smiley song that everypony can enjoy and other ponies come and watch but whether you get into the next round is decided by the judges. And if you win all the rounds then you get to ascend which means that you get to go back outside, where… where…” She faltered.

“Where it’s all rainbows and gumdrops and the grass is greener?” I enquired sarcastically at first, but then noticed the worry on the little mare’s face.

“Did you mean it, Captain? Is it really that bad outside?” Came her small, timid voice. I sighed lightly and stopped flapping, landing neatly beside her.

“It’s… hard to explain. But it’s not what Overlook was describing. Not by a long shot.” Mole’s dopey ears flopped, and she glanced at the floor.

“Well, maybe there’s a nice bit, and that’s the bit that everypony from here goes.”

“Maybe,” I said, despite knowing I did not believe it. I could not imagine any place in Equestria that any decent pony could consider a garden. There were plenty of places for the most indecent of ponies.

“And that is where my parents are.” She decided, and I felt my brow crease before I was even aware of the next question this raised.

“Hold on, if your parents are out there somewhere, then what the heck did you call ‘Daddy’ back on that big scary wheel? I thought it was some sort of… you know, ghost?” It was Mole’s turn to frown, but it was barely on her face for a millisecond before she buckled over and rolled on her back, in stitches.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts, silly! Ghosts are just things dumb brothers tell their little sisters to make them think it will keep them away from candy. Pro tip, IT DOESN’T!” She laughed away, nearly insanely, whilst I shrugged at the passing ponies. Eventually giving Mole a small push when I felt she was just over doing it got her to wipe away the tears of crazy and right herself.

“So, if they’re not ghosts, what are the Minstrels? Why did you call it your Pa?” The milky-brown filly rolled onto her hooves again, head first, and rubbed her chin. She was oblivious to the ponies she was sitting in the way of, one stallion giving a deep huff at the fact he had to walk around her.

“Well, I could tell you,” Mole teased, “but you haven’t seen the museum yet, have you, Captain? Huh, huh?” She wiggled her eyebrows as I parted my beak and squinted.

“A museum? This place has a- Why am I even asking? Of course, this place has a museum. What doesn’t it have?” I gave Mole a look, imagining she had an answer for that, but she just gave a big, bright smile and a shrug. “So, if we go to this museum, will it answer the rest of my questions?”

“Oh yes!” Frantic nodding came from my energetic chaperone, “You’ll learn all about our Stable, and the best singers from our Stable, and the Minstrels and the way Equestria was, and what Princess Celestia and Princess Luna did to make it great again, and how the Stable-Tec Founders built our home here, and-“

“Whoa, steady on there, kiddo,” I placed a claw on her lips, grinning, “save something for the museum to teach me, huh?” She gave a muffled apology behind my foot, making me chuckle gently, and I insisted she showed me the way. As if it knew I was about to do something, my PipBuck jerked to alert me once again.

This time around, it was a messaging system, something I hadn’t been aware my device had. I might have chucked the infernal item in the bin if I had been able to, once I saw the name on the screen.

“Elmwood:
We need to meet.”

I blanched at the message, staring at it for long enough to lose sense of time. Eventually, I decided it was a wiser decision to regroup with my old team rather than try to solve the crate load of puzzles on my own.

I attempted to write a reply to him, with Mole and Bucky both trying to give me instructions on how to do so since the machine did not have a keypad. Instead, the task involved twiddling knobs and pressing buttons until I got the right letter. The result was a garbled mess.

“Crowella MacRural:
AGEERD Met uss Ad MEET us at Mussum.”

“Buck it, that’ll do, you worthless piece of a grey egg,” I told Bucky in particular, and after what must have been nearly half an hour of trying, I sent the message. The FunBuck gave a chime for doing something on it once age for the first time, then it was a matter of waiting for the response. It came quickly, pouring extra fuel on the fire that suggested Elm might have come from a Stable himself once. Like I said, the guy had never told me much about his past before, but the fact he could use a PipBuck was damning.

“Elmwood:
Your first name is Crowella?”

Really, I thought, was this the time? I growled as I attempted my second, simpler response.

“Crowella MacRural:
Buk U.”

“Come on, Mole,” I snapped, ignoring the next few messages mocking me for having a more feminine name than I’d previously let on to my friends, “show me to this museum before I turn this guy into a new exhibit.”

“Hello, Crowella!” As luck would have it, Elmwood reached the museum steps before the hyperactive goofball and I did. He was not alone either, which probably explained why he was able to crack wise without fear of me sinking my talons into his face. I ignored the tease from Elmwood and, for the time being, only focused on who he was with.

Beside him were two other Tee-Thirty stable dwellers. I decided that, looking at them, I’d had the pick of the bunch as these looked like a pair of prudes. Curiously, my jumpsuit-wearing pony had become very nervous, particularly staring at one of the T-Thirty ponies who was giving her the stink-eye in return. Based on Mole’s track record with others here, I thought little of it.

Then, there was the unicorn beside them, the mare I’d last snapped at in virtuous infuriation. Gypsy.

“Hey,” I began, with immense awkwardness. She did not seem to desire another fraught atmosphere, and instead pulled my so sharply into a hug that I let out a high chirp.

“I don’t want to buck, or fuck, OR piss off from you. That’s what I should have said the other night. I’m sorry I didn’t…” she offered me. I took it and wrapped my legs around her to squeeze her close. After spending time with Mole, I’d almost forgotten how much I missed Gypsy. Almost. I meant to tell her I was sorry too. I meant to tell her that, despite the oddness of this stable and the countdown to a conundrum on my leg, I was curious to see whether living here was any better than out there too, so long as she had my back. Instead, I let my loins decide what I should say to her.

“You look sexy in a Stable suit.” Damn it. Damn, the buck, it. My brain grumbled as I felt it face-claw in my skull. Gypsy paused a moment, and then I heard her giggle.

“If I look sexy, you look practically ravishing, Crow.” She unlocked me from our hug and took a step back. Her eyes darted over me and, even now, I am certain she was checking me out. The way she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, the way her eyebrow raised ever so slightly. I was paying attention to all of these details.

“Scarlet is totally your color,” She finished coyly.

“Thanks,” I replied simply, trying to silently summon up a hoard of mole rats to drag me underground, “security took my stuff. They’ve got my armor, my bags, bastards even took my bandana. Then they tried to put me in one of those jumpsuits, but I told them where to stick it.” Gypsy sighed on my behalf this time around and kept one hoof relaxed on my shoulder as she spoke.

“We’ll go to them now, they don’t know the bandana means something to you. We can tell them to be a little kinder to the only bad flank griffon they got.” That made me feel a little better about the predicament, but I shook my head all the same.

“Nah, this is more important right now. Besides, there’s this other little cutie on Security going after it for me,” I gave her a firm slap on the shoulder and added my thanks, but really that she was not to sweat it.

Speaking of little cuties, Gypsy was now regarding Mole. The brown mare, without me knowing, had crept up behind me and was practically leaning over to the point she was nearly on top of me, staring at my friend from over my shoulders. As soon as she was noticed, her eyes glistened, and her jaw dropped.

“Oh, my, SQUEAKNESS! Captain, you never said you were friends with Mellow Melody!” Molasses was trying to climb over me to get to my second oldest friend, despite the amount of room we had amongst up. She bounced her off and gave the foalish girl a bemused glare.

“Who?”

“An important singer and songwriter from the Songbird Sector, and she is not her.” This came from the stallion of the yet to be introduced pair of T-Thirty ponies. He took a step forward, raising a hoof to be shook.

“Hot Shot,” He said in a rather bland tone at me. I blinked at him.

“Same to you-“

“No, it’s my name. I’m the talent scout you wish to please if you ever desire to ascend this side of your thirties,” he interrupted. By his bored tone, I was not the only one to make that mistake. I didn’t apologies for it, nor did I ignore it.

“Ah, well, in future try adding a bit more conversation to your sentences. Example, ‘Charming to meet you, my name is Crow,” The stallion looked startled, like no-pony had dared speak back to him like that before. Maybe I got away with it because I was no pony. “So, this Melody mare looks like Gypsy, huh?”

“Oh, she is, Mellow Melody is simply gorgeous!” Mole crooned happily. That earned a sardonic smile from me, but a deep clearing of the throat from the other Stable mare I’d yet to meet.

“Molasses, you do not talk that way about other mares. If you want to compliment her, suggest she is nice-looking or, if you must, beautiful. Gorgeous is simply too… incensed.” Mole shrank to the size of a pea as she nodded and apologized profusely. I turned around slowly to look at the speaker with a raised eyebrow.

“And you are?”

“Um, that’s my big sister. One of them,” mumbled Mole, swallowing hard, “Dr. Maud Candy, named after our great great gre-“

“Molasses!” warned Maud.

“-Great-great-grandmother,” finished Mole, only loud enough for me to hear. I was about to defend my little friend once again when the doctor lifted her voice once more.

“Molasses Candy, why are you not at work? You were meant to have reported to the duty warden at least…” she lifted her PipBuck to check her leg, “two hours ago! What in the Garden of Equestria are you thinking?” Mole stammered in a bag of nerves and I seized my chance.

“Mole’s been given a new job, showing me around the stable. Crust- I mean, the chief Security Officer assigned her to it.” I told her sister determinedly. My little brown mouse peeped an affirmative with a heavy nodding, but her bespectacled pale pink sibling was not amused.

“It is just like you not to read the terms of the sponsorship agreement, sister. Upon sponsoring a Stable fifty-four citizen, you must still uphold your duties to the stable. Your duties are to keep this stable clean and operational, despite your protests that you do not enjoy it. I suggest you go to Duty Warden Minion and grovel your apologies at his hooves. He may take pity and not dock your pay again.”

My young friend tried to look around for a way out of the punishment slammed down upon her by her older kin, but even I could not think of the words to make this right. Pawing the ground with a defeated sigh, she yielded.

“Yes, sister Maud,” She turned about and gave me a quick look, “I’ll message you after work, Crow, Okie Dokie?”

“Okie Dokie Smokey, Moley.” I offered, smiling reassuringly. It earned a small one back from her, and my heart fluttered to think I’d repaired a little bit of the soul that Maud Candy had just smashed to bits under fuchsia hooves. I followed the little mare’s bubble butt as she ran away and let my mind wander for a hot second. Maybe...

As I turned back, Hot Shot was up close and personal in my bubble, looking me over. His jet-black mane was swept back and that still did not discourage him from swiping his hoof over it to push it down on occasion. His fur was a pale orange, and his eyes were brown. Full of shit, my mom’s voice reminded me as I looked him, and I assumed that she was spot on with this grease ball. The only thing that did fascinate me about him was his jumpsuit. It was just a tiny bit different from the normal Stable suits, this one had a red insignia on it.

“So, a griffon, huh?” He seemed to have found something interesting in me, and I guessed it had been when I had my hind facing his way, “You’re an interesting specimen. What will you be singing in the next seven days?”

“Err, hadn’t given it much thought?”

“Well,” he moved his muzzle up to my beak, his breath sickeningly minty, “if you ever need a helping hoof in that department, come to me. Mellow Melody? I made her.” For a moment, I wondered whether he was declaring himself as her father, but then I remembered his profession.

“Lucky her,” I mumbled awkwardly, hoping he wouldn’t talk again. Although he was planning to, it was Elmwood of all ponies who came to my rescue.

“Mr. Shot, Ms. Candy, not necessarily in that order. It’s been an educational experience discovering your stable in your companies. However, Miss Breeze, Miss MacRural and I are eager to visit your magnificent museum,” he gestured exuberantly to the marble masterpiece we were stood before. Maud gave a nod and commanded us to follow her, but Elm held his ground.

“Actually, madam, we’d quite prefer to take this tour on our own. It’s not that we have not enjoyed your stimulating presences. Rather, that we want to take this step as your forefathers and foremothers did. With new and enchanted eyes!” the stitch-eyed horse waved his arms around, summoning the persona of a conjurer of cheap tricks. The illusion worked. Maud looked us over then inclined her head.

“Very well. I commend your desires to get into the real beating heart of our stable. Ensure you send us a message when you are done,” Maud the bitch mandated, turning to Hot the shit. Not a typo.

He attempted to give me a flicker of animal magnetism in his expression as he left, and even fluttered up his tail as the pair trotted away, believing I’d be watching. As chance had it I did make the mistake of looking, and it made me wretch involuntarily.

Blessedly, that left the three of us alone once more, for the first time since we’d moved into the stable. It felt like it had been a decade, rather than a day and a half. Gypsy nuzzled me via the feather-pillow wing that I had not had to have patched up.

“I’m glad we’re all back on speaking terms,” she hummed.

Were we back on speaking terms by that point? I guess we had to be. We were all in the same hole now. However, some matters of dignity still had to be addressed.

I made my way over to Elmwood, the pair of us staring each other out. Throughout the awkward interactions with the stable-dwellers and then Gypsy, his eyes had not left me. He knew what was coming next.

“Is she going to hit me? She’s going to hit me. This is going to hurt,” he reasoned in a few short seconds, straightened up and finally addressed me rather than himself, “Go on, Crowella, get it over with.”

Gratification gave me a flood of warm feelings as he flinched when I came up close, beak to snout with him, a smirk plastered across my bill. I raised my leg up, brought my talon to his spongy nose and gave it a firm flick.

“Ow,” despite his blinking eyes watering, he looked perplexed at how little I’d pummeled him, “Is that it?”

“Och, not in the slightest,” I sniggered, “that was just for calling me Crowella, which I’ll thank you not to do again. Where would be the fun in taking my revenge out on you right here, right now?” I ruffled his chilly blue mane, leaned into his pristine white ear, and whispered seductively.

“When the timing is right, you won’t know what hit you. BUT!” I cried, into the proximity of his earlobe, “right now I need your brains inside your skull rather than outside of them. Shall we?” I gestured a wing to the museum and looked to my old friends with tenacity. Elmwood grimaced in discomfiture, rubbing his ear. Gypsy applauded impishly.

“Very well done, Crow.”

Author's Notes:

Want to discuss the story? Follow me to the Scoundrel’s Settlement on Discord...

Song for this chapter; Country Roads by John Denver, but covered this time around by Copilot Music + Sound for the Fallout 76 trailer

I'm starting to notice a pattern... 12.7k. Whoo!

So, that one got a bit brutal towards the end there. As I write this, I have a plan in my head. That plan changes a lot. I thought Sticks was going to be a tougher antagonist but I saw just how many antagonists this story already has and realized his was going to be an early exit.

Apologies for how long this took to reach you. In-between writing this I've had work, a holiday with family, a music festival, a friend's birthday, my BROTHER's birthday, and a lot of incidents. It's been a bumpy July, and I think that's why this chapter ended with a bloody mess.

I'll get a sort rest before seeing where our bunch of 'orrible rotters end up next. I mean, Crusty can't be that nasty to them, can he...?

Thank you again for reading up to this moment. Ask me anything.
If this is when you stop reading, goodbye and safe travels.

If you're still strapped in for the ride, see you in the next chapter.
Life's a happy song, when there's someone by your side to sing along!

All good things,
Duskhoof