I was excited when I woke up today. I was awakened to the sound of Overcast giving a low "Ow" as he bumped his head on the table in my tiny dining room while cleaning the floor beneath it with a washcloth and a bucket of soapy water. Dawnstar came up the stairs shortly after to ask me to give her my sheets so that they could be washed with the rest. Also, she asked for me to get Abeo off of my bed since she thought she might lack the strength to remove the stubborn young tank herself. Winter Wrap Up day has arrived, and that meant that it was time for me to write my seasonal entry in my journal retelling all of the exploits of Songring.

I could not have been happier to sit down and begin writing, knowing that for once this entry would contain no tales of hardships and was merely going to be recalling how smoothly the rest of the winter happened to go. Even with a few bumps along the way, it would be one of the few seasons I've had in Songring that I get to report on the peaceful life that can be lived here...

... But I've been stuck here for three hours trying to figure out what exactly to write about. No news is good news, I suppose? It's also terribly boring news, but I simply cannot forsake my duty to myself and my journey by not giving my seasonal report here in this journal. Songring has not made much real professional progress to mention: Just the usual smelting, mining, woodcutting, farming, and miscellaneous crafting going on thanks to resources collected by the community. It appears that we are actually becoming quite wealthy thanks to the production of jewelry, as there is little else to do with the few gemstones that are found in the mines while pulling out the galena ore. Aside from this, however, no new mandates, orders, or construction projects have been put in place. Songring is simply proceeding as normal.

Perhaps I shall just default this record to a personal entry then. Now there's quite a bit more to write about that subject.

In that case, I want to start by noting that I got the pleasure of meeting with a friend of mine this season. Well... I met with Sir Bullion, that is, for his winter visit. Can I call him a friend? I think I will, in light of the fact that we seem to both be in good spirits when we see the other one now for more reasons than just the upcoming business transactions. I have become acquainted with the feeling of my lips turning up in a smile when I see the large plume bobbing about atop the familiar purple cavalier's hat, and it does not seem to fail that Bullion's face spreads into a grin when he sees me wander into the depot and through the short aisles of goods he has on display. This visit was no different, as he rushed to me and quickly greeted me with an excited salutation.

There is something about Bullion that I noticed on this visit and I am sure it is the reason I have come to enjoy his winter visits: His disconnection from reality. Some might say his "head is up in the clouds", which may be quite accurate, as he tends to be readily able to laugh and smile with the best of times, but then withdraw and remain lofty even when informed of our greatest misfortunes. Come to think of it, I have never seen him unhappy for more than a few minutes at a time before he finds something new to occupy his mind with that brings him back to high spirits. A good example is when he asked me about my young friend.

"Where is that darling little munchkin you brought with you last time, Mr. Prodder? Hyacinth was her name? I have something of a surprise for her!" Bullion stated to me exuberantly, almost bouncing with excitement while he did his best to not glance over at a slightly dusty box underneath one of the display tables. When I regretfully informed him that Hyacinth and her family had moved back to Stalliongrad to stay with family, his giddy demeanor evaporated. I neglected to inform him exactly of why I had dismissed them, but even the simple version was enough to make him hang his head for a bit and look at the ground. "Oh. Well... Thus is life, I guess. At least she was alright when leaving I take it?" With that, he used his hoof to push the box further beneath the table and try to hide it.

Rolling my eyes, I held out my hand. "She was doing alright. Bullion, if you have something for her, I have already made a promise that I am going to visit her at a later time. I can take whatever it is and deliver it to her for you." Before I could even think about setting my hand back down, he had used the magic from his horn to lift the dusty box again and shove it into my grasp, almost toppling me over with it.

"What a splendid idea, Mr. Prodder! I just know the little darling will love what I brought for her this trip. Thank you, it means quite a bit to me that you'd see to her receiving that package."

"What is it?" I queried, unable to open the box in my hands as it was too heavy to hold up with one arm.

"Books!" I was puzzled when he told me that, but it made more sense later in my office when I went to investigate the peculiar box. He was not lying, it was full of books. Brightly colored covers with charming illustrations on the front, and each one having the same large, bold words at the very top: The Crimson Cavaliers. Dozens of books about these characters filled the box, all of them quite old and wearing a film of dust on them from the conditions they had been kept in; however, a simple brushing with the hand showed them to be very well kept, with barely any wear on the covers and the pages almost entirely intact aside from the occasional notch or small tear at the edges. Glancing over some of the summaries, it seems that the books spanned a large range of intended audiences: Some targeted younger readers with simple sentences and direct plots, while others were more complex: I found at least two novels with more advanced words intended to draw the reader into the extended plight of the Cavaliers and their journeys. One other peculiar thing I noticed is that each book has a different author. Only sequels to other books in the series have the same author, and at that, only sometimes. It does make me wonder if perhaps these characters were more than just a fictitious group of adventurers, and these are perhaps all just retold stories of their true exploits. It's either that, or intellectual property rights were not a well-understood concept in Equestria back then.

Bullion and I also had a chance to share a few drinks in the dining hall, at which time I got to hear more about him. Born into wealth, he has always lived a privileged life. It was a life spent on the road, however, as his father insisted that Bullion join him on his travels at a very young age. This meant that Bullion did not spend his entire life living in a large house in an upscale neighborhood, but instead spent a fair portion of it riding on a bumpy wagon, or sleeping in a quickly prepared tent underneath a starry sky. He lacked a formal education, instead teaching himself from books or the occasional tutor his father hired for him when they were between long journeys. He met his wife Denier in Canterlot, having run into her coming home from his very first journey without his father. Quite literally ran into her. Her nose was fractured when his wagon collided with her while she was chasing after a lipstick container that had fallen out of her saddlebag. While she recovered, he did everything he could to assist her, at the displeasure of her fiancée who did not like him spending so much time in Denier's presence and attending to her every whim. After she had recovered, Bullion discovered her lipstick container in the street and went to return it to her. Her fiancée became enraged when he showed up, however, thinking that he was instead bringing her gifts now too, and challenged him to a duel. Bullion gladly accepted the gentlecolt's challenge for Denier's affection. Having practiced with his rapier as a young colt since he first started reading of the adventures of the Cavaliers, he had little trouble winning the contest and Denier's heart thereafter.

After his fourth glass of strawberry wine, he did have something rather peculiar to tell me amongst his slightly drunken ramblings. "I envy you, Prodder. Quite a bit ahead in store for you! Heh heh heh... Looks like your spring will be spent sprung, if you catch my drift." I did not catch his drift, but he just told me to be prepared for a surprise. It had to do with some sort of special order that one of the settlers had put in for last year. I am a little worried now, but perhaps it’s none of my business anyways. As long as our safety isn't compromised by whatever it is. Spring will be sprung... It sounds like perhaps Machina has something up her sleeve. I'll keep an eye on her just in case.

On the thought of keeping an eye on individuals, I seem to have started losing track of someone recently. I take her for granted quite often, but she's certainly still a helpful part of my life. Someone to simply talk to without worry of judgment (or even response), and is also someone peaceful to have lying around my office and snuggling up at my feet on the bed while I'm trying to get to sleep. Sadly, a recent event involving my companion may mean that Songring will end up with a leash law soon, not to mention I, myself, am still feeling the social backlash from what happened.

Let me begin explaining what I mean by saying it all started on what appeared to be a rather uneventful day in Songring. I had just returned from another visit to Bullion's caravan to take stock of what all the settlers were looking to purchase from him and how much he wanted in return. Seeing as it was time to update a few records in my office to make sure I was keeping track of which objects were meant to go to which individuals, I was walking through the apartment halls with a pencil in hand. I still have not found that pencil again after I dropped it, along with all of my papers that I was using to organize the requests and trade offers. Everything that I was holding fell into a scattered and spread-out mess in the hallway, all because I heard something that shot through my nerves like a bolt. A scream. A female scream resonated through the apartment halls in a sound of terror. With no time to bother gathering up my belongings, I darted towards where I perceived to be the source of the sound.

The only thing I could see as I rounded the corner was Teardrop standing in the hallway, waving me down immediately when I saw her. She looked panicked, but as I sprinted over, there seemed to be nothing wrong with her. Before I could ask her if she was alright, she burst out into a shout. "It's Maple! I-in her room, she just screamed! I don't know what happened! I was just in my room and then I came out when I heard it!" Shuffling around worriedly and looking to me for answers, Teardrop seemed to quickly be losing her nerve.

"Don't worry, I'm on it. Just get Dawnstar and let her know we may have a situation. I'm going in." With that, I motioned for Teardrop to go ahead and get going, while I, myself, leaned against the door and put my ear to it before knocking with a heavy fist. "Maple! Are you okay in there? What's going on?"

"Get off, get off, get off!" I heard in response quickly, bellowed out in dismay as it sounded like someone else must have been in there with her. Without another question, I swung the door open and closed it behind me, glancing inside to figure out exactly who was in her bedroom. My fists were readied and I felt my heart racing, ready to defend her against someone if they were indeed attempting to attack Maple. "Ben! Help!" I heard her scream again, my eyes darting to the bed. As soon as I saw her, however, my shoulders slumped forward in a sigh of relief and frustration. Maple was laying on her back in the bed with a rather large tank calf slung over her. Its head slipped underneath the bed shortly after I spotted the familiar pink, discolored splotch around its eye. Abeo was lying atop Maple and pinning her down.

"... Maple, it's just Abeo. Why is she in your room?"

"Why is she in my room, Ben!? This is your gross lizard, not mine!" she reminded me as she thrust her hooves into the calf's side, but the creature was simply too heavy to push away. Abeo's head remained hidden beneath the bed as she lazily draped over Maple and emitted a deep rumble of contentment.

"Just calm down," I told her, shaking my head and rolling my eyes. "It'll be over with soon enough. I'll see what I can do to get her out of here."

"Just get it off already!" Maple shouted back, still grunting and heaving with panted breaths as she struggled to shove the unwanted visitor off of her. "Do something!"

At first I joined her in her attempt to forcefully remove Abeo from her bed. Even with the combined strength of us both, the tank's stubborn nature made her just claw into the bed more deeply and refuse to let us move her as she gave a muffled squeal of protest. After several minutes of grunting, straining, and gasping after each thrust, I gave up on that pursuit and instead took a different approach. "What exactly is so interesting down there?" I asked, as I looked underneath the bed to get a glimpse of whatever Abeo was up to. At that time, I saw the tank's snout digging deeply into a sleeve of cookies, chewing slowly as she ate them one-by-one like a grazing cow. It seemed that the tank calf was not going to be ready to go anywhere until there was nothing left beneath Maple's bed to eat. I sighed and crawled under the bed to see if I could resolve this more quickly.

"What are you doing down there?" Maple questioned warily as I disappeared from sight.

"Simple, I'm going to eat it out."

"What?!"

"I mean I’m going to out-eat her! If there's nothing left to eat under here, she'll go about her business."

"You're... Hey! That's mine! Don't you dare put your mouth on those!"

"It's the only way, Maple."

"But... Stop! Stop eating that! Ew, ew! With that thing?! Get your face out from down there, Ben!"

"If you want to help, try moving around some! Maybe it'll scare her into getting her head out of there."

"Like how?"

"I don’t know... bounce. Rock. Anything!"

At that point the bed started creaking and thumping as she threw her weight about in an attempt to startle Abeo into moving away, but it only succeeded in bumping my head against the ground and making it more difficult for me to stuff as many of the cookies in my mouth as possible to try to get them out of Abeo's sight. I feared she might snap at my hand for trying to take them, but perhaps if I ate them all, she would simply give up and go away. Not the best plan, but it seemed to be the safest.

"It's still not getting off, Ben! Your stupid, overgrown lizard is just all over the place now! Why can't you get a hoofle on that thing?!"

"I'm trying, it's just too big! Give me a break already!" I shouted back with my mouth full, spitting crumbs everywhere. The cookies seemed endless, and Abeo was not deterred in the least by our little competition. After another moment of futilely trying to outmaneuver the beast, I gave up and made my way from under the bed. “So much for that,” I said, wiping some crumbs away from my mouth. “Got anymore ideas?”

“Try getting on the bed and pushing with your legs.”

“We already tried that, and it already didn't work. What makes you think this time will be any different?”

”Do you have any other ideas Ben? Look, if I keep pushing and throwing my weight around, maybe you using your legs will be enough to get it off this time.”

She was right, I didn’t have another plan. I just really didn’t want to be in the same bed as her. I couldn’t just leave her there though. Well I could, but I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I did.

“…Fine,” I agreed as I took my position on the bed. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

“Okay. On three. One… Two… Three!” On her command, we executed the plan. With our combined efforts of pushing and rocking, we were able to push Abeo off of Maple just enough for her to wriggle out from underneath the calf.

“There. We did it. Happy now?”

“No, it’s still on my bed!”

“…you’re insatiable Maple.”

It would have to be enough, however. Despite her protests, I simply told Maple that I had done all I could and she could just get Abeo to leave once all the cookies had been eaten. While she insisted that I owed her something for Abeo eating her personal stock, I simply told her that we were even for her breaking my squirt bottle and she could now start calling Daggersides names again.

Stepping out of Maple's room alone, as she stayed to make sure Abeo didn't eat anything more important, I walked out to a rather uncomfortable sight. Many eyes were locked on me as I came out of the room, each pair reflecting varying degrees of shock and/or curiosity as they stared me down when I entered the hallway. Half of Songring seemed to have collected just outside the door, and were watching me as though I were a spectacle to behold. "What?" I queried at first, wondering if there was a problem before I looked back to the door and bothered to truly consider the situation from their perspective. "... No. It's not what you think. Really. Stop! Stop laughing, it's not funny!" Thus followed the hours of denial from me as each pony there had to make their own comments about what possible scandalous things had went on behind those closed doors. Some laughed about me not being able to "get it off", others were disgusted and looked down upon me with disapproving stares, and several (Teardrop and Honeysides) were chatting in fascinated tones amongst themselves about the supposed size of the “lizard” in the room.

I still have yet to live it down. At least one comment a day has been made at my expense about what Maple and I were supposedly doing while behind closed doors. It seems some ponies will only believe what they want to believe, for no matter how many times I assert that we were simply trying to get Abeo out of the room, they continue to claim it's just a cover-up for what was really happening.

It even got so bad as to have someone confront me about it personally. I was in my office at the time, trying to loop a collar around Abeo's neck so that I could more easily leash train her to avoid such things from happening again in the future, when my door was kicked in furiously. Either my nerves have become fatigued these days or I am becoming accustomed to having my door smashed in by irate ponies, because I didn't find myself jumping at the loud noise as the door handle ricocheted off of the wall behind it. I merely looked up from the tank calf who continued to roll back and forth on her back irritably as she tried to escape the noose in defiance.

"Yo, I've got a bone to pick with you, Prodder." Willow stamped through my doorway alone, using his back hoof to slam the door shut behind him. He glared at me with his brow set low in anger, as he folded his ears back while methodically grinding his teeth before speaking. "Just who do you think you are? Where do you get off? You can't just swoop in and take my place!"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, standing up and helping Abeo slip back onto her stomach to go bumble her way under my desk and avoid the angry sound of Willow's voice. "I haven't been trying to take your place."

"Don't give me that, you mutant ape!" Willow spat, stepping close to me with what I believed to be the intent to strike me. "Years, dude. Years! I have spent longer than you could imagine trying to be that stallion, and you think just because you're some big-shot coordinator, and ambassador, and big-wig, rich, snotty bastard that you get to take what's mine? You must take me for a joke to think that I wouldn't have something to say about this!"

"Calm down!" I shouted as I backed against my desk and slowly circled around it to put distance between the two of us. "Just tell me what's wrong! I promise, whatever it is, it has been completely unintentional. I'll do what I can to resolve it."

"You can't talk your way out of this one, Wise-guy. You really want to play stupid with me? You mean to tell me you weren't taking what isn't yours? In Maple's room, behind closed doors! You were... You were plowing my mare!" At this point, I put my hand on my face and groaned. It was all the response I could muster at the moment. "Well? How'd she taste?" he asked me as he reached my desk and slammed his front hooves on its surface, leaning forward to stare me down. "Was it worth it? Was it worth the beatdown I'm going to put on you? How good does it feel now!?"

"That didn't happen!" I shouted back at first, before putting my hands on my desk to return his stare indignantly. I could feel my chest beginning to burn with fury at his accusations. "Besides, she's not your mare! What makes you think you have any claim to her?"

"You wouldn't know, would you? You're just fresh on the scene! Just show up at the beginning of this expedition and figure you'll just get off and get out! I've known her since we were in school. I've been the one at her side that whole time, not you! You weren't there!"

"You mean you've just been her toady that whole time, not her friend. That doesn't give you sole ownership of her, Willow! She's a big girl and she can make her own decisions, including who she wants to be intimate with. I don't care how long you've been around her; that doesn't give you any kind of special privilege. In fact, it sounds to me like you were friendzoned if anything."

"I'm more than a friend! What about you? You're just her boss! You just like the feel of that power, I bet. Get off on seeing her beneath you? It tickle your fancy when she gets on her knees for you, you corrupt little fuck? She deserves a lot more than you, no matter how swelled your ego gets from the pats on the head Celestia gives you!"

"Better than me? Are you saying you're that "better than me" she deserves?" I asked as I gripped my desk to keep from jumping across it at him. "Whether or not I even want her is irrelevant, Willow, I'm offended that according to you I failed to measure up to a half-assed, pathetic, spineless, little moron with a jealousy problem! What have you accomplished, Willow? Made a fine bed recently? A great cabinet? A masterwork chair? You're just an easily-replaceable woodcrafter. I run this place. I make decisions that affect every single one of these ponies, and it is in my hands that their lives rest. You want to measure up to me? Go ahead and tell me: Just what do you have up your sleeve that can possibly show me up?" I was beyond any reasoning and far past the ability to be humble or judicial in my statements. All I felt was rage, and at so many things I could not begin to express or identify what they all were.

"You're just a big monkey! Sure, you can wave all these responsibilities, and achievements, and whatever was given to you because you're a privileged child in my face, but it doesn't change the facts! The fact that you're just an ugly, freakish monster! You're not even a stallion in the way you act! I mean, look at this! You still play with little colt's toys!" At that, he snatched the Flip doll off of my desk with his hoof and wagged it in front of me.

I felt my chest tighten, watching him shake the plaything violently in front of me. "Put. That. Down," I told him seriously, not willing to argue with him any further.

"Oh ho ho," he began to chortle as he found a bit of power in his situation, "I have something you want? Isn't this a familiar situation then?" I watched him curl his other hoof around the doll's head, shielding the button eyes and gentle smile from me as he gritted his teeth. "You get how I felt then? How I felt when I was standing outside that door?" He seethed, as he began pulling his curled hooves apart and twisting the colorful captive held between them. I bellowed at him once more to stop, but he merely kept talking past my protests. "As I listened! As I had to hear you two in that room alone! As I stood by while you took what I cared for just for a quick fling! As you stole my love from me!" The last he shouted as he lurched forward at me, overstraining the age-worn material until it could take no more. The sound of Flip's fabric resonated through my office as the cloth gave in to the stress and severed into two pieces... the head and body separated in his grasp as he heaved angrily and watched me with a victorious grin. "Now you get it," he let the words drip from his mouth venomously, watching as I could only stare down in horror at the cotton stuffing leaking from the severed parts of the doll. He threw the pieces to the floor, heedlessly letting his hoof slam down atop the damaged toy.

I witnessed his expression change then. I have trouble remembering exactly what I was thinking in that moment, as it felt more like I was watching myself from afar, completely removed from my own actions. His face still held the proud grin of his achievement, up until I looked back at him. The only thing I heard was the drums that my CCMI blared at me and my heart beating heavily in time with the rhythmic pulse. His demeanor changed quickly. It was not until much later that I recognized the face he had made: The same face that the rat had made back in Ponyville when the door swung open and it saw me staring down at it. A look that showed he quite honestly feared for his life.

Somewhere in the struggle that followed my desk was turned over, and the door to my office was ripped from its hinges. We both exited the building in a rush, too fast for anyone who heard the screams and bellows from the two of us to catch us in time. I remember the sensation of my feet beating against the grass outside, as we both darted towards the Charmedsmile. Willow was heading to the bridge as I followed close behind him, right on his heels. I can't remember if he slowed down or if I was just faster, but I know that I leapt at him and landed on his back. Throwing my weight atop him, I wrestled him to the ground and sent both of us rolling towards the bridge. We stopped, wedged in the sand on the banks of the river directly before the wooden planking. I was still on his back after we came to a halt.

I plunged my hands within the mane on the back of his head and used the grip to repeatedly slam his head against the ground, sending his nose right into the sandy banks. I heard voices around me before too long, but they seemed distant and unimportant as they were drowned out by the low thuds of impact and Willow's own loud squeals for help and pleas for me to stop. Each time he tried to get up, my knee pressed harder into his spine to hold him there and let me continue pummeling him into the sand. "Do you feel like a big man now!? You still proud of yourself!?" I didn't even bother to wait for his answer, grinding his face into the sand after that and continuing to yell in his ear. "Eat it!" I growled at him as I continued to dig his face deeper in the banks. "I'll make sure you eat so much sand you shit glass, Willow!"

I finally came back to myself some as I saw the tears leaking down his face and the blood beginning to pool at his nostrils from the blunt force of his nose striking the unyielding surface. I pulled his head up and heard his chest spasm in what sounded almost like a sob. Willow shook his head to try to wrestle his mane free of my hand, squealing at the feeling of having the hair almost pulled out by my vice grip, then grew still to ask me to please stop and to say that he was sorry. He sniveled as I stared down at him, watching as he was unable to keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. "You're sorry? Who are you sorry to?" I shouted at him, twisting my hand in his mane tighter.

"You! Benjamen, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Benjamen! You win!"

"Say my name again!" I told him, shaking his head once to try to appease the anger building in me once more, "I want you to remember it! Who are you sorry to? Say my name again!"

"Benjamen Prodder!" He screamed in my grasp, before giving another quiet sob of defeat.

Before I could continue, I felt myself grabbed from behind and teeth grasped at my hands as more than one pony grappled me and started to pull me away. "That's enough!” I heard someone call in my ear. Looking down, I saw the peach-colored fur of Salmon's leg wrapped around my chest as he heaved me away from my victim. Springfield wrenched my hands away with his teeth, almost breaking skin as I refused to let go at first, then pushing them to my chest as I finally released the brutalized carpenter laying on the bank of the river.

"Give it a rest, you've done enough," Springfield barked at me as he spat out my hands and motioned for Salmon to pull me further away. Once I was out of reach of the two of them, Springfield tended to Willow and made sure he was going to be alright, helping him to his hooves and leading him back away from the scene with his face hidden as all of the other ponies stared on at our spectacle.

Salmon put himself under my arm as I gasped for breath, just trying to regain my bearings and fully come back to my senses of where I was at the moment and how I had gotten there. "What the blazes, Prodder?" Salmon asked me, dumbfounded as to why I would assault Willow for seemingly no reason. When I put my arm around his neck and told him what had happened, he patted my shoulder with his hoof to offer a bit of comfort. "Can't say I approve of your tactic... but I can't convict a pony for being blind in the heat of passion." With that, he told me to come with him and get myself cleaned up. He sat me down in the Songring bathhouse to just wait for a bit while I caught my breath and slowly came out of the stupor I had fallen into once my frenzy had abated.

Needless to say, after the true story got around about the cause of the grisly display, all the jeers and speculations about what had happened in Maple's room ceased. I have yet to have another individual poke fun about it or comment on it around me since. Is it respect or fear? I'm not sure, but there's nothing I can do about it now, only try to repair my image in the aftermath.

It was hours later, when the sky started to get dark, that I finally regained my faculties, picked myself up out of the waterfall, and walked back to my office. I was alone at that time, aside from Daggersides who had figured that if I wasn't going to leave, she'd just go ahead and bathe in front of me. I didn't care and neither did she, but it seems she was interested in following along with me until we made it to the apartment halls.

"Just wanted to say you fight good, kid. Don't worry what anypony else tells you. Sometimes you gotta lay down the law in the only way some ponies will understand it. I'll back you up if anypony starts giving you grief over this."

I thanked Daggersides for her encouragement, asking her to then leave me alone so I could take care of some personal business before bed: My office had been left in a mess from my scrap with Willow, I would probably have to find a way to remove Abeo from the wall with how scared she must have been during the argument, and lastly, there was the issue that I was going to have to suffer through finding a way to repair Flip. Things were only slightly better than I expected when I entered my office.

My desk was right-side-up now and Abeo was gone from the room. Flip no longer lay in pieces on the floor, but instead rested on the desk next to something peculiar. Next to Dawnstar.

Wearing one of my own button-up shirts on her torso, with the front unbuttoned to show her belly to me, she lounged on the desk in front of me as I walked through the door. Dawnstar's mane, which I was used to seeing tied up into a bun behind her head to keep it out of the way, was now let down to rest in a cascade of colors around her shoulders. Her tail draped around her legs on my desk, resting in her lap as she kept only her hooves at the end crossed in front of me. "Oh, there you are Benjamen," she commented as she tried to deepen her voice, struggling to maintain a breathy quality about it. "It's so good to see you made it."

"What are you doing?" I asked her humorlessly, shaking my head as I felt my lips purse in disapproval.

"Just waiting up on you," she told me at first, coyly shifting her body so that her legs curled up onto the desk alongside her. Her body soon lounged on its side, with her head held up by a hoof and her elbow propping her up on the desk before me. "You've had a very busy day. Your little scene with Willow had made me wonder if perhaps you were acting out to try to release some stress you might be having. Mr. Prodder, as your assistant, I want to help you in any way I can... so tell me... is there anything I can do to help you?" It was then that she smiled, looking me over as I was still dripping wet from sitting so long underneath the waterfall in the bathhouse.

I pushed past her and grabbed the severed pieces of Flip from the desk. "There are some things you can do: You can take off my shirt, get off my desk, and find me some thread and a needle," I responded simply and coldly, not bothering to offer up a kinder refusal to her rather obvious offer.

"Oh," my intern stated with a bit of a sullen timbre, her ears folding down unhappily. Moments later, she forced herself to smile after taking in a deep breath, and picked up my pen in her horn's grasp while I watched her. She put the cap of it in her mouth gently, running her glance over me again to get a good look as I had stepped into the light of my office. "Are you certain there's nothing else you would want me to do for you, Benjamen?"

"There is one more thing," I began as I looked deeply into her eyes, which sparkled with excitement. They soon held only the faintest glimmer of moisture after I reached my hand out to snatch the pen from her and stuff it in my soaked pocket. "You can get my pen out of your mouth. That isn't yours!" With that, I merely pointed to the door, asked her to leave, and to not come back unless she was delivering thread and a needle. That is when I recovered my shirt from her and went to bed to try to sleep, hoping that the next day would be better.

Willow and I have yet to speak since our scuffle, so I haven't been able to apologize. I honestly get the feeling he might be avoiding me, but I find it hard to blame him. I did go rather over the line in how I handled the situation. I just hope I can repair Flip... but she's torn in a pretty bad spot. I don't know if I can get her to look right again. So much for the promise I made, I guess.

Songring may not have been productive, but it sure was active this winter. Maybe there will be less misunderstanding this spring... however sprung it may be. Bullion's words fill me with dread when I am left to consider what that might possibly mean. No place to go but forward, however, and I will just have to go there bravely.