"...You want me to wear that? No way!" Fuzzball’s high-pitched shouting could be heard in half of the camp as she was presented her new 'uniform' which was basically just one of the dog costumes with SOAR's crest on it. She was obviously annoyed by the whole situation, judging by the glare she was giving the instructor, and the recruits who tried to pet her or simply stared didn't help either. "First off, I need room for my wings. Second: That thing looks awful, it's way too tight, and is it really too much to find even one good fruit in here?"
“Wear it for now,” The big D.S. who had originally found Fuzzball said. “It will show folks that you belong here and keep them from having a cow when they see you.”
“Fine, but only for a little bit,” Fuzzball complained, putting on the uniform. The batpony scratched her side vigorously, the coarse material rubbing against her coat starting to get on her last nerve. “It’s itchy, and what about some good fruit?”
“Fair enough,” The D.S. said, sighing before reaching into his duty bag and pulling out an oval shaped fruit and held it out to the pony. “I was saving this for me, but I think you need it more."
“Is...is that?” Fuzzball asked, hardly daring to ask, lest the slice of heaven disappear like a popped soap bubble. Her eyes honed in on the fruit in front of her like a heat seeking missile, just to ensure the brutal humidity and heat was not starting to get to her head.
“It’s a mango," The D.I.S. said, taking interest at how the batpony was staring at the mango. "My wife keeps trying to get me to eat more fruit so she’s been packing one of these in my lunch for weeks now. It’s yours, if you want it."
The drill sergeant, being 240 pounds of solid American fighting muscle, had many accomplishments to his name. He was an expert in unarmed combat, and been on the ground when the bullets flew, but none of that made a difference as he was tackled against the wall by the enthusiastic batpony.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Fuzzball cried, hugging him fiercely around the neck. The D.S. was worried for a moment but then the pressure let off as Fuzzball snatched up the offered fruit and began to devour it with gustatorial gratitude. "Sooooo good."
The last few hours had been a torrid whirlwind for everyone that had to testify. First, it was the higher ups telling the supreme panel what had transpired, including a hotline phone call to the president. Luckily, Wind had been let off with a warning, but several stipulations had been put in place.
For starters, he had to spend the next three weeks cleaning the latrines. Second stipulation was that, to make sure that a full blown brawl did not break out, the camp be split down the middle with the changeling queens getting one half each. At least, that was the plan until a third changeling queen, who had a batpony daughter, beat the other two up and forced them to make peace. Third stipulation was that the cub, Abba, be properly taken care of. Finally, the last stipulation was that Fuzzball be made into the official SOAR mascot. That greatly annoyed the mare, but when given the option of having a mango stiped, Fuzzball happily agreed.
Later that evening, everything slowly calmed down again. The new arrivals had gotten their own room (of course under surveillance to make sure they wouldn’t get out), but when Private Smith was doing the usual hourly check on them, he instantly knew something was wrong.
“Where is she!?!? Man, I’m so dead if the sergeant finds out about this…” For the last ten minutes, he had been frantically searching for Fuzzball the “batpony”, as they decided to call her. The others were no real help as well, they didn’t even notice she was gone. Due to his panic, he failed to hear the light snoring from above him. Had he looked up, he would have seen her, hanging from the ceiling with her wings wrapped around her body, resting like a real bat would. This continued on for nearly an hour, only to end when the sergeant came storming in like an angry falcon.
“What do you mean there is no possible way she could have escaped!?!?” The sergeant bellowed, forcing the private back onto one of the beds due to being scared at his superior’s sudden shift in demeanor. “She has wings for crying out loud! All she would have to do would be to nudge the door open if it was not closed all the way. I am going to stick you on latrine duty with Private Wind as punishment for your carelessness, do I make myself clear?!?!”