10. The Battle of Elmwood
Hoofsteps from behind called for her attention. Rarity turned and walked back to the front of the cage just as their guard tossed a canteen inside. “There,” he growled before slumping down against the cage. “Now quit your whining.”
The mare reached the water first, but Rarity gestured for her to wait. With a look of uncertainty, the mare gave the canteen to Rarity who seemed to struggle loudly with the cap. “Well?” she demanded.
The guard groaned and glanced up. “Well what?” He let out another groan when Rarity held out the canteen. Muttering curses under his breath, he loosened the cap and all but threw the container at her.
“Thank you,” Rarity said, ignoring the violent act. She brought the water up to her snout and wrinkled her nose. “Where’s the lemon?”
The guard made a sound that was something along the lines of an anguished sob and a reactionary howl of pain. His entire face was elongated as he crushed his head with his hooves, and those yellowed teeth of his were bared as he gnashed at the air.
With a prolonged sigh, Rarity gave the canteen over to the mare next to her and nodded. The mare took the water to the shaking stallion in the corner and held it to his lips as Rarity turned to their beleaguered sentry. “Well, I suppose that will have to do. I have to say, however, this has all been very disappointing.”
“Disappointing?” The stallion scoffed and turned away. “I’ll show you disappointing. Darn lousy, good for nothing, no breaks, in the cold,” he muttered, more to himself than to anypony directly. Again, his forelegs were crossed and pressed against his chest as he started to pout. “Standing here all night, lousy scheduling, only four hours my ass.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What now?” the guard demanded, pressing his forehead into the center of his hoof.
“Well, putting aside your use of racially charged vulgarity in front of an impressionable child,” Rarity began, “I couldn’t help but notice that you do seem awfully tired. Those rings around your eyes, they’re hideous. And don’t get me started on your complexion. Have you really been up all night? Because it certainly shows.”
“Maybe I have been,” the scrawny stallion grumbled. “Not like I had much of a choice. Why do you care anyways?”
“Well, it would explain your less than stellar service, and as such, I suppose I can excuse some of that. Though I must say, it is rather odd.” Rarity hummed as she propped a hoof under her chin. “From what I’ve seen, your organization doesn’t appear to be suffering from a lack in horsepower. There were quite a number of you earlier. Couldn’t one of your comrades have acted as our guard while you took a break?”
Their guard snorted. “Yeah, so you’d think. So I’d think too, cause that’s what I was promised. Somepony was supposed to come and replace me last night, that’s what I was told, but did anypony show? No, and when I tried to complain, I got shouted at for—“ His own timely yawn interrupted him. “—leaving my post. Lousy bunch of horse apples.”
“How horrible.” Rarity shook her head. “The way you’ve been treated by your own friends is completely, utterly appalling.”
“Friends? Ha!” The stallion let out a bark of laughter. “Sure, let’s go with that.”
“Well whatever you call yourselves, this isn’t right,” Rarity said. “After everything you’ve already done for this ungrateful group, the least you deserve is some rest.”
“Oh believe you me, missy, I know that, but what can you do?” He sighed and gave a little shrug. “I’m stuck here, and there’s nopony coming to get me.”
“Then, if nopony will give you a break, I say you should seize one yourself.” Rarity clapped her front hooves together. “Yes, that’s it! Go and march into your bed and sleep those hours you’ve earn, and if anypony questions you, you let them know that you’re just taking what you were promised.”
“Heh, yeah right.” The guard rolled his eyes, but only after they had wistfully wandered toward the collection of tents. “I mean, what would the boss say if he found out?”
“That you are a stallion who knows how to take initiative and to stand up for himself and isn’t afraid to seize what he wants like a true bandit?” Rarity offered. “If I was your leader and I saw one of my subordinates taking charge like that, I’d have made them my second-in-command in a heartbeat.”
“You think so? I don’t know.”
“Look, I’ve only been aquatinted with your leader for a short while, but it’s obvious that he respects strength, and this is a perfect opportunity to show him just how strong—“ Rarity jabbed her hoof directly at the center of the thin stallion’s chest. “—you are. This is your chance to rise up in the ranks. You don’t want to be stuck with guard duty your entire plundering career, do you?”
“Well, I mean, no,” the guard said quietly, kicking at the dirt. “But I can’t just leave you all here unguarded.”
“Oh, pft.” Rarity waved dismissively. “Why not? We’re stuck in a cage, with no means out or anywhere to go. Do you honestly think anything is going to happen if you just took your eyes off of us for an hour? Think of what you have to gain. Are you really going to let this opportunity slip away just so you can keep doing a job you hate?”
“No. No, you’re right!” The guard jumped up to his hooves and stuck out his chest. “I’m going to show the boss and everypony else that I’m not going to be walked over. I’m no doormat. I’ll show them. Yeah, yeah! I’m taking my break, and I’m taking it now, and nopony, oh yeah, nopony is going to stop me!”
The little filly joined Rarity in giving their guard a small cheer as he marched off with his head held high and his lanky legs skipping every fourth or so step. When he had disappeared into one of the tents, Rarity hurried to the back of the cage and looked over the knots holding the bars together.
“What was that about?” the mare whispered. “What are you trying to do?”
“Darling, what does it look like I’m doing?” Rarity asked as she grabbed a loose end of rope with her mouth and pulled while her hooves fumbled with the knot. “Somepony please keep an eye out and let me know when another bandit walks by.”
“Wait, you’re—“
“Escaping, yes.” Rarity released the rope and glared at the binding she had been struggling with. The knot had been far more sophisticated than she had imagined, and her attempts to undo it by hoof were only making it tighter. Untying the rope with magic would have taken her mere seconds, and that’s if she handicapped herself by closing her eyes. She’d have even just settled for the horn itself as a means of filing through the rope and bypassing the knot entirely.
Well, she didn’t have her horn, but the dagger in her cloak would work just as well, if not better. Rarity carefully removed the weapon from the inner pocket and its sheath and immediately applied the blade to the bindings. A more serrated edge would have been preferable, but after a few slices, the rope came apart. The bar wobbled, and after Rarity had cut through the second knot, it dropped to the ground with a soft thud.
Rarity repeated the act until two more bars joined the first in the grass. There was now a large enough gap for a grown pony to get through without much difficulty, which after a moment of silent deliberation, Rarity concluded would suffice. “Come on then,” she whispered to her fellow captives. “Time to go.”
The filly went first, after she recognized that the distance she’d have to jump down to reach the ground wasn’t as high as it appeared. Then it was Rarity’s turn, and once she was safely out of the cage, Rarity helped the mare in moving the hurt stallion through. He had to lean against one of them for support, but at least he could stand and walk.
The mare was the last one out, and once her hooves touched the ground, they hurried off into the woods as fast as the stallion’s injuries would allow, with the role of leader thrusted upon Rarity as the others followed her. Not that she had a direction in mind. For now, they just needed to get some distance between them and the bandits, then they could figure out where to go.
It wasn’t the most thoughtful plan, Rarity had to admitted, but getting away from those murderous ruffians was her top priority, even if it meant the risk of being lost in some unfamiliar forest. Hopefully, her new companions knew their way around here better than she did.
The stallion stumbling behind suddenly started to cough and stutter. “Wait,” the mare supporting him called out. “We need a moment, please.”
Rarity turned back and frowned. The bandit camp was still in view. They didn’t have a moment to rest, not when in that single moment they could be seen and recaptured. Rarity couldn’t imagine such a display of insolence would go unpunished nor was she in any mood to find out what cruelties the bandits had in store. “We don’t have much time,” she said, her voice hushed just in case. “Anypony could walk by and notice the empty cage.”
“I’m not leaving him behind,” the mare declared as the older pony continued to wheeze. The filly seemed to bounce between her family and Rarity before rushing to her father’s side.
Rarity sighed. “Very well then.” She made her way to the family of three and offered her shoulder. “If we both support him, we might be able to carry him.”
The mare just stared, wasting precious seconds. Rarity’s patience thinned under the weight of her growing panic, and she snapped with a sharp, “Hurry!”
“R-right.” The mare moved and hobbled the coughing stallion over to Rarity. “I, this is, you’ve, thank you,” she managed to sputter as she draped one of the stallion’s forelimbs over Rarity’s shoulders.
They had only taken a couple of steps when the stallion moaned and started to thrash, forcing them to stop. He removed himself from the two mares and pushed away any attempts to get him back into position. “No, can’t go,” he mumbled. “Not yet. Need. Our wares.”
“Father, please,” the mare pleaded. “We can start over. Let’s just go.”
“No!” he screamed, brushing away the mare’s hoof. Without any additional warning, the stallion suddenly broke into a gallop, charging back toward the camp at a speed that ignored his age, his injuries, and the danger of his apparent destination.
The mare had recovered from her stunned state first, and she rushed after him, crying and pleading for him to stop. The filly, her eyes wide, had turned to her sister for instruction, and when the mare had ran off, the filly turned to Rarity.
Rarity’s own mind raced as it struggled to analyze the sudden developments. Split seconds were all she had, forcing her to decide on a split second decision. “Wait here,” she ordered the filly before running after the other two. They had a bit of a head start, but maybe, if she sprinted, if the mare caught up and slowed the stallion down, if whatever adrenaline that was driving the stallion to ignore his wounds ran out, if she could just reach him and bring him to his sense, maybe the situation could still be salvaged and they could still make their escape.
The opportunity arose when the stallion suddenly collapsed, just a few meters from the border of the camp. Any sense of relief Rarity may have felt was quickly overcome with worry for the old pony, and worry soon became despair as the foppish leader of the bandits stepped forward from behind a tree, holding a dagger. Despite everything, Rarity couldn’t help but notice how ragged and torn the stallion’s outfit had become. The coat was missing an entire sleeve, and his hat was missing, revealing a complete lack of a mane.
She forced her attention away from the bandit boss’s appearance and toward the fallen old stallion. The mare was knelt beside him, crying as she shook his body. The old stallion let out a groan as he tried to roll onto his back with his hooves clutched tightly against his chest. His breaths came out labored and pained, causing him to wince with each inhale and shudder with each exhale.
The leader of the bandits kicked the mare aside, silencing her pitiful petitions for mercy. Beneath that messy beard, his features were contorted into an enraged snarl as he glared at the old stallion laid at his hooves. He wasn’t long in this world, the old stallion. His futile attempts to keep his stab wound closed bought him a minute at most, but the bandit was in no mood to wait, not after the old fool had the audacity to survive the first strike. He lifted the dagger, ready to ensure that the second cut was a fatal one.
The dagger fell from his grasp when he suddenly found himself lifted up off the ground. Both of Rarity’s back hooves had found their way directly into the soft section beneath the bandit leader’s chin, and the momentum she had accumulated during her forward charge transferred into the blow when she turned and pivoted right into the kick. It might not have been enough to buck clean a whole tree of its fruit, but even Applejack would have been impressed by the height and distance Rarity managed to send the murderous dandy.
The glow of victory was already fading as the bandit leader was already slowly getting back up. His head shook to rid of the flashing lights in his vision, and he winced when he gave the tender area under his jaw a light touch. “You,” he hissed, turning his hateful glare toward Rarity. He picked up the dropped dagger and lunged forward.
It appeared that the leader of the bandit hadn’t completely shaken off Rarity’s kick. His swing was a clumsy attempt that Rarity easily sidestepped. What time she might bought for herself with that dodge was wasted, however, as she struggled to pull her own weapon out of her cloak. Rarity just managed to removed the blade from its sheath when the gang boss swung again.
It was near miss, but a miss nevertheless. The sight of a sharp, deadly blade flying only inches by her face ignited something innate and animalistic that had been deeply buried beneath societal norms and evolutionary developments. Her body, driven by adrenaline, panic, and instinct, reacted, and before Rarity could come up with a single thought, her hoof had already come down and plunged her dagger into the bandit’s one good eye.
He screamed and waved his weapon wildly, forcing Rarity to step back. The stallion let out another anguished howl as he yanked the blade out of his face, leaving behind a large gash. “I’ll kill you for this!” he screamed, brandishing both daggers. “Where are you?” Had Rarity’s blade gone any deeper, it may have been enough to destroy the bandit’s vision completely and permanently, but desperation could only get her so far, and his eye, red and barely visible underneath the mark Rarity had left, rolled about until it eventually found the pony who had damaged it so.
The leader of the bandits stumbled toward Rarity, slashing at air in front of him as he walked forward, cackling and screaming. He built up speed with each step he took, becoming faster and faster and drawing closer even as Rarity moved back. It was too late to try and flee. Sooner rather than later, that whirlwind of blades would be upon her.
Rarity tensed up, readying herself for the approaching assault. She had no weapons, and she didn’t think she’d get another opportunity to kick him like she had done earlier. At this point, her only defensive options were to dodge and to continue dodging. Hopefully, with that wound and the shouting and all of those erratic and wild motions he kept making, the bandit would soon tire out. Until then, all she had to do was avoid getting stabbed.
She had been successful in that regard her entire life up to now, Rarity could only hope her luck held. Her knees bent preemptively, preparing her to duck and tumble away at any second. The screaming grew louder, and she could hear the daggers whistle through the air. She forced her eyes open, ignoring all urges to blink or look away as the distance between them shrunk.
“I’ll kill you! I see you, and I’m going to kill you!”
Not yet.
She needed to focus. Her timing had to be immaculate.
“I’m going to kill you so dead! You hear me? Dead!”
Not yet.
There was no room for error. One miscalculation might be all it took to end everything.
“So dead! You are so dead! I’m going to kill you, you stupid b—“
The bandit stopped walking. The daggers fell to the ground. His body soon followed, crashing down with an audible thud, and buried deep in the back of his head, sticking out and up toward the forest canopy, was the shaft of an arrow.
“I told you not to go too far.”
And standing right across with the tip of her bow planted in the grass was Huntress, wearing an all too familiar scowl.
“Huntress! Thank goodness.” Rarity’s legs turned to jelly with relief, and she dropped to her knees. “How did you find me? No, that can wait.” She pointed to her fellow former prisoners. The mare was at her father’s side, helping him press against his wound as she wept. The old stallion was shaking, and he was still gasping painfully for air, but at least there were signs of life. “He’s badly injured,” Rarity explained. “I don’t know if, can you, is there anything you can do?”
Huntress slowly, perhaps even reluctantly, turned away from Rarity and looked instead to the ponies Rarity had directed her towards. She swung her bow over her back and started toward them. “Move over,” she ordered, giving the mare a shove to the side.
“It’s alright,” Rarity assured. She had managed to return feeling to her legs and quickly went over to help the mare. “Don’t worry, she’s a, well, she’s with me in any case. She can be a little abrasive, yes,” Rarity added with a frown in Huntress’s direction, “but she means well. Your father is in good hooves, that I’m sure.”
“Then, he’ll be alright? And, and my sister!” The mare paled. “Where’s Minutiae? Is my sister’s safe?”
“Y-yes, she’s s-safe,” Rarity stammered out as she got the mare to stop shaking her and let go of her shoulders. “I told her to stay put when we went after your father. She should still be over there.”
The mare followed Rarity’s hoof toward the direction they had been trying to escape toward. “Alright then,” she said with a relieved sigh. “If my father is being taken care of, we should go—“
“Hey!” Huntress suddenly called. Cradled in her forelegs was the old stallion’s head. and neck. Much of the color in his face had faded, and each breath he forced in sent a violent shudder through his entire body. “I need one of you to hold up his head for me. And hurry, he doesn’t have much time.”
“But, Minutiae,” muttered the mare, biting her lip. “I-I can’t just—“
“I’ll stay and help here,” Rarity offered. “You go find your sister. She’ll be more receptive to you than me. We’ll take care of your father. He will be fine, I promise.”
“It doesn’t matter who stays to help, just get over here!” Huntress shouted.
Rarity and the mare shared a look. Then with a nod, the mare took off, shouting out the filly’s name as she approached the area they had left her. Rarity rushed over to Huntress and knelt beside her. “What do you need me to do?”
“Here, hold him,” her guide instructed, thrusting the stallion’s head into Rarity grasp. “Now get his mouth opened.”
“His, mouth?”
“Yes, his mouth,” Huntress snapped as she tore through her saddlebags. “Ah, here we go.” From the bags she pulled out something plump, round, and red. It was a berry, the same berry from last night Rarity realized. “Well? What are you waiting for? Open his mouth already!”
Rarity, spurred by Huntress’s exclamation, obeyed and forced the injured pony’s jaw down. “More,” Huntress commanded. The gap between his lips widened as Rarity reluctantly pulled the upper section of the stallion’s head back. “Alright, that’ll have to do.” Huntress shoved the berry into the stallion’s open mouth, pushing it in as far as possible.
“Hold him still,” Huntress ordered loudly over the stallion’s thrashing. She held down his hind legs Rarity secured the front ones while keeping his head in position.
“Is, is this really helping?”
“Just get him to swallow the berry. Rub his throat. Yes, like that.” A sizable bulge could be seen traveling down the length of the stallion’s neck. “There we go.”
Huntress suddenly released the stallion, and to Rarity’s surprise, his kicking had ceased. He had gone still in her grasp, and when she cautiously released him as well, he made no additional pained and violent motions. His breathing, while still labored, no longer sounded forced and painful, and slowly but surely it was falling into a stable rhythm.
“He’ll be fine now,” Huntress said. She straightened her pack and turned to Rarity. “So, what happened? And don’t tell me you wandered all the way here just to piss.”
“N-no, of course not,” Rarity replied, turning red at Huntress’s vulgarity. “I was brought here by one of his subordinates.” She gestured to the lifeless body of the bandit boss. “How did you end up finding me? When did you know I was missing?” asked Rarity.
“I figured something was wrong when something, I thought it was you, might have been your ponynapper, tripped my alarm. As for finding your trail, that wasn’t much of a—“
“Papa!”
The two mares looked toward the cry to find the filly running right at them, with the elder sister right behind her. Before anypony could stop her, the little filly dove into the stallion and threw her forelegs around him. His eyes flew wide open, the eyeballs themselves almost protruding past their lids, as he let out a cross between a grunt and a groan along with a bit of spittle.
“Minutiae?” the old stallion sputtered. He struggled to sit up and look around, grimacing at the effort. He turned to his oldest daughter who had just arrive. “Pendula? Then, I’m..He patted his recently bandaged chest and winced. “I’m alive. And, everypony is alright? What about the bandits? Are we safe?”
“Well.” Rarity turned to the leader of the gang that had imprisoned them, and everypony else followed her gaze. “I don’t believe we’ll need to worry about him bothering us at least, but we do still have that entire camp of thieving, murdering scoundrels close by. We should probably leave before they come looking for their leader.”
“No need to rush,” Huntress interjected. She made her way over to the bandit’s body and yanked the arrow out of the back of his head. “They’ve been dealt with, more or less.” She wiped the arrowhead against the once fancy dress coat, and after confirming its sharpness, she placed it in the empty quiver attached to her side. “You’re welcome to whatever you can find in the camp, as long as you leave me the arrows.”
“Then, while you were there, did you happen across any sealed crates?” the old stallion inquired. “Anything that might have looked like it was holding valuable merchandise? Please, tell me those were intact.”
“Don’t know.” Huntress flipped over the body of the bandit boss onto his back and started rifling through the pockets and the folds of his coat and shirt. “Wasn’t paying attention to anything like that.”
“Right, of course.” The stallion sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to see for myself.”
“Father, wait,” the mare called after the old stallion hurrying back toward the camp they had just been prisoners of. “Please, I think we should stick together. What if there are more of them?” She turned to Rarity and Huntress.
“The camp is clear,” Huntress said without giving so much as a glance from her pilfering. “Some managed to get away, but I doubt they’ll be back any time soon.”
“I’ll go with you, if it’ll put you at ease,” Rarity offered the mare before turning to Huntress and the corpse she was rummaging with an eyebrow raised and a small, disgusted frown. “Huntress, you seem to have a handle with the—“
Looting. Plundering. Despoiling of the still warm cadaver that had once been a fellow pony with his own hopes and dreams, never to be fulfilled.
“—appropriation of whatever is on his person. I don’t suppose you’ll be needing my help here?”
“Just don’t wander off again,” Huntress said. “Oh, and here.” She held out the dagger the bandit had borrowed from Rarity toward her. “Just in case. You know where the sheath is?”
“I, um.” Rarity pressed at the folds of her cloak, feeling for the dagger’s scabbard. “I must have dropped it somewhere around here.”
Huntress sighed. “Alright, I’ll look around. Just, try not to hurt yourself.”
“I’ll be careful,” Rarity said as she firmly took hold of the dagger’s hilt. She could’ve done without Huntress’s condescending tone, but she recognized the legitimacy of her guide’s concern, and as she and the two sisters followed in the old stallion’s path toward the bandit camp, Rarity made sure to move cautiously, keeping the blade at leg length and pointed directly downward and away from anypony.
Despite the slow pace Rarity forced them to follow, they soon reached the edge of the camp. The cheeks of the mare beside her puffed out as her face turned green, and she quickly threw a hoof over her younger sister’s eyes.
“Hey!” the filly exclaimed, trying to escape the mare’s grasp. “What? What is it?”
“I—“ The mare gagged and coughed. “It’s nothing, nothing you need to see. Just, let’s go this way,” she said as she guided the filly past a trio of bodies with a large collection of arrows and, very strangely, thorns and quills sticking out of them. More bodies of bandits could be found scattered throughout the camp in similar states with their swords and spears drawn and nearby, a few still holding their weapons tightly in a death grip. Like with what had happened with the poor stallion who had brought her here in the very first place, there was a strange lack of any visceral mess anywhere, not even blood stains on their clothes, despite the bandits’ obviously violent ends, and of what Rarity could tell, all of their eyes were closed shut and mysteriously marked with dark Xs.
Out of morbid curiosity, Rarity took a quick count. She couldn’t help but be impressed at the number that served as a testament to Huntress’s martial abilities. Several questions regarding how she had acquired such a proficiency at taking lives and what she was doing in a quaint farming village arose, but Rarity shoved them all to the side. As little as she knew of Huntress, it was obvious from last night attempts at conversation that the mare preferred her privacy, and from that experience, Rarity doubted any amount of prying would yield any information.
“Your friend,” the mare whispered, breaking Rarity away from her thoughts. “Did she really do all this? By herself?”
“I, er, I suppose so. I mean, if there had been another party involved in this mess, I’d imagine they would have stuck around.”
“Is she, an adventurer?”
“An adventurer?” Rarity repeated. “Well, I’m not sure. I suppose, if you were to consider our trip an adventure, then yes. You’ll have to ask her yourself to be sure.”
“I see.” The mare seemed to have more to say, but before she could, a call rang out from one of the tents.
“Hey!” It was the raspy voice of the older stallion. “Somepony get over here and give me a hoof, yeah?”
The three headed toward where the call had come from. They pulled aside the entrance flap and, seeing that there was only the old stallion struggling with one of the many crates around, went in. The filly, having finally been released by her protective sister now that all the grisly evidence of battle was no longer visible, ran over to her father’s side to watch as he pressed his entire weight on a crowbar wedged between the lid and the rest of the box. Each box in the tent, including the one the old stallion was working on, was marked with the faded stamp of a songbird, the same symbol as the one on the stallion’s flanks Rarity noted.
The stallion stepped aside and gave his daughter room to approach. Once she was sure that her dagger was in a place that wouldn’t cause anypony harm, Rarity joined her at the crowbar. Under their combined efforts, the lid creaked open as the nails holding it down were forced out of the wood. It took some time, but the box was eventually opened, and the stallion quickly pushed his way to it, muttering to himself worriedly as he stuck his head into the crate.
“Oh, thank all that is holy,” he breathed. “At least these ones are safe. We’re not completely ruined just yet. And we owe it all to you, miss.” There was some rummaging that could be heard from within the crate. “Miss, my family and I, we owe you our futures. Without my wares, we’d have no choice but to start over as beggars or worse.”
“Is, that right?” Rarity said, looking to the stallion’s two daughters for a potential explanation. The older one only shook her head as she let out an exasperated sigh while the filly shrugged. From their apparent lack of concern, it appeared that the old stallion was speaking in hyperboles. Rarity supposed she could empathize with him, to a degree; as a business owner herself, she was aware of how one’s perceived importance of one’s own merchandise could get a little out of control, through she couldn’t say whether she’d willingly charge into a gathering of murderers and thieves just to save an order of dresses. “Well, I’m pleased I could help in any way.”
“Yes, yes, but I’d rather not start my new life in debt.” At last, the stallion removed himself from the box. “So please, I want you to have this, for everything you’ve done for us.”
He placed something heavy into Rarity’s forelegs. It took her a moment to recognize the bulky contraption for what it was largely because it was, perhaps, the last thing she had ever expected to receive.
“We risk our lives coming back here, for clocks?”
“Ah, so you know what this is,” the stallion said with a grin. “But this is not just any old timekeeper. Because, at the end of each hour, well.” He chuckled and stuck a hoof into the bottom of the device. After a bit of fiddling, it began to tick softly as the hands on the clock’s face started to move. Suddenly, a flap near the top opened, and out sprung a toy bird that chirped and whistled before retreating back inside.
Rarity slowly lowered her gift and stared at the smiling stallion. It took every bit of willpower she had to force a grin back.