//------------------------------//
// Bargains 
// Story: Gobbling and Other Traditional Pursuits 
// by LadyMoondancer 
//------------------------------//

There once was a little pink pony with blue hair, Molasses by name and confectioner by trade.  All day, every day, she labored making candies and sweets. She sold her wares to the village folk and once a month took the road through the woods to sell them in the next town over as well.  And so she made her living.

One day, as she was taking a load of saltwater taffy through the forest, the wheel came off her little cart. By the time she fixed it, darkness had fallen.  Molasses hurried along the path and was almost out of the forest when Nightmare Moon leapt out of the trees, big as a house and fierce as a dragon.

"Halt!" cried the Nightmare. "Whoever walks these woods pays the toll, my little pony!  Shall I take it from thy flesh, thy bone, or thy craft?"

Molasses saw it would be no use to run, so she said, "From my craft, Great Nightmare.  I will give you half my goods, if only you will let me go."

The Nightmare looked pleased with herself, for she had a sweet tooth and could see as well as anypony that Molasses had a gingerbread cookie as her symbol.  "So be it."

Molasses unhitched herself from the cart and looked at the taffy she hoped to sell.  "Yes, we shall split the wares, half and half.  You shall take the outsides and I shall take the insides."

"That is fair!" said Nightmare Moon, and so the two of them unwrapped each and every piece of taffy.  Molasses piled the candy in her cart and Nightmare Moon took all the crinkled wrappers of wax paper.  

Then the little earth pony hurried away.  The last she saw of Nightmare Moon, she was sitting on the path chewing on a wrapper, wearing an expression of growing confusion and discontentment. Molasses stayed the night in the village at the other side of the woods and was very careful to make her return trip in broad daylight.

The next month the little pony once again made the trip through the woods, this time with a load of candy apples.  But alas . . . this time a shaft broke on her little cart.  By the time she had repaired it, darkness had fallen and the moon shone down like a great eye.  And before long Nightmare Moon jumped out from behind a tree.

"Aha!" she said, casting strange shadows as her starry mane danced and writhed.  "Whoever walks these woods pays the toll, my little pony!  Shall I take it from thy flesh, thy bone, or thy craft?"  Then she looked more closely at her.  "I remember you.  I did not think much of your wares!  I think I will take my payment from your bone."

But Molasses quickly said, "Great Nightmare, I am sorry my goods were not to your liking.  Possibly your taste buds are too refined for food fit for simple peasants.  But please, give me another chance.  I will give you half my goods if you let me go free."

The flattery soothed the Nightmare and she relented.  "Well, all right.  But this time you shall keep the outside and I shall take the inside for my payment."

"Very well," said Molasses.  And she used her little knife to skillfully core each and every apple, leaving the sticks and seeds in a pile for Nightmare Moon while she herself took the caramel-covered flesh of the fruit.  

Then she hurried away as quickly as she could.  The last she saw of the Nightmare, she was crunching on the wooden sticks, muttering, "I don't think much of these. Bones taste sweeter!"

Again Molasses stayed the night in the village at the far side of the woods and she was very careful to make the return trip in broad daylight.

For several months after that Molasses did not go through the woods at all, but only sold her goods in her own village.  But she simply could not make enough there to support herself.  

After much thought, she made a batch of truffles, raspberry flavored with a coating of deep, rich chocolate.  But her own pink coat she treated very differently, rolling in a patch of garlic and then rubbing her fur with the sour juice of lemons, bitter herbs, and the hottest peppers she could find.  

She hitched herself to her little cart and started out in the evening, and this time her pace was very slow indeed, because her eyes kept watering until she could barely see the road.  Before long the bushes rustled and Nightmare Moon leapt out.

"Halt!" she cried. "Whoever walks these woods pays the toll, my little pony!  Shall I take it from thy flesh, thy bone, or thy—oh, it’s you.”  She towered above Molasses, glowering down.  “You do not get such options.  Never have I tasted worse fare than that from your cart.  I shall not touch your craft again, pitiful mare.  Your flesh shall fill my stewpot!”

“Oh Great Nightmare, I am sorry my food did not please you, but it was meant for us mere mortals, after all.  It shall be as you wish.”  And Molasses reared up and jammed her leg into Nightmare Moon’s mouth.

At first the Nightmare just stood there, leaning back a little in shock.  Then froth began to drip from her mouth.  Her eyes bulged and watered.   Her nose began to run.  And finally she shook her head so violently that Molasses was flung into a tree.  

“Water!  Water!  Waaaateeeer!” screamed the Nightmare as she thundered away through the trees, causing several of them to drop their leaves three months early.   

As for Molasses, she shook the dirt from her coat, hitched herself to the cart, and walked on, though slowly because her leg had hit the tree rather hard.  She sold her chocolates at a good price, and every month returned to do the same again.

Never more did she see the Nightmare who lived in the woods.  But the sweets she set out for Nightmare Night were never touched, so she told her grandchildren, and she walked with a limp for the rest of her days.