//------------------------------// // The Old Vulture (Bonus Chapter) // Story: Gallus in the City of Suckers // by Miller Minus //------------------------------// Gallus sat alone on a park bench, holding Roseluck’s plate in his talons, and holding the pie in his stomach. He'd considered bringing the plate up to his face to lick the remains, but he didn't want to scratch it with his beak. So instead he rotated the plate and let the fork slide clockwise around the edge with a tiny clamor. Occasionally the fork fell in the grass, and he would reach down, move it back to the plate, and go back to rotating it. Weird day. He’d left Roseluck abruptly when she’d disappeared into another room, his instincts finally kicking in. He wasn’t sure what he was doing in the park. Processing things, maybe. He heard giggling and saw a group of three chicks—no, they were called fillies—chasing each other down a gravel path, one of them falling behind. She stopped when she saw him, her eyes went wide, then with a big toothy grin she waved a hoof. Gallus decided not to respond, but then his talons moved on their own and waved back on his behalf. It seemed to make her day, then she sped off. Soon enough there were three strong gusts of wind behind him, the sounds of someone landing harshly, and Gallus knew who it was even before he saw the pair of old, black feathers flutter in front of him. He put down the plate. “There y’are, ya menace,” Grandpa Gruff growled. Gallus sighed. “How did you find me?” “Searched the open spaces. You usually gravitate there.” The old vulture circled the bench carrying a stack of books in one arm and a pile of school supplies in the other, and only then did Gallus remember he’d ditched the guy. With an ugly groan, as if carrying a thousand pounds, Grandpa Gruff tossed everything on the bench, then sat back in the grass and crossed his arms. “Thanks,” said Gallus, gathering it all up. “Thanks, he says,” muttered Gruff. “You know, I was this close to telling those nice little ponies that I wasn’t there to register anyone at all, but to scratch your name off the list.” Gallus glared. “You what?” “I didn’t do it, clearly. But you were close to blowing it, pulling your little getaway.” Gallus lowered his head. “Sorry,” he muttered. He wanted to talk back, but it always seemed to make things worse with Grandpa Gruff. “You better be sorry. If I find out you aren’t taking this seriously I will pull you outta there by your tail and take you back to Griffonstone faster than you can pick a lock. I won’t have you wasting my scholarship.” Gallus forgot himself immediately. “YOUR scholarship?” He shot to his feet. “It’s MY scholarship!” “‘Fraid not, whelp!” Grandpa Gruff barked. “I got the letter asking me to pick somegriff to send on a free ride through Twilight Sparkle’s School of Friendship,” and he gave the name of the school a high-pitched, feminine twang, “and I chose you, Gallus.” Gallus choked on a response. “What? Me?” “That’s right. I could have given it to Gabby. Grover knows she would have been thrilled at the opportunity. Or I could have given it to Gilda, because at least that would have been funny. Imagine the look on her face… But no, I chose you. And here you are gallivanting around Ponyville behind my back and stealing from your new neighbors.” “Stealing! I didn’t steal anything!” He’d planned on it, but he hadn’t actually— Grandpa Gruff’s talons shot out and pointed at the plate and fork on the bench. Gallus winced. “Oh… Whoops.” “Yeah. Whoops.” Gallus pushed the plate and fork behind him, as if hiding them from view would cause them to teleport into Roseluck’s cupboard. It didn’t. “Why me?” he croaked. “Eh?” “Why did you pick me? Why not Gabby?” Grandpa Gruff sighed raggedly and looked at the sky. “I have no idea, Gallus. Maybe you can ask your professors when classes start. Now can we fly home or are you set on moping around this awful town all day?” Gallus looked down at his talons. Turned them over. Then he reached behind him and grabbed the plate and fork. “Gimme a sec,” he said. “I should… return these.” Grandpa Gruff’s beak twitched. At first Gallus thought it was out of anger, but then he realized it was a smirk. There and gone, but he’d seen it. “Good idea,” said the old vulture.