The main door opened once again, making the foals jump; but this time, it was a more familiar face. Raindrops walked in, carefully balancing their daily food trays on her outstretched wings.
“Raindrops!” some of the foals cheered.
“Hey, Feather. Scout. Cloudy,” she greeted some of the closer foals. She winced as she set the trays down, making sure to set them down easily within reach. “Looks like they’ve been taking a lot of you. I’m really sorry. I’ve been stuck doing a lot of paperwork.”
It was a relief to see her face again. Even the bland breakfast—it was probably supposed to have been alfalfa on a bagel, but looked and tasted more like wilted grass on a cardboard square—seemed better.
“So I’ve got good news and bad news,” Raindrops said. “Good news, we’ve hit our quota of spectra.”
“Quota?” one of the fillies asked.
Raindrops nodded. “The Rainbow Factory works like any other. We get orders, and we fill them. Sometimes, we hit our quota early. Sometimes, we’re working until the last minute. We happened to hit it early this week. So that’s the good news: the Device is staying asleep for now. The bad news is, ponies are going to get really suspicious if I walk around with a foal until the new orders come, so I can’t get you out that way.”
Octave felt his ears droop, and everypony else seemed to have the same reaction.
“Oh, don’t look so glum, guys!” Raindrops said brightly. “You think this hasn’t happened before? This is the perfect time to get some of you out. Sure, the workers are everywhere, but they’re just showing up for a paycheck and don’t care about what else is happening. We’ll just have to be a little more… creative.” She glanced around and her eyes fell on one of the other fillies. Her brow furrowed. “What happened to your wings?”
The filly in question quickly slammed her wings shut against her body, and her periwinkle cheeks colored instantly. “’m molting,” she answered in a low mumble, sounding embarrassed.
“Molting… or mites?” Raindrops prompted, standing up, her ears pricking.
“What?”
“Feathers don’t have a lot of spectra. Otherwise we’d just keep all the ones we shed and use those. But if you have mites, that’ll taint the rainbow. I think I can use this,” she said eagerly.
“How?”
“We keep a medic on staff,” Raindrops explained. “Mostly for workers, but you all, too. After all, you're worthless as spectra if you're dead. Or, in your case, infested with mites. I can take you out there and nopony will want to get close.” She gestured at her cellmate. “Could you pull out some more of her feathers? Just to help sell it in case we get stopped?”
The filly spread her wings, and then gritted her teeth in pain as her cellmate did just that, pulling out a couple other feathers.
Raindrops winced empathetically. “Yeah, that’s good,” she said, bending over and gathering the empty trays. “I’ll be back in a bit. Let me drop these off, and I’ll be back.”
True to her word, Raindrops soon returned, taking the filly with her. Before long, she came back, a triumphant little smile on her face. “Got her out,” she said in a low whisper. “Told them I was taking her to the medics, and she jumped over the side before I could stop her. She’s home free.”
Her cellmate smiled a half-smile. She still felt guilty about pulling out her feathers.
Raindrops noticed. “I know, it wasn’t fun; but you did good, Scout,” she said comfortingly. She brightened. “Here, I brought you all something else I think you’ll like.” She reached under her wing and pulled out a long loaf of bread.
“Bread!” Feather said excitedly.
“Sure is,” Raindrops said, breaking it apart and distributing it. “Better than whatever they’re giving you, anyway.” She stuck her tongue out. “I wouldn’t give that to a bird.”
Octave gratefully took his portion. It wasn’t warm, but it was leaps and bounds better than what they’d been served.
The other foals felt similarly. “This is great,” one said.
“It’s amazing,” another agreed.
“Thanks,” Raindrops said, adjusting her hat as if to hide a blush. “Apparently, I'm really good at baking bread.” She leaned in, covering her mouth with her hoof. “Don't tell anypony, but I might be part earth pony.”
The foals had to giggle at that.
“Don't worry, guys,” she said comfortingly. “I know it’s rough right now, but I’m going to get as many of you out of here as I-”
“Raindrops!”
Everypony present jumped at the sound of an angry voice. Bread hurriedly disappeared into mouths or behind wings.
That rainbow-maned pony from earlier, still wearing that bloodstained suit, marched up to Raindrops and put her face right up to hers. Her eyes narrowed. “Get out,” she growled, her voice a low rumble.
Raindrops tried playing dumb. “What? I'm just-”
The rainbow-maned pony’s lip curled up, revealing gritted teeth. “Get. Out,” she repeated.
Raindrops scampered.
The rainbow pony waited until she was out of sight before slumping over, her ears dropping, as if she were suddenly exhausted. She turned to glance at the quivering foals before quickly returning her gaze to the floor. She grimaced, shaking her head like she was trying to startle off a fly. “Don't listen to her,” she muttered, her eyes still scanning the ground.
Suddenly, she turned, reared up and slammed her hooves against the nearest grate. “Don't listen to her!” she roared, sending the foals skittering back in fright. Still breathing hard, she dropped her hooves back to the ground. “Don't listen to her,” she repeated once more, this time softly, and then she turned and walked away.
The foals silently watched her leave. Nopony dared to say anything, just in case it brought her back, and it took a while before any were brave enough to retrieve their hidden bread.
Octave tried to keep eating his, but just knowing she was here (and knowing that she clearly suspected Raindrops of something) meant it tasted like ash in his mouth. He hoped she’d be ok.