//------------------------------//
// Unruly Ponies 
// Story: The Olden World 
// by Czar_Yoshi 
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When Starlight emerged from the nondescript shack that disguised the entrance to the power tunnel of Copsewood, all thoughts of annoyance and monotony toward the lengthy tunnel walk melted away, replaced by a murderous sun and a view down the side of a slightly-sloped town that shimmered more and more with heat mirages the closer her eyes wandered to the jungle basin. It felt like her coat might fall off, and as morbid as the thought should have sounded, she almost wanted it to happen.

"Ugh..." Grenada winced, her mane visibly deflating to a limp and ragged state. "This is hotter than I'd like," she remarked, aura flickering as if the heat was trying to extinguish her horn. "It likely means we're going to see a thunderstorm tonight. That'll be bad if things come to blows, and I don't think it will cool down, either. So unless you like hot rain, you should find somewhere dry tonight." Seeing Starlight's expression, she added, "It's worse than right now. Trust me."

Steeling herself, Starlight squared her hooves, ready to follow wherever Grenada went. She had already survived an hour-long trek in the humid weather, after all, even if it felt even hotter than it was then. She could make it to wherever they were going next.

Jamjars, meanwhile, limped along, not even acknowledging that her once-bushy tail was dragging in the dirt. At Grenada's guidance, the trio took a single, mildly-sloped switchback, moving closer to the southern end of town... and almost instantly arrived at their destination.

It was a building, broad and squat, just like every other in the town that left Starlight with no way to differentiate between houses and stores. Made of dusty bricks with tin gutters and a flat roof, its few windows were too high for her to see in even if she had been an adult, and even if they were unboarded. But the door was unbarred, and had a slat at eye level with a pair of eyes looking out.

"What's the password?" a gruff, accented stallion's voice asked. Starlight almost giggled at the unsubtlety before remembering that those were likely ponies who were both seen for good reason in the Stone District as bandits and were likely on her side.

Grenada rolled her eyes, cleared her throat, and began to recite. "Hark, by Mobius' flimsy beard I command thee to open up, and admit thy..."

Jamjars actually laughed, preventing Starlight from hearing the rest of the muttering and prompting her to chuckle too. Then the door swung open, and an abundantly hairy stallion with a dark brown mane that completely covered his eyes stepped out, looked them over, and grinned. "You brought kids? Huh huh! Hello, kids! It's a good password, isn't it?"

"Uhhh..." Starlight blinked, waiting for Grenada's indication that this was actually the place they were supposed to be.

Grenada nodded. "Kids, this is Rickshaw, owner of this... house and generous member of the Spirit of Sosa. Rickshaw, these are Starlight and Jamjars. The former is an important pony I've been tasked with looking after until I can find Braen and get her word on what to do with her. The latter is a refugee who somehow wandered down into the tunnels and needs to be sent on her way so she can be reunited with her family. Until then, requesting permission to come in. It's hot outside."

"It is very, very hot," Rickshaw agreed, dragging his hairy visage back inside. "Come in, come in!"

Rickshaw's house was far better lit than Starlight's expectation of a clandestine meeting location. Its large, central room held an array of couches that were all far too colorful and all looked like they had seen far better days, with several dozen fans placed in high open windows, hung from the low ceiling or even placed on the floor, all set at full blast. The couches were completely occupied, entirely by stallions, and the two things the fans failed to drown out were their voices and their scent.

Starlight put a hoof to her nose as she edged further in, conscious of the massive pile of weapons in the middle that Grenada quickly added her stock to. The mare was bowing, ponies calling greetings from all around, and Starlight almost thought she would miss Jamjars making a curious move on the pile... almost.

With her purple telekinesis, Grenada dragged Jamjars back by the scruff of her neck. "Bezier!" she barked. "This is a refugee who got separated from her family. Go take her to an evacuation official who can get her on a caravan that will reunite her with them at Grand Acorn."

"Hey!" Jamjars squeaked, shooting her a baleful look. "Leggo! I can take care of myself!"

Grenada closed her eyes, dangling the filly. "And be careful; she's stubborn."

A lanky stallion wearing a striped shirt sprung up, saluting, and took Jamjars in his own aura, marching for the door. "I'll do that, miss!"

Starlight watched with a tinge of mixed unease and fascination. She was unsure what appalled her more: the stallion's fashion sense, or that he was wearing anything period in that weather. Another part of her pondered if it was really safe to leave Jamjars in the care of a lone, unknown Spirit stallion.

"Don't worry," Grenada reassured, apparently reading her trepidation. "Bezier's loyal. She'll be safe with him. He's had plenty of times to prove it before, and has always come through."

"I'm more worried about him." Starlight bit back a frown, and her tail flicked once. She was familiar with how much Jamjars hated being confined, and Copsewood would be a frighteningly easy place to camouflage oneself in even without a spell. But eventually, the tingling of being watched by an entire crowd forced Jamjars out of her head, and she turned, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

"So... who is she again?" An obese stallion taking up half a couch pointed. "I can't help but notice you didn't send her off with the refugee."

Grenada sighed. "Braen asked me to look out for her herself. I'm doing that until she gets here. Has she been here yet?"

The fat stallion shrugged, his chins jiggling with the movement. "She ain't and she hasn't, lady dude. As far as I know, we're just waiting here until the call goes out to head to Blueleaf for the rendezvous. You think the big boss mare is going to come here herself? I mean, you know better than me. But I figured she had more important stuff to do."

Another stallion chimed in. "Do we even need to wait for her? I'm sick of waiting! The day we fight the Stone District has been far too long in coming!"

"Yeah!" another stallion roared. "Down with the upper districts! I've been waiting ages to put those idiots in their places!" He beat his chest, one hoof wrapped around a drink.

"That had better not be what I think it is!" Grenada's eyes narrowed dangerously as she seized the glass in her aura, floated it up to her nose, sniffed it, and poured it out the window. "Ugh! This is the day we need to be at our very best in the name of protecting our home and everything we want to bring back, and every last pony needs to be at their best performance! We can't let a single one of us tarnish Braen's vision by not giving it their all, and turning your brain off is not the way to do that!"

The stallion smirked. "Please. The boss respects you, and we respect you too and all, but aren't you a little green to say that? Some of us are old enough to remember the past we're bringing back. You can order us around with logistics and stuff, but don't tell us we can't celebrate when you don't even know what we're celebrating."

"You..." Grenada's eyes flashed. "You're right." She backed down. "I overstepped. I'm sorry. But please remember the difference between celebrating, and celebrating prematurely."

Another stallion rolled his eyes. "Now you're talking like we aren't going to win!"

"I would never!" Grenada hissed. "But that doesn't mean we can't lose if we don't try!"

In a nearby corner, Starlight crouched, grateful to have the room's eyes off her, yet suddenly filled with doubt about whether Shinespark was overestimating the nobility of her prized fighting forces.