Confound these ponies, sometimes they can be too much for a guy.

I am once again in my own office. As I write this, Teardrop and Overcast are both in here together spending their evening decorating. As thankful as I am for their thoughtfulness, the constant sound of a chisel being hammered against the stone walls of this small room is beginning to grate on my nerves. I have asked them to stop a couple of times now, but they merely wait for me to get quiet again as I write, and then start chiseling once more quietly with a few whispers.

Once again, these accommodations were not something that I had requested. I only found out about it once it was mostly completed. I was wandering the long hallways that Silence had carved out, admiring the smooth stone walls and enjoying the rather cool air within the mountainside. I went to investigate the sound of a pickaxe hitting stone deeper within the halls to congratulate Silence on her hard work in creating the charming rooms for the settlers. However, as I went down the hallway, I found that it turned again. The sound was coming from the end of another long hallway that had no doors on the sides, but only one portal leading to a hollow room at the end. Entering the room, I saw a spiral staircase carved from the stone and eased my way up them to find Silence hollowing out a second story to this room. The stairwell extended all the way up to a break in the roof that sunlight poured in through .

Silence evidently did not hear me approach, as she continued to strike away the stone with frighteningly powerful swings of the pickaxe she wielded expertly with her horn. The sight was rather awe-inspiring; as it was the first time I got to witness her at work. Despite her average build and stature, the pickaxe, guided by her magic, struck with a force to be reckoned with and followed through in each swing to tear sizeable chunks from the wall instead of pebbles and shards like I had always imagined. The stones that fell were rolled across the ground into a standing pile to remove them from her workspace, which I assumed she occasionally took the time to roll them outside, or had Maple carry them out to the mason's workshop for Overcast to chisel down into bricks. "I guess you've decided to go all out on your own room then? Thus are the perks of getting to be the one making the rooms."

Silence whipped around in a startle, looking around her after she spotted me to try and find something. She failed to find it, however, and adjusted herself against the wall as she communicated with me. "This? Oh, no, this isn't for me. I was hoping this would be more of a surprise, but it happens our little overseer is quite nosey." The pickaxe clattered to rest against the wall as she stopped her work, respectful of the fact that I probably had enough noise in my head without the added stimuli of stone working and her telepathy. I asked her what kind of surprise she was working on, and with a sigh she informed me that this was to be my new office and living space.

The dimensions resemble those of the office I had back in Songring (three floors, each of approximately 225 square feet in area), with the noticeable difference being that the first two floors happen to be rooms carved out within the mountain. The top floor is a stone-brick structure, with two windows, resting atop one of the ledges approximately twenty feet above the valley below, giving me a nice vantage point from my bedroom to view the ponies and the valley. The only way to access the second and third floors is from the first floor, which can only be reached by wandering through the hallways and past all of the ponies’ rooms. The third level, though having windows to let in sunlight and a view of the outside world, does not have a door and can only be reached by the stairwell. I was informed that this was precautionary so that should I suffer from one of my moods, as I had a habit of doing every so many seasons, I could not avoid seeing or speaking with someone when I had to leave to find food or use the facilities. Clever planning on her part.

I asked her why she was putting so much effort into such a project when I could have given her something else to work on, but she only shrugged at me. "I do not want to work on another project just yet. I want to do this for you, and I was hoping to have it completed before you realized what I was doing so you could not say no and put a stop to it." She was right to worry about that, because I was already planning to ask her to return to something more beneficial to Songring than my comforts. I asked her why it was so important to her for me to have this, and all she responded to me was, "What goes around comes around."

I am happy to finally have my own quarters again, and the familiar shape of them has helped me settle in comfortably to the new location of Songring. All of the rooms have been made for the settlers, and we also have quite a few others hollowed out that will only require doors to be installed and beds moved into them if and when new arrivals make their way to Songring. My section has just most recently been done, and I am still exploring my new office at this time while Overcast engraves the walls and Teardrop gives him ideas for the designs.

There is some news to be given on the issue of our pets, and a bit of difficulty with our lumberjack because of it. I have learned that, interestingly, these giant reptiles called tanks are not actually reptiles at all. They happen to be mammals. How do I know this? Well, it started with Dawnstar informing me that the ponies were complaining of a noise issue, and that Springfield had requested my personal attention to something going on outside. I figured that the tanks had rummaged through his fields since the wall had yet to be completed, so I was ready to see the damage done. That was not the case. I instead heard loud, labored breathing, and a quiet groan coming from the area of the trees as Springfield called to get my attention.

"Benjamen," he told me as he lead me to the side of one of the tanks lying on her side and panting heavily with strain, "Stay here and keep watch. Don't let anything come near her. I'm gonna go get some water an' soap. I'll need ya ta tell me anythin' that happens when I get back." With that, he already began a gallop back to the living quarters to collect the supplies.

"Wait! What's going on? What's happening?" I called out, but received no answer as I was left to watch the huge beast heave for breaths. Uncomfortably, I rocked back and forth on my heels as I watched her struggle, waiting the achingly long minutes it took for Springfield to return with two buckets of water and some bars of soap. Setting them down nearby, he asked me what had happened. "Well, I saw a squirrel in the tree over there, but it got into a fight with another one and they took their argument elsewhere. I can only assume it was a dispute over real estate. Why?"

"I mean with the tank, smartass," he clarified irritably.

"Nothing that I have been able to see. She has just been breathing heavily and looks to be in a fair amount of pain. What's going on here exactly? Is something- Oh dear lord, that's a head, isn't it?" It was then that I realized that the tank was giving birth. Springfield immediately dipped his hooves in the soapy water and shook them dry before stepping behind the tank. It was rather amazing, and truly repulsive, to watch the scenario as Springfield put his hooves beneath the calf (as I have learned they are called) and gently cradled it as it was pushed free from its mother’s womb and into the warm air of the outside world. I will spare some of the more disgusting adjectives and explanations at this time. Believe me when I say that this section is long from over, and there is worse yet to come.

There was a sigh of relief that escaped me when the calf was finally free and Springfield gently rested it on the ground near its mother. I wanted to step over and examine what looked like a miniature tank without any of the hard, plated scales rested over its back, but as I stepped closer, Springfield shot me a glance and told me to get back and not to touch her. It was then that I saw the huge beast was still struggling, and Springfield soon had his hooves cradling the head of yet another calf. This scene went on for over an hour: One calf being birthed after another, yet still the tank was in labor. I must say I bet the big girl is thankful that the young are shaped the way they are, with a pointed nose and a long, straight body. I am sure that fact is only mildly comforting considering that she birthed nine calves in that one sitting.

Springfield finally stood up and sighed deeply in relief as well, stepping back over to the bucket to begin rinsing his hooves again. I wondered if he was going to say anything to me, but I suppose a thanks was not quite in order since I had not done anything to assist. I had merely watched what was going on in my fascination and horror. After he had washed up, he stayed to watch the calves move to their mother in hopes to feed, but I could feel a tension coming from Springfield as he refused to even blink. Finally, after perhaps half an hour, I realized he was watching the Tank's face, and she was still straining and panting painfully.

"Well, nine pups. That's amazing! I bet if you told that to a woman, she would scream bloody murder, right?" I tried to joke with him, but he still chewed at the inside of his cheek as he stared with intensity at the situation.

"She ain't done, and I think it's mispresenting."

"What?" I asked, having no concept of what he told me.

Springfield stepped back to her and put his hooves to her belly, resting his ear against her to try and detect something. As he pressed with his hooves, he shook his head slowly, and looked back to me once more. "She's got one left to go."

"Ten! Well, congratulations girl, you made it to the double digits! I'll have to present you with a medal," I said, impressed and unsure what to say about it. I could not understand why Springfield was so upset until he bit his bottom lip again, strolled to look the creature in her eyes, and set a hoof on her neck gently in comfort.

"It's probably gonna stay nine, Benjamen," he told me grimly, rubbing her neck with what I could tell to be sadness now. "It's mispresenting. Things ain't lookin' too good for her." After a few quiet moments, he straightened his expression to his usual stoic visage and looked at me with a serious air. "I guess we gotta make a choice then, huh?"

"Choice? What do you mean?"

"It's her, the pup, or we lose 'em both. What're we gonna do, Benjamen?"

A hush settled around us when he told me that, and I looked between the tank and her nine young huddled close to her at that time. I felt my heart skip into my throat and make it difficult to breathe, while Springfield stared me down and waited for me to make a decision. "What do you mean? Please, tell me what's going on." He finally told me that the calf still in her womb was positioned incorrectly, and thus, she could not complete the birth herself. The two choices, as it were, would be to either abort the pup, or to slay and cut open the mother to retrieve it. To be honest, I was stunned. Is there no other way, I asked myself repeatedly, trying to come up with a solution. Caesarian was the only thing that came to mind, but the risk of infection was too high and neither of us was trained for it.

One lives, one dies. I had to be the one to choose.

It seemed logical to me that the mother needed to live, as there were nine other calves that depended on her now. The sacrifice of one to save the many, but how was it fair to snuff out the life of this one for something as unfortunate as a birthing complication? The mother had lived a long life. If we could ask her, would she tell us to spare her child? Ten minutes must have passed while I stared at Springfield without an answer, until he raised his voice at me to tell me that the clock was still ticking.

"There has to be another way," I said, shaking my head in disbelief, and I could feel my eyes sting as I fought myself over the impossibility of this choice. "There must be an answer aside from this ultimatum."

"There ain't any way I can shift that calf, Benjamen. These hooves ain't gonna be good for it. If its head's back or its feet’re tucked, ain't gonna be any way for me to-" His words dropped off as he looked at me once more and dashed from the tank's side to push the water bucket to me. "Rinse yer arms, Benjamen. Get 'em clean 'cause we got one other choice, an' I think we're both willing to take it."

Throwing my coat aside so that my arms were now bare, I rinsed them as quickly as I could in the bucket and shook them dry. Stepping to Springfield as he rested himself behind the tank and nodded to me, I asked him what he needed me to do now. He motioned to her with his head insinuatingly.

"We need ta find out what position that pup is in and put it in the right one."

"How are we supposed to do that? You said your hooves aren't manageable enough to accomplish that."

"Yeah, these hooves ain't. Lucky you."

I felt my stomach bottom out at that moment like I had swallowed a lead weight, and I looked down to see my hands and fingers trembling at the insinuation. "No," I said, shaking my head and backing away with a stammer. "You can't be serious. I'm not trained for this! Just no!"

"Prodder!" he shouted, standing up again with a fierce scowl. "Get a hold of yerself! You still get to make this decision: The pup, her, or both. Somehow, you got what you wanted: A chance to save 'em both! You gonna squander that an' watch 'em both die in that case?"

I was left standing still in shock as he shouted at me. Let them both die? That was still an option? As much as I did not want to participate in this act, and as hard as it was to force the words through my tight throat, I finally squeaked a quiet "No." I shuddered as I moved back over and tried to take a deep breath to calm myself.

Those of you with weak constitutions might wish to stop reading now, as this is where my skin begins to crawl and hairs stand on end as I am forced to relive the trial I had to endure. Springfield left me there for just a moment to grab some rope and tie the tank's feet together to avoid her kicking and scratching during what followed. With her well enough subdued, Springfield nodded to me, and I summoned the legendary amount of willpower it took to plunge my hands within her.

I had a girlfriend in fourth grade. We kissed each other on the playground one day, and panicked afterwards that she was going to get pregnant. We clamored to find a wedding ring to make sure nobody would be upset with us. We were soon informed that this wasn't the case, and that we were not going to be underage, unwed parents. That relationship ended three weeks later when she was seduced away by a peewee handball cornerback who had transferred to our school. That happens to be the extent of my experience with girls, and shockingly, it did not prepare me very well for this scenario.

For the sake of giving you the proper amount of revulsion and distress that I felt, I will give you four words to describe what I experienced: Soggy, fleshy, pulsating, and throbbing. Let those really sink in for a moment, and when you realize that what you ate before reading this is now all over your lap and on the floor, maybe then you can relate to me. As I was forced to reach as far in as I could to try and blindly find the calf, Springfield soothingly told me that I was doing fine and kept rubbing the huge creature's side to keep her calm. After plenty of fiddling around, I finally found something pointed and felt the scrape of claws against my hand. Letting Springfield know I had found it, he started drilling me with questions.

"What do you feel?"

"Something kind of long and pointed. And some sharp claws further back."

"A'ight, means its legs are tucked. Can you feel eyes?"

"No."

"Nose?"

"Maybe, but I don't feel any nostrils."

"It's presenting breach too. Dammit. We ain't gonna be able to turn it around, but the best we can do is at least get its legs straight so she can push."

"Springfield, less talking; just tell me how the hell to handle this."

"Grab its feet an' pull towards you. Put yer hand 'round its claws so they don't scrape her up. There ain't gonna be a lot of room, but you should be able to ease 'em out from underneath the pup. Once you done that, pull real gently until ya feel the pup start movin' on its own again."

After a few minutes of struggle, I believed I had gotten the creatures feet pulled so they were straight behind it. As instructed, I applied a very gentle amount of pull on the pup until the movements within the tank started once again, feeling a tiny bit of give.

"Alright, I feel it moving. What do I do now, Springfield?"

"Go clean yourself up. You've done all you can."

I probably should have been more considerate to the tank, but knowing I now had my freedom back, my hand “schluck”ed back out at me and I immediately slammed my whole arm as far as I could reach it into the bucket of water. My extremities would not sit still, and as much as I scrubbed with the soap against my arm and rinsed over and over again, I couldn't get rid of the sensation on my arm of the environment it had just been in. I am sure endless amounts of disgusted complaints escaped me while I was having my short episode. Thankfully, Springfield let me do so until he quietly set his hoof on my shoulder. When I finally composed myself, he motioned for me to look back once more. The tank had now curled her body around and was shielding her ten new calves as they suckled with quiet grunts and croaks.

"Well, you got what you wanted Benjamen." Springfield told me as he stood me up once more and bumped me in the side with his shoulder. "They both get the chance to keep goin'." I tried to answer, but only a useless dribble of sound escaped me as I couldn't formulate a response. I might equate it to a verbal fart. "All good things are worth the work to get 'em," he told me, pushing me gently towards the housing and coming along with me. "She's had a real tough day, let's let the gal get some peace for a bit."

"Yeah," I responded mindlessly, trying to fight the fact that my legs wanted to wobble and give out from under me.

"By the way, Benjamen... Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"Naw, really. I know it wasn't easy ta do that, an' it means a lot to see that you've got what it takes. I respect that."

"No, really, don't mention it. I don't know if my stomach can handle it right now, Springfield."

With that, we now have twelve tanks around Songring, though ten of them are just babies. I have concerns now that there may be a scarcity of food for a population of them that large, but perhaps not. I have merely been sending Salmon around each day to watch how much food they consume when he is not busy battling the tigerfish over game in the river. If we keep a close eye on the surrounding foliage, I am sure we can estimate how well it will handle the current tank population. There has been one nice thing since this occurrence though, and that has been that Maple has absolutely refused to see or speak to me since. I find the peace rather enjoyable, but I worry if perhaps she has some sort of complex that will cause us future complications. I will enjoy the peace for another couple of weeks before I begin to question how to resolve this issue. I am not fool enough to give up a good thing too early. Not to mention it will hopefully resolve itself.

I just relocated myself to the second story to see if I could escape Teardrop and Overcast in their little endeavor, as they keep peeking at me every few minutes. I also keep hearing chortles, chuckles, and giggles from them, so I can't tell if they're up to no good, or just nervous and making jokes amongst themselves while I am busy. Either way, I felt it necessary to remove myself, but when I did, I found something that I do not know how I feel about yet. On the farthest wall from the stairwell, tucked away in the top corner of the room, is a small engraving that was already there. I had to stand on a chair to see it clearly.

"♥ Stone Silence"

Why do I foresee this causing complications?