//------------------------------// // Ch.14 Night of Fire, Tooth, and Claw // Story: The Epic of a Diamond Dog // by Ravencrofte //------------------------------// The sun was almost gone before Honey Apple called a halt. With a collective sigh, the caravan slowed and finally stopped. The wagons were circled and fires lit. Some took the opportunity to talk to their friends, while others simply flopped into the warm sand. I found a warm mound of sand and laid down. Only a moment passed before I was attacked by an energetic fuzzball. “Hi, Ember,” she chirped, jumping up and down on my back. “I missed you. What did you do all day?” I thought about it for a moment. “I marched, I marched some more, and I continued marching. What about you, Kitty Hawk? What did you do all day?” Kitty Hawk rubbed her chin in thought. “Let me see: I ate a lot of cookies, I drank a lot of water, and I farted. I also pooped and peed. Or was that before I ate the cookies?” “I didn’t need to know that,” I said. “You said you wanted to know what I did all day.” Grinning, I said, “I did, didn’t I?” “Dinner! Dinner!” echoed the cry. We followed the cry and took our seats. Prayers were said and the food passed around. Then some pony popped the top on a keg of cider. A mug was placed before me and filled. I nodded my thanks. The cider made one pony particularly brazen. She grabbed a lute and leapt into the center. Playing a joyous tune, she began to sing: (Original song) Sunny is a handsome colt, and asked me for to wed And I would marry Sunny but me father up and said I’m sorry to tell you daughter, whatyour mother never knew, For Sunny is a colt of mine, and so is kin to you Then a chorus joined in: The colt that I will marry, will be handsome, strong, and tall And He will sing my praises, and be at my beck and call The colt that I will marry, will keep me satiated And every night in bed I’ll pray, that we are not related Ilium in a handsome colt, and so is Coldy Jack So too is Micki, Gritty, and his younger brother Mac But father was a busy stud, and so far his seed did spread He told me they’re my brothers all, so save my maidenhead The colt that I will marry, will be handsome, strong, and tall And He will sing my praises, and be at my beck and call The colt that I will marry, will keep me satiated And every night in bed I’ll pray, that we are not related You never saw a lass so sad and sorry as I was All the colts in town were kin, and me father was the cause If I should die a single maid for dad’s adulterous sport I think I’ll go to mother for his wanderings to report Now mother said didn’t I teach ye to forgive and to forget Your father sowed his wild oats, and on that ye shouldn’t fret Your father may be father to all of the lads, but still He’s not the one who sired you, so marry who you will! The colt that I will marry, will be handsome, strong, and tall And He will sing my praises, and be at my beck and call And since me mother thwittled with a sailor come from sea I’ll find myself a handsome colt who’ll not be kin to me The ending of the song was immediately followed by a thundering of hooves. There were more than a few faces in various shades of blush. Kitty Hawk, sitting next to me with a puzzled look, turned and asked, “Um, Ember, what did they mean when…” I cut her off. “Big rocks. Really big rock!” She started, “But she said..” “Fillies, colts, dandelions.” “You’re not going to answer me, are you.” “Nope,” I answered shamelessly. From out of the night sky came a blue pegasus. He landed next to us, sending up a cloud of dust. Many ponies shielded their food from the cloud, glaring daggers at the interrupter. I recognized him as the one called Clear Skies. He marched to Honey Apple and saluted smartly, saying, “Ma’am, I bring terrible news.” Honey Apple leapt to her hooves. A hush descended over the camp. Even the bugs and night critters were silent. “What is it?” demanded Honey Apple. “What threatens the caravan?” Clear Skies answered with one word: “Rats!” ______ The blue pegasus led our small war party to a short bluff. He motioned to Honey Apple, who was working her way to the edge. She poked her head up for several minutes. Once satisfied, she motioned me to join her. Keeping my belly in the sand, I crawled up next to her. Then Honey Apple pointed out what she had been looking at: a crop of rocks with a sizable hole leading into the earth. Light flickered from inside its depths. “What is that?” I asked. “A Rat hole,” said Honey Apple, disdain dripping from her words. Her nostrils flared as if she could smell it from this distance. Scents of hatred and fear wafted off of her in equal measures. “We have rats back home. They make a wonderful snack when fried and dipped in honey. I don’t see what the problem is.” “Were they big rats? Really big rats?” she asked. I still gave her a blank look and she pointed with her hoof. I followed it to the entrance of the cave. “There, at the entrance of the cave. Do you see those two brown lumps?” I looked. There were two “lumps” next to the hole that I had taken as boulders. Then one of them moved. It was about half the size of a pony, with beady little eyes and wire tail. I gulped. “That is a big rat,” Honey Apple motioned me to follow her back down to the others. “Technically, they are known as Sand Shrews, but those who wander the desert called them Rats. They are nasty little vermin with a poisonous bite. They eat everything in an area and then scurry to a new hole. What makes them even worse is that they’re smart.” Once we rejoined the others, Honey Apple pulled everyone into a huddle. “Who first spotted them?” she asked. A pegasus raised his hoof. “You get a double ration of cider, good job.” His joyful cry nearly broke our cover. Everypony glared at him, and he notably shrank with a sheepish grin. Everyone turned back to Honey Apple. “Now listen up: I want everyone in full battle-rattle. The caravan will travel until day break, one pegasus in front as a scout, one pulling up the rear, and the rest flying in low circles around us. I want earth ponies armed with swords and shields; it’s going to be close quarters. Unicorns in the center with Liquid Fire. Understood?” “Yes, ma’am,” they answered in unison. The ponies raced back towards camp, leaving Honey Apple and me to catch up. As we jogged through the cool night, I asked, “How do the Rats threaten ponies? Are they that great of a threat?” “They’ve been known to attack caravans and take live ponies back to their holes,” Honey Apple explained. “The sooner we are away from here, the better.” As if thinking the same thing, we quickened our pace. The camp was already moving at a brisk pace when we returned. The strongest ponies moved in the center, hauling three or four wagons each, freeing up the rest for guard duty. Everyone was in full armor: helmet, breast, belly, back, and greaves. Thick cotton undercoats kept everyone warm, as well as keeping any clunking to a minimum. We moved to the front of the column, where Fluorescent Nightingale was the only pony hauling a single wagon. A familiar head was poking out from underneath the canvas. I jogged over to her. “How are you holding up, Kitty Hawk?” I asked. The little pony grinned at me. “Are we under attack?! This is so exciting!” I made a face. “Are the rest of the foals in there? Maybe you should stay inside.” “Nah,” she said. “Some of the young ones got pretty cranky from the sudden move and all. Ms. Nightingale gave them a potion to help them sleep. But not me. I want to see all the action. This is just like our escape from the Dog Lands.” “Yeah,” I agreed, uncertain about whether to hug her close or hide her away for safety. It was Honey Apple who interrupted the moment. Behind her came a unicorn with armor and weapons held aloft by magic. She said, “Ember, I want you to fall out and put these one, then join me up front.” I pointed to one item in particular, raising my upper lip in disgust. “I’m not using that,” I said. Honey Apple seemed to read my mind. “You will. As your Clan Leader, I order you to use a shield.” “As my what?” “As your Clan Leader. You fought me in combat and lost. Then you submitted to my leadership by taking a pledge. That makes me your Clan Leader. Now use the shield.” She was right. By all the laws of the Diamond Dog, she was my Clan Leader. I growled my displeasure but took the equipment. The armor was slightly big but fit well enough. I tightened the buckles down as far as they would go. There was my sword along with a longer, straight-bladed sword that tapered to a point. They got attached to my belt. I gave the spear some experimental swings and thrusts and found it to my liking. Finally, I slid the shield into my arm. It was a simple wooden round shield with a metal rim, providing protection from my shoulder to my knees. A set of greaves covered the rest. Honey Apple gave me a once-over when I rejoined her in the front. “Not bad,” she said, “I’m glad to see it fits you.” I asked, “Do you always keep a set of Diamond Dog armor and weapons on hand?” “You’re not the first Dog ally we’ve had,” she explained. That statement left me with a flood of questions. But, as we moved under the night sky, me on two legs and the rest on four, it was probably the wrong time to ask. A blue pegasus pony, the one called Clear Skies, swopped in low. “We’ve got Rats up ahead,” he called down. “Damn Celestia’s perky tits,” she cursed, shaking a hoof to the sky. Several ponies stared at the mane. Honey Apple ignored them, and instead addressed Clear Skies, saying, “Take a dozen pegasi and try to whittle down their number before we get there.” Clear Skies saluted and flew into the night. Honey Apple leaned over to Fluorescent Nightingale. “I want Liquid Fire up front. Pass the word along.” Several unicorns made their way to us, carrying several large bags. I was handed one of the smaller bags. Inside were many bottles filled with a red liquid. Each bottle had a cork stopper with a string attached. “Liquid Fire,” explained Honey Apple. “The bottles are near indestructible while the cork’s in place. Once you pull the cork out, the liquid mixes with air and becomes highly explosive. You throw it and ‘Kaboom!’ It’s great for flushing Rats out of their holes.” “I’ll keep it in mind,” I said as I tied the bag to my belt. Up above, several pegasi dodged and weaved. Crude missiles flew through the night, missed the pegasi, only to came down on us. They bounded harmlessly off the magical shields held aloft. I snatched up an arrow and examined it closely: it consisted of a less-then-straight stick with a glass tip and and feather fletchings, all bound together with leather lacing. The little “tinks” on the overhead shields intensified, turning into a continuous hail. “Damn these Rats,” cursed Honey Apple. The caravan was slowing down. I asked, “Let me charge ahead and clear the road?” The mare nodded in approval. “Go forth and do what you can, but take a scout.” She called down a bright, almost neon green pegasus. “Minty, I want you to scout ahead for Ember and direct him towards the archers that are giving us problems.” Minty snapped a salute and zoomed skywards. I ran after her, my shield held aloft for protection. Shortly thereafter, Minty returned. She pointed just left of the road, towards a shallow ditch. “In there,” she said. I found a dozen Rats. They screamed in terror and fled, but I was upon them, hacking and slashing among their number until nothing moved. Minty came to hover next to me. She looked like she was about to be sick but swallowed it back down. “Come on, there are more pockets of these things,” she said. I followed her. We found more, and more, and more. Behind us, a bolt of light shot up into the air and exploded into a brilliant flash. “Oh sweet Celestia,” uttered my pegasus companion. She started to fly back. “Wait,” I called to her. “What does that mean?” “They need help!” called Minty as she zoomed ahead. I dashed after her. The caravan had halted. Surrounding it was a tidal wave of brown bodies that threatened to drown the thin line of ponies. Bottles flew overhead, crashing amongst the Rats and sending up gouts of flame. Rats burned and sizzled, shrieking as they cooked in their own juices. Pegasi rained down arrows. Even more flew up. Somewhere up above, a pony cried in pain. I charged, my long stride eating up the distance. There was a mischief of Rats, all firing arrows. Drawing a bottle of Fire, I pulled the cork and threw. It shattered against a brown body, spraying fiery liquid in all directions. They scattered, streaking flames and smoke, like comets in the night sky. Weary eyes glanced back at their burning companions. Whiskers twitched in the fire light. They stared into the night, searching, seeking, but blinded by the barrage of pyrotechnics. I hefted my spear and took aim. With a great heave, the weapon few into the mass of bodies. It impaled something that screamed and threshed. They pointed and gestured. Raising my muzzle to the sky, I howled. The long and clear notes heralded across the great expanse. I called to my ancestors. I called the battle cries of old. I called for the blood of my enemies and for none to be left alive. All the Rats turned to face me. Many fumbled their arrows in an attempt to notch. Those in front tried to brace their short spears. I brought my shield into place and held it close. My sword appeared in my paw. Peering over the rim, I eyed my prey. Nothing moved. I charged, closing the distance, bellowing my ancestral battle cry. Arrows clattered off my shield or flew overhead. The first rank tried to retreat over those behind. Then I plowed into them. Rats went flying. More were trampled under foot. I swung my blade in all directions and always found something soft and squishy yielding to it. “Incoming!” boomed a voice. I instinctively ducked down and raised my shield. Flames exploded all around. Then great magical blasts swept the sand. The earth writhed and shook, swallowing both the living and the dead. I turned left and right, but found only corpses. “Ember!” I whirled around and raised my sword. There was a bloody, exhausted, but determined looking Honey Apple. She said, “They took Fluorescent Nightingale.” ___ Ice ran through my veins. Suddenly my legs gave way, and I collapsed to the sand. My limbs hung limply at my side. “How?” I asked. Then, in a burst of panic, “How about everyone else? What about Kitty Hawk?!” “The ground collapsed under the lead cart, and she was dragged into their tunnel.” Upon seeing my worried look, Honey Apple added, “Kitty Hawk is fine.” I followed Honey Apple back to the caravan. The remains of Rats were strewn in all directions. The place stank of death and charred meat. The caravan had been drawn into a circle, with the wounded laid out in the center. Many ponies were wounded, with others attending to them. Honey Apple was announcing, “The poison the Rats put on their weapons is making the wounded sick. Administer the antidote and force them to drink lots of water. As soon as the most critical are stable, we are going to move out.” I rounded on Honey Apple. “What about Nightingale?” I demanded. Honey Apple glared at me, but then softened her gaze. “We have too many wounded. I can’t spare the ponies, in good fighting shape, to go and get her. I don’t like it any more then you, but I’ve got to think of the whole caravan. The sooner we are out of here, the better.” “I’ll get her back,” I said, hardly able to believe the words leaving my own mouth. But now I was committed. “Get the caravan moving; we’ll meet you at sunrise.” “That’s crazy!” whinnied Honey Apple. “They took her back to their Rat Hole. There will be thousands of Rats in there. How do you expect to win?” “I don’t know,” I confessed, starting the long trek to the Rat Hole. Then thinking quickly, I added “but she makes Kitty Hawk smile. I’ve got to try.” __________ “This is crazy,” I muttered to myself as I crawled right up to the Rat Hole. “This is foolhardy, stupid, and crazy.” But here I was. I paused to peek over a boulder. There was no one guarding the entrance. Only an open expanse of earth separated me from the cave. I looked all around, tried to peer into darkened shadows, sniffed the air, and rotated my head left and right while listening for the tiniest of sounds: an owl hooting, the wind rustling the sand, crickets chirping. But inside the cave came voices: squeaks, squeals, and yips in reply. Dim light danced just inside. And smells: of filth, rot, and unwashed bodies. I made a dash for the cave, kicking up sand in my wake, and stopped just inside the entrance. My heart pounded in my ears. The night was still. Into its depths I traveled, along the floor and walls worn smooth by countless paws. Green light bloomed out of swaths of glowing fungi sprouting from cracks in the rock. Now came the steady drip of water and sticky humidity. I followed the path ever deeper, the walls getting ever narrower. Twice I had to squish through passages never designed for any dog. My shield and equipment scraped against stone in deafening shrieks. Still nothing came. Nothing challenged me. Then the path widened into a great expanse: fungi clung to every surface, more numerous than stars, flooding the whole room with a green hue. Here and there jewels sparkled from the rock face. Light fractured and danced. The whole scene was eerily beautiful. Below me, with the path descending along its wall, was a cavern so massive that it could fit half of my village back home inside it. Numerous smaller tunnels branched off from this cavern and descended even deeper, but it was the occupants that caught my eye. The room was filled with Rats of every shape and size. They scurried, legions upon legions, out of one tunnel and down another. Each moved with purpose and determination. The pitter-patter of many feet drowned out the soft thuds of my own paws. There, in the center of the room, sitting above the scurry, was a great Rat on a throne of skulls. He was taller than me, as wide as a door, with more rolls and curves than a river. And he was singing: (dum da da, da dum da da) Rats we are and Rats we be Live in darkness, all we see No food in belly Crying young. We all grow fungi from our dung No land, no riches, seed to sow Given ground where nothing grow No food in belly Starving young Lot of rat, we all die young Now Rats forever, Rats we die Only dream to touch the sky No food in belly Dying young Killing ponies such great fun We steal and bite and kill what may None do care what rats may say No food in bellies Lying Sun Cursed by Queen to roast and run Mischief rat is all you’ll see Scoundrels, thieves, all we can be The last note echoed into the darkness. The King stood and took a bow. The rats carried on. Now The King raised his spear, a very wicked-looking thing with many barbs, hooks, and points, and slammed the butt into the ground three times. The whole mischief stopped and looked. “Bring forth the pony!” bellowed the Rat King. His subjects scurried to obey. Soon they emerged out of the far tunnel with Fluorescent Nightingale in tow. She was covered with wounds and cuts but stood tall. A chain hung around her neck, each link echoing its neighbor: clink, clink, clink. “Ah,” said the Rat King, looking down his long narrow snout at her. “Welcome, my little pony,” he sneered. Fluorescent Nightingale inclined her head. “The pleasure is all mine, but I do not know your name, oh great Rat.” The Rat King spread his arms wide. “I am The Rat King, ruler of this mischief and head scoundrel of the desert colonies.” During this exchange, I crept down the path. Everyone's attention was on Nightingale and The King. Once at the bottom, I hunkered down in the deepest shadow and waited. Fluorescent Nightingale once again inclined her head. “Indeed you are the biggest and strongest of all those gathered here, nothing less than a king. As the ruler of your kin, I ask for leave to rejoin my own.” The Rat King threw back his head and laughed. His great belly shook and his body heaved with the effort. The noise shook the room, dislodging dust from the walls. Many Rats joined in until the sound shook dust from the walls. Once finished, the King held up his hand and the room quieted once again. With one finger, he flicked away a solitary tear. Now he faced Fluorescent Nightingale with a toothy grin. “It’s funny to hear an enemy beg for its life,” he said. Stepping off his throne, he waddled over. Nightingale shifted nervously. The chains around her neck answered in turn. The King continued, “Isn’t it funny that not one of my warriors begged for their lives while your pony set them alight?” “That was battle,” protested Nightingale. “But I take it that the battle is over. Contact my caravan. I’m sure they would be happy to make a trade for my safe passage.” The Rat king turned and snatched a skull from his throne. He presented it to Fluorescent Nightingale. The skull had belonged to a unicorn, now nothing more then white bone. “He begged for his life too,” said the Rat King wistfully, “but in the end he was too delicious to be set free.” Fluorescent Nightingale retreated from the skull. Her nostril flared, and her eyes went wide. All around, Rats squeaked and cheered. “Time for you to die!” announced the King as he raised his spear. “No!” I bellowed, sword and shield at the ready. The Rats scattered, vanishing down their holes. Only the Rat King stayed, blinking in stupefied amazement. The drip drip of water filled the void. Skinny snouts poked cautiously out of holes, whiskers twitching. I tightened the grip on my shield. “Devil Dog,” said the Rat King, breaking the silence. “I saw your exploits on the battlefield. The night would have been ours if not for you.” Now he pointed the spear at me, “I should kill you first because of how many warriors you cost us.” “Just try it,” I challenged him. “Rats!” called the King, and thousands of furry bodies stood at the ready. I took a hesitant step back. The bag on my belt jingled and clinked. Looking down, an idea came to me. I grinned at the Rat King. Reaching into the bag, I produced a bottle of Liquid Fire. “I’ll send you and your mischief to the after life,” I said, tossing the bottle up and down. Rats hissed and shrieked. The King’s eyes followed the bottle hypnotically. “How about it, King? Give me the pony, or I’ll burn you all”. “And yourself with us,” challenged the Rat King. “You don’t seem the type.” “Try me.” “Rats!” called the King. “Better yet,” I said, my mind racing. “I challenge you to a duel. Winner walks free.” The Rat King watched me some more. “So be it,” he said. “Just, for all our sakes, put that bottle away.” I started to say that it was fine and it wouldn’t explode until the string is pulled but then stopped. Maybe they didn’t know. Regardless, I put the bottle away. “Rats!” said the King. “Bring me my armor!” The mischief rushed to his aid. They scraped, scrambled, huffed, and puffed until he mostly fit into his “armor”. The mismatched pieces, consisting of arrowheads and scraps, were held together by mail rings and leather straps. A rusted, shapeless helm was crammed onto the King’s head. Task complete, the rats returned to their holes. The Rat King faced me, now closely resembling a metal pear. “You,” said the King, pointing at Florescent Nightingale, “against the wall. One glow of your horn, and my rats will kill you.” Nightingale complied, her chains echoing her movements. “Now where were we?” started the King. I charged. The King met me with his spear, and his attack glanced off my shield. The Rat King tried to turn away, but my sword cut through leather cord, and a chunk of armor clattered to the floor. The King caught me with his counterweight, and I staggered back. He lunged, and I parried. Our weapons sent sparks into the darkness. We circled, and again our weapons clashed. “Come and get me!” huffed the Rat King. I sneered. “I just need to wait until you wear yourself out.” The Rat King cursed. He swung his spear, and I ducked, then charged him with my shield. I slammed into him, only to rebound back. The Rat King started towards me, spear up high. “It’s time for you to die.” He lunged. I raised my shield. The spear sank into the wood and held firm. I tugged one way, he tugged the other. The spear stayed. The Rat King growled in frustration. “I know, right,” I said and pushed hard. That got me nowhere. Now the King pushed. I found myself losing ground. Ditching my shield, I drew my second sword. The Rat King furiously shook his spear, trying to dislodge my shield. I grinned and rushed forward. The Rat King swung his improved club. I shouldered the blow and began hacking at his armor: metal links broke, straps severed, gaps in his armor appeared. The King turned and fled. I saw an opening and brought my sword down in a long arc. I severed his tail, and blood went spurting high. The severed member flopped on the floor. It wiggled and twitched, blood pooling around it. I looked around for its owner, but the King was gone. Chink, chink, chink. Fluorescent Nightingale stood next me, looking at the floppy, limp limb. She said, “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting a rescue.” “We’re not out of here yet,” I said. “Not without these.” She gripped the spear in her magic and yanked it free. She threw it at my feet. “Take that and the shield. Give me your swords, and I’ll cover our rear.” We clambered our way up the path, keeping watch on the void below. Down below, the ground seethed and writhed with the mass of brown bodies. They squeaked and yipped, then as one started after us with the gnashing of teeth. “Move it!” I shoved Nightingale up the tunnel. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “Ending this,” I said, pulled the sack off my belt. Grabbing a handful of strings, I yanked out the corks. “You’ll kill them all! That’s not the pony way!” cried Nightingale. “I’m no pony,” I said, and tossed the bag. We ran: up the stone passage, squeezed through narrow openings, onwards and onwards. Rolling black smoke billowed up, clinging to the ceiling and giving the air a chemical taste. Its was getting harder to breathe. I found myself having to stop and cough. The smoke was only getting worse, burning my eyes and throat. I felt along the wall, pulling myself onwards.The smoke closed in. I grabbed the stone for support, doing everything I could to remain upright. Then my legs gave out and I fell, helmet bouncing painfully off the stone. I lay there, hacking and wheezing. Darkness closed in around me. Yet, up ahead, a glow of light appeared. It cut through the smoke and haze. Enveloped in a magical aura, I was yanked unceremoniously up the passage. __________ Slowly, the sun crept above the land. It cast long tendrils across the sand, cutting through shadows and bringing all within its gaze. The golden rays quickly warmed the ground, promising another hot day. A circle of wagons now occupied a large depression. The exhausted ponies lay in the sand. They slept, seeking a few hours of rest until the heat made that impossible. Only a few were awake, one of them being a white filly pegasus. Kitty Hawk sat and watched the distant hills. Her tail flipped anxiously back and forth, betraying her worried state. She sat, unmoving, waiting for my return. Her ears barely twisted at the sound of crunching sand. Honey Apple sat down beside her. Silence rained. A bird chirped. Honey Apple stifled a yawn. Finally, she said, “It’s time to go to sleep, little one.” “I need to wait for Ember,” said Kitty Hawk, still staring straight ahead. “He’s coming.” Her words rang with unwavering conviction. “How do you know that?” asked Honey Apple. “He still has to get me back to my parents.” Honey Apple gave the filly a questioning look. “Get you back to your parents? Were you snatched away?” Finally Kitty Hawk turned from her staring contest with the landscape. “I got wounded during a raid and left behind. Ember feels responsible for what he did to me. He’s trying to make amends.” “What he did to you?” Honey Apple couldn't hide an edge of alarm from creeping into her voice. “Did he hurt you? Did he, um, ah…” Kitty Hawk gave a wicked grin. She seemed to take enjoyment in watching the older pony squirm. Finally, she confessed, “He hit me with a stone and broke my wing. I don’t think he knows that I know. In some ways I’m glad it was him. I haven’t met any other dogs that are as caring, loyal, and doggedly determined as he.” Honey Apple sighed with relief. Kitty Hawk returned to watching the landscape. Honey Apple sat quietly beside her. The sun crept higher. “There they are,” said Kitty Hawk and she spread her wings. “Where?” asked Honey Apple, peering for any indicators. “I’ve got pegasus eyes. Or did you forget?” Kitty Hawk flew into the sky, leaving a frustrated Honey Apple galloping after her. __________ My only warning was a rush of air and a loud “Ember!” before a white fluff ball wrapped herself around my face. “Hermrhmm,” I said. Kitty Hawk released my muzzle. “What was that?” she asked. “I said, ‘it’s good to see you too.’” Kitty Hawk gave me the biggest puppy eyes before throwing herself around my neck. “I missed you.” A winded Honey Apple joined our little group. She had to stop and catch her breath before saying, “You made it. I had my doubts.” Fluorescent Nightingale stomped forwards, coming snout to snout with her leader. “No thanks to you,” she said. Honey Apple hurriedly backpedaled, tripped, and fell on her rump. “Nothing personal,” the mare spouted, trying to hold the irate unicorn at arms’ distance. “I had to get the caravan out of danger.” “I could have used a rescue!” “We had too many wounded. And no one died, by the way.” Nightingale pushed forwards, forcing Honey Apple onto her back. “I would have died and been rat food if Ember hadn’t come rescued me.” “I’m sorry, okay? There wasn’t any other choice.” “Fine,” said Nightingale, “but don’t expect me to come running when you get wounded.” She stomped off. Kitty Hawk took the moment to give me a good once-over. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “You smell like smoke and wet dog,” she said. “What’s this red dried crusty stuff? Is it katchup?” “Let’s call it that,” I lied shamelessly. “You need a bath.” “Thanks,” I said, following in line behind Honey Apple as she led the way back to the caravan.