Paul sighed in relief as Mark was strapped safely into the baby seat on the van. He wasn't fighting them. Mark had to be sedated when he'd been taken from his grandmother's apartment. It was best to stay on guard with him since he could still try to make a break for it, but this was still a welcome change of pace.
"I appreciate you helping us with Mark, Jessie. I was worried this would be much more difficult," Paul told his daughter.
Jessie nodded silently, keeping her eyes on the car as the doors were shut.
He scratched his beard. "I know you're worried about how he'll be treated, but I promise you, I will keep a careful watch on this case."
"How do I apply to foster him?" Jessie blurted out.
Paul frowned. He half expected this was coming, but not so quickly. Jessie had shown a strong connection to the boy, and she was incapable of having children of her own. There would always be…hurdles…to her adopting any humans or ponies in the future; he couldn't deny they existed, much as he wanted to. A partial child was another case entirely, and the chances of another partial kid entering the system in the area were slim to none. Add to that, she said she might be free from the Dreamwardens, and that meant she had a lot of refiguring of what she wanted from her life, something she had never had the luxury of considering before. To her, it must have seemed like the universe was basically gifting her an opportunity.
"Well, the first thing standing in your way is you must be at least twenty-one or older," he slowly said.
"Are you fudging kidding me?!" Jessie fumed. "I have waited for years to be a legal adult, despite the fact I'm aged up six years, and I still have fudging age restrictions blocking me?"
He made a calming motion with his hands. "That age restriction can be circumvented in rare cases with an appeal. You must demonstrate you have every other aspect of your life together–income, housing, safety, maturity, job security, time, support system, and no criminal record. However, it normally helps if you are already a relative."
"Well, I'm not a relative, but I'm one of the few people who can understand him and the only person he seems to trust; does that count for something?" Jessie asked.
Paul shrugged. "I'm sure it counts for something, but I'm not sure how much. I'm not the one who approves applications." He looked her in the eyes. "You do understand that I have to keep a neutral position with this. I can't be showing you favoritism. I know that might come off as mean, but-"
She shook her head. "I understand, Dad. You've done me a big enough favor, telling me there's a chance. So, what do I do? Do I go to the social services office and fill out an application?"
He nodded. "Yes, and you'll need to ask for a separate form for us to consider lifting the age restriction." He looked at the van that held Mark. "I need to get going. Worry about your move for today. You have enough going on and don't want to mess that up. You've already spent more time here than you originally planned."
Jessie looked reluctantly at the van and then nodded. "Okay, will you be coming by my new apartment later?"
He hugged her. "Sure will. Right after work."
Jessie headed to her car, which was on the opposite side of the parking lot. Out of habit, he watched her until she reached her. There shouldn't be any danger here, but he still worried every time she went off by herself. He hadn't told her, but he wasn't ready for her to be living on her own. After all this time, she was still his little filly–terminology that still stuck in his head long after she'd gone through her rehumanization process.
With her safely in the car, he got in the van's back seat with Mark. It usually wouldn't be multiple people escorting such a young child to a foster home. Only older kids who were runaway risks typically got that treatment, but despite his youth and small size, Mark had proven himself to be that kind of risk. He was strapped into a foal seat, trying to curl into a fetal position against the straps.
"I know this is scary, but you'll be okay," Paul said as reassuringly as he could. "The Morris's are nice people, and they have a room all set up for you. We even moved some of your things from your grandma's to their place, so it feels a little more like home. Won't it be nice to have some of your old toys?"
Mark did not answer, nor did he glance in Paul's direction. Sadly, this wasn't unusual behavior for new foster kids. Going into foster care was a traumatic experience, and while every kid tried to deal with that in their own way, he hadn't met one yet who took this drive well. Some tried to put on a brave face and force smiles, but those were few, and the most common response was near total silence. Mark might be a partial, but when it came to trauma, he was no different than any human or pony.
"You don't have to call them Mom and Dad if you don't want to," Paul continued as the van left the parking lot. "They two other kids staying with them, and those kids call them Jack and Jill. Have you ever heard that nursery rhyme about Jack and Jill going up the hill to fetch a pail of water?"
No response.
"Well, Mister Jack actually did fall down a hill, sort of. He tumbled down a mountain on a ski resort, and Miss Jill rushed after him on foot and ended up tumbling after. So they're sorta like the nursery rhyme. They joke about it all the time," Paul explained with a smile.
That didn't earn a response, either. He was still unsuccessfully trying to curl into a fetal position.
"You know, it might be more comfortable if you don't try to curl up like that. Those straps must be digging into you," Paul said.
Mark uncurled somewhat but didn't say anything.
Paul made no further attempts to get Mark to talk for the next several minutes as they continued their journey to the Morris house, which was located just inside the city limits of Denver on the Aurora side. It was an older suburb built back in the sixties. The houses here weren't particularly big. The Morris house was one the biggest, having been expanded to four bedrooms over the years, despite still being just one story. Supposedly, Sunset Blessing had lived only two miles away in a similar house when she was a young child. If so, the young kids in the neighborhood all attended the same elementary school as the famous pony, which made sure to let everyone know that she had been one of their students, even going so far as to erect a statue of her near the entrance, even though that did not play well with Shimmerists and attracted a lot of Blessingists to the neighborhood, including the Jack and Jill Morris. Despite the old suburb filled with houses that had, at times, haphazard additions to them, it was still a nice neighborhood that had public parks every three miles, so most people had at least two parks within walking distance. It was a good place for raising kids.
As they were nearing their destination, Paul decided to have another talk with Mark.
"I noticed you like being around my daughter, Jessie. Is that so?" Paul asked.
This time Mark did look up at him. "Maybe-later Mommy."
That caught Paul off guard. "You mean be your mommy maybe later?"
"Yes," Mark answered.
"Do you want her to be your mommy?" Paul asked. Unsure how much to dig into this.
"Yes," Mark answered.
"Why do you want her to be your mommy?" Paul continued.
Mark seemed to actually stop and think, unusual for a four-year-old since they normally blurted out the first thing that came to mind. That could mean Mark was more intelligent than first suspected, although it would be some time before his intelligence could be tested.
"Nice to me, pretty, brave, hugs good, sad," Mark listed off slowly after taking time to consider.
"Sad?" Paul asked in confusion. He was also impressed at the use of the term brave. Since that wasn't usually a term young children thought of when talking about others, but sad was the big standout.
"Sad when I'm sad," Mark clarified.
"Well, I'm sad when you're sad, too," Paul said.
Mark looked away. "Not same."
Now Paul understood. Mark didn't have the vocabulary or abstract thought to put it into words, but he was describing empathy as best he could, not just Jessie's empathy for him, but his for her. Others might feel for him, but it was with Jessie that he felt it back and was more responsive to hers as a result.
"Did Jessie say maybe later?" Paul asked.
"Yes," Mark answered.
"And were you the one who asked her to be your mommy?"
"Yes."
"And she answered, maybe later?"
"Yes."
That explained why Jessie suddenly announced she wanted to foster him. He had asked her, and she had responded. She still needed time to consider this decision, and there were plenty of obstacles in her path. He was also worried that she might not have had enough time out on her own yet or to find what she wanted out of life before taking on parenthood. Plus, it was hard to imagine his little filly as a parent…she was still his little filly.
"We'll see how that goes," he finally said. "I know she'll want you to be well-behaved for the Morrises. Answer their questions when they ask you, even if you have to say I don't know. Don't try to run away and hide from them. Let them give you baths, and make sure you eat your meals. Jessie will visit you in a few days once you're settled in. She'll want to hear you were a good boy. Can you be a good boy?"
"Yes," Mark answered.
Paul nodded in acceptance of the answer. "There's one more thing. I'll also be visiting you regularly to check how you're doing. I don't think it will happen, but if anyone has done anything mean to you or hurt you, you need to make sure you tell me. It doesn't matter who it was. I need to know so I can make sure it never happens again. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
They reached the Morris house and parked. Paul went to undo Mark's straps, and Mark tried to flinch away.
"I'm trying to undo your straps. I'm going to pick you up after that. Is that okay?" Paul asked.
Mark did not look pleased with this idea. "Yes. Be a good boy."
Paul smiled. "Thank you."
After finishing getting Mark out of the seat, he picked Mark up and carefully got out of the van. Jack and Jill were already outside and coming up to the van, all smiles. Their two other fosters stood watching on the porch. Mark was unconcerned with any of this and was desperately trying to hide deeper in Paul's arms.
Jack walked up to them. "Paul, good to see you. Is this Mark? He seems rather attached to you."
Paul looked at Mark, who was doing his best to hide his head. The child's horn dug into his arm, but it was only mildly uncomfortable.
"He did this same thing when leaving the hospital to go to the van. Mark is scared of wide open spaces, and the sky terrifies him," Paul explained. "He's scared of strangers, too, and almost everyone is a stranger to him."
Jill reached them and gave Mark a comforting smile. "Poor guy. Wishing Well was scared when he came here as well. Maybe he can help you settle in."
"I think he'll be slightly less nervous once we get him inside," Paul said. "Shall we?"
They walked to the front door, and the eleven-year-old boy, Caleb, gave them a quizzical look. He'd been in the system for a little over two years, and this was his second foster family. His previous foster home had some sanitation issues that forced the relocation of all the fosters in it. His actual parents had been heavily into illicit drugs and alcohol and did supervised visits once a month. If they could stay alcohol and drug-free, they could be one happy family again. Sadly, they'd failed to demonstrate that so far.
"We taking in a baby? I was told the kid was four," Caleb asked.
"I want to see the baby!" Wishing Well exclaimed as he backed away to avoid getting stepped on.
Wishing Well was a five-year-old earth pony with bright blue fur and a brown mane. He'd been in the system for a little over six months, and the adaptable colt was largely adjusted and happy, provided you didn't try to talk to him about his birth parents, who'd died during a freak avalanche a showboating pegasus had accidentally triggered.
"Mark's not a baby. He's just tiny and scared," Paul told them as he crossed into the house.
"Smaller than me?" Wishing Well asked as he weaved between Jack and Jill walking despite having just backed away to avoid being stepped on. Jill nearly stumbled, trying to avoid him.
"Wishing! What did we say about running under people's legs?" Jill fussed.
"Sorry!" Wishing shouted as he climbed onto a bean bag chair.
The living room was a bit different than most human families in the area might have. There was a very low six-by-six-foot glass table that you sat on the floor for. There were no couches or chairs, just bean bag furniture. In one corner was a pile of Wishing Well's blocks, and there was a small bookshelf with stacks of board games. There was no television in the living room, although he knew each bedroom had one. The Morrises believed that the living room should be the focus of socialization for the household.
Paul went and sat next to the table. "Mark. We're here. I'm going to set you down and introduce you to everyone."
He tried to anyway. Mark clung to him tightly. Paul was unsure what to do since he wasn't about to yank Mark off his arm.
"Mark, you need to let go. You promised that you'd be good, for Jessie's sake," Paul reminded him.
Mark did release and let Paul set him down on the floor. Mark immediately scrambled to get under the table. This did nothing to hide Mark, given that the table was glass. It was impressive that Mark managed to even fit under the table. The table didn't reach the top of Paul's knee while he sat cross-legged on the floor. Wishing Well wouldn't even have been able to fit under the table.
"He is tiny!" Wishing Well said as he put his forehooves on the table to prop himself up to look down at Mark.
"Wishing, you know no hooves on the table when you just came in from the outside. If you want to have hooves on the table, you have to wash them," Jack said. "And you might scare him more by doing that. To him, you're huge."
Wishing Well quickly took his hooves off the table and lowered his head to try to look under the table instead. "Sorry! I'm small most of the time."
"He looks like a little horned monkey," Caleb said.
"Caleb! Don't be rude. This is your new foster brother," Jill chided.
"Hi, new brother! I'm Wishing Well!" the colt shouted as if he needed extra volume to be heard under the table. Mark curled into a tighter ball under the table.
"You're scaring him, booger breath," Caleb said as he flopped onto a bean bag. Wishing turned and stuck his tongue out at the boy.
"Don't call Wishing Well names," Jack scolded.
"Yeah, don't call me names," Wishing Well said, flicking his tail at the boy. He then held up a hoof to his face and breathed heavily on it. "I don't have booger breath."
Jill sighed and walked forward. "How about we all sit down at the table and nicely introduce ourselves? Quietly, so we don't scare Mark anymore."
The three humans all took positions around the table, and Wishing Well sat where he was, still lowering his head to try to peek at Mark. They all sat quietly, waiting for Mark to leave his not-so-effective hiding spot.
Paul looked down at him. "Mark. I know this is a lot to take in, and everyone seems strange to you, but they are here to help you, not hurt you. You promised you wouldn't hide, and you would answer questions. You weren't lying, were you? Come on out and let everyone say hi to you."
Mark uncurled enough just to be able to look pleadingly at Paul, but Paul gestured for Mark to come out. The kid slowly finished uncurling and then darted out from under the table and behind Paul's back with shocking speed.
"Little twerp's fast," Caleb said.
Paul nodded. "Yes, he's very fast and very quiet. I doubt he'll try to leave the house since he's scared of the outdoors, but don't underestimate how well he can evade you, even in an enclosed area. Mark would make a hide-and-seek champion in a daycare." Paul glanced behind him. "Mark, that is still hiding. Come out where everyone can see you and say hi."
Mark poked his head out. "Hi." He then immediately retreated his head back behind Paul.
Jill decided to accept this. "Hello, Mark. I'm Jill Morris. I'm your new foster mom. You can call me Mrs.Morris, or Jill, or Mom. Whatever you feel most comfortable with."
"For-now," Mark answered.
Jill blinked. "For now what?"
"For-now Mom, not maybe later," Mark answered, staying hidden.
Paul gave them an apologetic look. "He has his heart set on my daughter, Jessie, adopting him. That's his maybe later. I was going to speak with you about her making some visits. She's the only person he feels comfortable with."
Jill smiled. "I'm sure something can be worked out. Mark, how about for right now, you call me Jill? Caleb does that. It's a lot easier than saying for now."
"Jill," Mark agreed.
Luna sipped her tea from a balcony as she watched her sister introduce the newest faculty member for her school. It was Sunset Blessing, but she wasn't being presented as Sunset Blessing. The unicorn's fur and mane were dyed, and even her cutie mark was covered by robes. Twilight gave grand speeches to the Earthlings about how Equestria was gaining this great mind, and Tia forced the unicorn to be in disguise. Luna and Tia had argued about it, but it was ultimately Celestia's school, and her word was final.
"Tell me, Krik, do you think this will fool anypony?" Luna asked.
The old night pony made several gestures as his ward stood by impassively watching.
Luna nodded. "I suppose that is true. I still feel like this is disrespecting my student."
Krik made several more gestures and then took a sip of his tea.
"Yes, if my student accepts it, then there is little further objection I can make. Still, this leaves a bitter taste in my mouth."
Krik did his dry rasp that was the equivalent of his laugh.
"Master Krik says then you should try a different tea," Jimsonweed said as she continued to stand motionless.
Luna gave the young night pony mare a sour look. "I'm fully aware of what he's laughing about. His humor needs work."
Krik made a series of other gestures, and Luna smiled.
"Don't bring up your age to me. I have you beaten by over a millennia," she said.
Krik continued to gesture.
Luna laughed. "That's sweet. And you don't look a day over sixty either."
"And Dreamwardens are supposed to be honest," Jimsomweed muttered.
Krik made several gestures at the young mare, who rolled her eyes. It was ironic that the young mare was so demanding of others to be respectful of her adopted father but felt that she could make such rude comments and gestures without reprimand. She was freshly back from a research season, and Luna's fondness of the young mare that had grown while she was away was already slipping. She was fond of Jimsonweed and her spirit…she was even more fond of her when she was far away. The young mare had a talent for rubbing everyone the wrong way, except old Krik, whose warped sense of humor found his adopted daughter hilarious.
"Princess, do you need anything else? More tea?" a member of the restaurant wait staff asked as they stepped onto the balcony.
Jimsonweed glared at the waitress. "Did the princess signal you? Did she say, at any point, can someone send that pestiferous kowtow of a waitress up here to try to earn more brownie points by offering me more of that tea? I was standing right here, and I didn't hear anything like that."
The waitress looked ready to cry. Luna was much more fond of Jimsonweed when she was away.
She gave the waitress her most motherly smile. "Excuse my rude…friend. Your service has been excellent and pleasant. However, I do not require anything at this time. Thank you for checking."
The waitress gave her a weak smile, bowed, and then scuttled off. Luna fixed her harshest glare on Jimsonweed, but the young mare didn't seem to care. At least the mare had nerve. Few could stand so calmly when targets of an alicorn's ire.
"Young mare, how do you ever expect to get anywhere in this world or Earth when you treat people so contemptuously?" Luna demanded to know. "That poor mare didn't do anything wrong. She was doing her job, and she was doing it diligently. There was no call for that."
Jimsonweed shrugged. Luna wanted to scream at her. Krik made no gestures, and she wanted to scream at him for that. Instead, she took another calming sip of tea. Maybe she could get the waitress to bring her fruit. No, Tia had banned her from eating fruit at restaurants, and most of the restaurants knew it and knew why.
Celestia was done talking, but now Twilight was up at the podium. Luna could spot the thick stack of notecards from where she was sitting. She could safely tune out the ceremony for a while.
Luna looked back at her spymaster as she set her cup back down. "Krik, I have gotten inquiries from the US government asking why the Dreamwardens of Earth seem to be using their bodyguards to conduct covert vigilante justice. I was embarrassed to admit I had heard nothing of this until I was asked about it. No such report about it had crossed my desk. Would you mind telling me about what your siblings are up to?"
Krik made several stiff gestures with his wings, looking unhappy, then returned to his tea.
Luna nodded. "I understand your loyalty to them. It is commendable. In truth, as long as justice is being served, I am not as concerned about procedures and regulations as others might be. However, I still feel responsible for whatever the Dreamwardens of Earth do, good or ill, and when Earth's governments are unhappy with them, I take it as my failing."
Krik made more gestures with both his hooves and wings.
"I do realize that now half their number were not selected by me and that Ghadab has always had been concerned with justice over the rule of law, as one would expect from someone who was failed so badly by the rule of law," Luna replied. "That doesn't mean I don't still feel responsible for their actions and wish to know what in Tartarus they are up to."
"You could hop over there and ask them," Jimsonweed suggested with only a slight hint of snidishness.
Krik made several gestures at his daughter.
"What? You didn't tell me that," Jimsonweed said in shock.
Krik waved his wings around in a disorderly fashion.
"He says he just told you," Luna said with a smile.
"I know what he said!"Jimsonweed snapped.
Luna nodded, then sighed. "But he is right. I need to stay here to prepare for our latest batch of candidates to arrive. I had wanted to visit Earth to meet them all in their dreams there, but the fact they are all human makes that very difficult, and the Warden of Order prefers I don't interfere with human affairs and will run interference on any other Dreamwarden assisting me in contacting them. Perhaps I can send you as my agent to check on them. You aren't doing anything important for the next few months."
Jimsonweed practically snarled. "Trying to ship me off to get me out of your mane for a while?"
"Yes," Luna answered dryly. "Since this deals with the dream realm, I must send a night pony. You are also the best choice no matter what. I can't send Krik or Psychic Calm for obvious reasons, and most of the other night ponies in my employ get distressed at the thought of dealing with six Dreamwardens instead of just me. I would think my ponies collectively feel guilty about something."
"A thousand years of living in fear of the Dreamwarden will make most ponies scared of the concept. The night pony tribe barely gave a damn about you as Nightmare Moon. They were too busy being afraid of Luna the Dreamwarden, who came to kill bad ponies in their sleep," Jimsonweed said dryly.
That comment stung hard and deep. The worst part was it was true. The number of times she had slain night ponies during her thousand-year imprisonment was far exaggerated, but it did happen. Then there was always the Night Pony War before her imprisonment when she massacred thousands, nearly driving the tribe to extinction. The shame and pain of it would haunt her for the rest of her life, and she was glad most ponies only knew of her crimes as Nightmare Moon. Still, she refused to give the disagreeable young mare the satisfaction of seeing the pain she inflicted with the barb. Jimsonweed's tongue was a weapon not meant to protect or conquer but instead meant to inflict the most pain possible—the weapon of an angry and hurt pony who only wanted to lash out and hurt others. Luna didn't know what to do with the mare despite years of effort trying to fix her. If not for the mare's cunning mind and the fear of what she might become if cast out yet again, Luna would wash her hooves of her in defeat.
"I think a short vacation to Earth trip to Earth would be ideal for you," Luna reasserted. "Find out what the Dreamwardens are up to and, more importantly, why. The quicker you find out, the shorter your trip needs to be. I trust you to be able to find out. The fact you are Krik's daughter and my emissary should get you a live audience with the living Dreamwardens."
Jimsonweed held up her nose. "Why should I? I'm not your servant. What do I get out of it?"
Luna sighed. "Fine, I'll give a sizable donation to your next expedition to the Hallowed Shades."
The young mare smiled. "I can accept that. You'll also pay for the best hotels and travel accommodations for my trip to Earth."
Luna rolled her eyes. "Fine. You'll leave tomorrow. Perhaps you should go prepare."
Jimsonweed didn't need any more prompting, although she gave her father a brief look as if she were considering whether it was okay to leave his side. Krik was getting on in years. He could no longer fly more than a few body lengths at a time, and he had a myriad of other health issues. There were two ponies Jimsonweed cared about, Flurry Heart and Krik, and these days, she was often hesitant to leave his side when he wasn't resting at home. The young mare must have accepted that Luna would see that he got home safely, and she left the balcony.
Krik made a few gestures with his wings.
Luna sighed. "I am giving your daughter a chance, but she needs to be less combative to every creature she encounters. This is a simple mission. Let's see if she can complete it without causing an incident."
Krik stared at her, unmoving.
Luna sipped her tea, finishing it off, and set the empty cup down. "I'll consider bailing her out if she gets arrested on Earth."
Krik glared some more.
Luna rolled her eyes. "Okay. I shall bail her out."
She looked down and saw Twilight was still going strong with her speech. Tia was still smiling, but the smile seemed very forced. Sunset Blessing was now sleeping where she stood; much of the audience looked to be in a similar state. There were still a lot of notecards.
"Waitress? Can you please bring me more tea? This is going to be a long one," Luna said with exasperation.
Jordan walked into the rec room and abruptly stopped as she saw Tempest lounging on one of the couches while Crystal watched television. Blanche and an unfamiliar human she didn't know sat playing an arcade game.
"Tempest? Crystal? What are you two doing here? Is Phobia here?" Jordan asked.
"Phobia is back at home. We were ordered to go to Denver, and we decided to come here rather than pay for a hotel," Tempest explained.
"We're waiting on a call," Crystal said. "Nice place you have here. Do you have anything to snack on?"
Jordan blinked. "What?!"
Crystal turned and looked at her. "Snacks. You know, little bits of food to tide you over between meals. Did we smack you around too hard when we were training you?"
Jordan shook her head. "I know what snacks are."
Crystal smiled. "Good! Do you have any?"
"Yebat!" the man who had been playing the video game with Blanche screamed as he threw up his hands.
"Oh, don't cry just because you lost. Do you want to win? Get better," Blanche chided him.
The man grumbled in some foreign language and tapped a button on the machine to continue the game.
"And start talking in English," Crystal added her chide.
The man rapidly babbled something off at her–not in English.
Jordan pointed a hoof at the man. "And who is that guy?"
"That's Arturo. I don't know his last name. He's one of the Warden of Order's people," Tempest informed her. "Don't worry, he's on Sunset Blessing's approved list. The guard at the gate checked. I'm as surprised as you he was on the list. He never set foot in the United States until a week ago, yet somehow he gets on the approved list."
The man said something, and Blanche slapped him on the arm. "Don't lie! You are not an old friend of her family. The Dreamwardens asked the old mare to add all the Elite to the approved list. Her house is too good a place to stop when traveling through Denver not to have us listed here."
Jordan just gaped. "So the entire lot of you can just come in and crash any time you want without even informing me?"
Crystal held up a hoof. "To be fair, we didn't know you had officially taken up residence here yet. I didn't even know you were the new owner till right before we arrived. What's up with that, Jordan? I thought we were friends. Nobody tells me anything."
"We thought you would have heard or read about it already," Blanche said, eyes still glued to the game.
"I don't watch the news. If the news is that big a deal, people will be talking about it," Crystal replied.
"And she complains no one tells her anything," Blanche laughed. Arturo laughed along with her. Jordan couldn't laugh. She was still trying to figure out how she ended up with four freeloaders.
"Okay," Jordan said as she gathered herself. "First, I'm going to make sure the guards tell me when guests are arriving from now on."
"We told Andrea," Crystal replied.
"Well, Andrea didn't tell me, and it's not Andrea's house," Jordan half-snapped. "Where is Andrea anyway?"
She got a set of collective shrugs in answer.
Jordan groaned. "I'm the youngest one here. Why do I have to be the grown-up? Second, you aren't eating all my food. I just restocked it, and it was gifted to me. I'm sure all of you have money. Somebody can order delivery or go to a drive-through or something."
Tempest's phone started ringing, and she held up a finger to silence Jordan as she answered it. The other three Dreamwarden bodyguards turned their full attention to her.
"Phobia, you have further instructions for us?" Tempest asked whoever was on the line. She sat silent, listening and frowning to whatever Phobia was telling her.
"Jordan can hear what I'm saying. I'm unsure if she can hear you," Tempest said after some time. She went silent again to listen. Jordan wished she could hear what her eldest sister was saying.
"And where do we find this person?" Tempest asked after another minute. A few seconds passed, and Tempest chuckled. "Arturo isn't going to like you for that."
Arturo shrugged.
Another minute passed, and Tempest rolled her eyes. "Birds, really? Can't we hire a pegasus or have Josie do some scouting?" She was silent for a few more seconds, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "I think Josie could avoid being seen with her shadow-melding, but as you say then. I still think the Marshmallow is being overly paranoid. Where do we find the bird pony?"
Another few seconds passed. She then nodded. "I understand. I'll let the others know."
"Well?" Blanche asked.
Tempest put her phone away. "You know who still hasn't been appeased enough, so we must now go on a wild goose chase that will have us crisscrossing state and national borders."
Crystal groaned. "Urgh! I wanted to head home. Now we have to go doing crazy stuff off the record."
Blanche crossed her arms. "We figured it was coming. They're milking us for all it's worth. She knows she can get away with whatever demands she wants while the Dreamwardens try to appease her. At least this is a good deed that we'll be doing."
"Shouldn't have to be our job to do it. It should be the feds. I'm not some covert ops soldier. If they want someone tracked down, they could have sent Arturo alone. He's the tracker," Crystal muttered. Arturo shrugged as if he didn't care.
Blanche smiled. "Glad I'm not the only one unhappy about this."
"Tracked down and shut down," Tempest clarified. "Arturo couldn't do that on his own."
Jordan's ears perked up. "So you four are leaving?"
Tempest shook her head. "Not just yet. Phobia said you had information on our next lead. What can you tell us about a partial child named Mark."
Jordan blinked in shock. "Mark? I met him. He's just a poor little orphan that Jessie has been helping out with. Why do you need to find out about him?"
Tempest's eyes hardened. "This isn't something Dreamwardens typically get involved in, as it has nothing to do with dreams or mind magic, but the government's ineffectiveness in stopping it has angered the Marshmallow and Ghadab. Arbiter has also been advocating for the Dreamwardens to take a more active role. Another entity has been quite angered by what is happening that the Dreamwardens are trying to get to cooperate with them on other matters. The Marshmallow and Ghadab have already been using agents to try to track down the operation and put a stop to it. Urgency in negotiations have made the rest of the Dreamwardens get involved when they were previously committed to staying out of the business of worldly authorities."
Blanche sighed. "It would have been nice if they told us all this before today. They don't need to be so secretive to us."
"Told you what? Taking care of what?" Jordan asked. "What does this have to do with a kid?"
Tempest sneered. "Somebody is trafficking people and doing horrible things to them. It's primarily partials, but also humans and ponies. That child's origins could be the lead we need to shut the entire operation down."
Jordan gasped and held a hoof up to her mouth. "I'll call Jessie right away."