//------------------------------// // The First Rodeo // Story: The Adventures of Dobbelsteen Moerman // by TheDiceMan0407 //------------------------------// August 20th 1010,  13:25 Yeahcon Valley Moerman’s Militia A gentle breeze threatened to toss some of her precious documents off of the table and onto the dirt below, but Swift Roller quickly shuffled them under an unlit lantern, her mind elsewhere. As her hazel eyes drifted over the columns, rows, and lists of equipment, the numbers of personnel and records of accountability, and the differences she was tasked with closing, it all blended in her mind in just the right way. Gently bobbing her head, pushing her dark brown mane behind her light blue coat, she kept a small smile as she shuffled through them. “Hm, hm, hm-hm hm hmm…”  Her humming flowed up and down, briefly stopping when her eyes squinted at a discrepancy, and tilted her head. No, she already accounted for that. She returned to humming, stuffing the papers away.  “Bum, Bum, Bum-bum bum-” She now gleefully smiled. “Do-do, do do-” A voice gently prodded from behind. “...Um, excuse me?” The humming continued.  Selenite leaned forward, clearing her throat. “Captain Roller?” Papers flew. Alerted out of her logistician’s daydream, Swift Roller swiftly turned around to be eye-to-eye with General Selenite. Not necessarily eye-to-eye, given the fact the Thestral officer was a whole head shorter than her, and the way both of them recoiled at the sudden movement didn’t help. Thankfully, both officers were able to snag the documents out of the air before they landed on the ground. “Oh, terribly sorry, ma’am, I must have lost track of time.” Selenite shook her head, holding out her hoof full of documents back to Swift Roller. “W-Well, I should have knocked -” “On a tent?” She looked to the side. “Well, if this is your humming time, it's rude to interrupt.” The two officers stared at each other for a moment, before breaking out into gentle giggling, Swift Roller shaking her head. “It’s just something I do when I get into long bouts of thinking. Makes it more fun as I keep track of more things.” Setting the documents down, she held up a hoof. “But… don't tell any other ponies, please. I got weird looks when I first started doing it.” “Your secret is safe with me.” Selenite gave a smile, moving over to her side as the two of them averted their eyes onto the table. Gentle wind flowed from the forest that surrounded them, causing a gentle flap in the tent. The walls of the tent were rolled up, with groups of ponies working the earth, and the occasional Pegasus flying by. “My guns aren’t exactly the strongest of calibers, but I’ve had my Night Guard work to build them into the defenses.” Selenite’s hooves placed themselves onto the map she brought. “This is an overview of the Yeahcon Valley.” The supply officer blinked her hazel eyes. “Uhh…” She looked over. “There’s… nothing really on here.” “Exactly,” Selenite grinned. “Because that’s exactly where we have the best shot.” Turning her gaze to the few markings on the map, she ran her hoof down one of its bolder lines. “There exists one major railway in the valley. It runs directly from Salt Lick City, through where we are, up these hills, and onto Yonderhill itself.” Barely holding in her excitement, the small Thestral leaned over to Swift Roller. “...Notice anything?” “Well,” Swift Roller said, bringing her hoof to her muzzle to think. “If the rail is the only thing cutting through all of this forest, that's probably the path the Changelings will take.” Her eyes were brought up away from the map and to her surroundings. “And this is the same railway we’re positioning ourselves on?” Selenite grinned, pointing at the map. “We are here, at this railway junction. It leads to Whitebell in the north, Pine Creek in the south, and Yonderhill straight through. It’s a pretty important place.” Swift Roller’s pupils gradually receded. “That… sounds like a very important target.” “Or,” General Selenite said, “A perfect opportunity. You received new shipments of ammunition and shells for our artillery, correct?” Swift nodded. “Of course.” “Rations for the next three days at least?” “Four days.” Swift Roller boasted a smaller smile than her counterpart. “I’ve kept a record of incoming medical supplies as well to be dispersed amongst the platoon medics -” She raised her head, flipping through her papers on the table. “Not to mention our water supply as well -” She breathed a sigh, “If I’m honest, General Selenite, this may be the first time we’re… fully supplied.” “Then the hard part is done.” Selenite grinned, stepping away from the table and looking out of the tent. Before her, hard wooden rail lines surrounded by pine forests met in a large, sweeping interchange in a clearing, spreading off in four directions. Mounds of dirt and sandbags were piled up and staged, as the shapes of ramparts and foxholes were beginning to take shape. “You have the most difficult job here, Captain Roller.” Swift blinked. “R-Really?” Selenite nodded. “As long as my Night Guard,” stopping for a moment, she gave a shrug, “And Moerman’s soldiers, if they can keep up, have their supplies? We can fight all day.” Captain Swift Roller trotted over to Selenite's side, holding her papers in her left hoof. Her bright blue coat contrasted heavily with the dark gray of Selenites, not to mention their height and uniform difference, they were practically complete opposites. Still, they both smiled at the prospect. “I’m sure we can fight all night, too, General.” Roller smiled. “My friends in this unit are the bravest ponies I’ve ever met.” Selenite actually let out a laugh, turning to face her friend. “The day is yours to fight, Captain.” She said, before making a small show of adjusting her crisp, Night Guard uniform. “But the night is ours to win.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Moerman’s Militia Center of the Railway crossing Steel Charts had brought his head up from the map in his hooves to his surroundings, and back down to the map about four or five times before he finally accepted the reality of the situation. “Fine… I suppose we won’t have any pillboxes.” Waiting at his side, with very little patience, Brisk Sweeper sighed in relief. “We barely have the materials to construct an outhouse for everypony, much less a line of bunkers to turn this place into Canterlot!” “Bunkers require concrete.” Steel Charts said, folding the map and putting it in his uniform. “You can make a pillbox out of sandbags if you want -” “WE DON'T HAVE THAT MANY SANDBAGS EITHER!” Glaring at one another, Steel Charts and Brisk Sweeper turned their gazes to an approaching Earth Pony, who took off his helmet to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow under his brown mane. Jungle Trek just shook his head as he approached. “Great to see the engineers aren’t digging any trenches out there with us.” Steel Charts blinked his charcoal eyes, much like his coat. “Those tank traps you see down this rail line aren’t much, but scattered like that, they should hold back any advancing Changeling Tanks.” He shrugged. “That is, if they bring any all the way out here.” “If they did, I’m sure Moerman already blew it up in his patrols.” Jungle Trek peered down the rail line. Sure enough, behind a line of sandbags, mounds of dirt, and assorted ponies on watch, a dozen heaps of raw metal sat cluttered in no particular pattern. “...Shouldn’t they be placed on some sort of line?” Steel Charts shook his head. “Major’s instructions. No tanks driving around all those anyway, and they’re too scattered to cover any good amount of enemy soldiers.” Brisk Sweeper leaned in. “Jungle, how far are you spreading us out in the forest? We don’t have that many ponies to begin with, and however many they are coming at us with, it's surely a whole lot more than what we’ve got.” “Well, if we don’t hold it, any refugees from Tall Tale woulda’ went through all those tunnels for nothing.” Jungle held his helmet in his hoof, pointing down the railroad tracks. “Applejack and Pinkie Pie already arrived with whatever reinforcements they could muster.” Steel Charts looked in confusion from Trek to Brisk Sweeper. “I'm still surprised somepony that important, let alone two, came out here" “Hopefully, they can make miracles, Jungle.” Brisk Sweeper said. “We barely got out of Fairflanks and Salt Lick alive, and I don't like our re-debut onto the battlefield being this. This could end terribly, and we can’t count on strokes of good luck as we have been.” Jungle Trek tilted his head. “You seriously do not have an ounce of belief in your body.” His rifle had been slung across his back, his uniform darkened by trudging up earth from the forest. “Now, are you two coming to help me dig trenches, or are you fine with second-guessing everything?” Brisk Sweeper sighed, trotting over past Jungle Trek and Steel Charts. “Somepony has to.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Moerman’s Militia About 100 yards away “Why do they get such cooler uniforms than WE do?” Berry Twist slung the radio gently off his back and onto the dirt below, looking out to his left and right at the ponies working in the woodline of the pine forest around the railroad junction. “Strawberry, are our uniforms less cool than the Night Guard ponies?” Turning her head away from the assembly of sandbags in front of her, Strawberry Cinnamon brought her rifle into her lap and brushed aside her red mane. “I don't think so.” She glanced down. “I think our purple uniforms have a nice simplicity to them.” Her comrade only squinted. “You just called our uniforms lame.” She tilted her head, “There is beauty in simplicity.” Trotting forward to the sandbag line, Berry Twist dragged his radio behind the sandbags. “They said they wanted this radio right up at the frontline, so they could talk to all the other positions.” He said, looking over. “So, I guess that means we’re hanging out.” “...Do you have any snacks?” Berry Twist squinted. “I have to pay rent in this foxhole?” The two laughed, as Strawberry Cinnamon shifted over behind her sandbag and leveled her rifle back on top of her fortification. Berry Twist, meanwhile, began setting up the peculiar impromptu radio station. Though her eyes focused down the rail line, which stretched out into the far distance and consumed by the pine forest, Strawberry Cinnamon’s mind drifted elsewhere. It wasn’t too long ago, not long at all. It didn't take much for Strawberry to have her eyes haze over and her mind drift back to that bumpy, awful truck ride weeks ago. Her mind became tortured with the faces of her friends, the profound sadness and defeat she felt in that very moment lingering in her stomach. Shifting her head, she looked away from the sights of her rifle and to her side. Berry Twist, who sat next to her in the truck, was terrified. She wondered if he somehow hid it better than she did. “...Twist?” Berry stopped, the purple-coated stallion turning away from his radio at her tone of voice. “Somethin’ wrong?” Strawberry lowered her rifle in her lap once more. “So… you remember when this first started, and they took us into that truck? Away from Fairflanks?” Lowering his head slightly, he nodded.  “I wanted to talk about it.” Strawberry sighed. “Not really to bring the mood down or anything, but how that moment felt, and still kind of feels. You sat next to me in the truck, and you were a little scared -” “Strawberry, I was absolutely terrified.” Somehow, that got the both of them laughing. Berry Twist continued to speak, adjusting some knobs on his radio. “I know, and you were too. We were in a bad situation.” He ran a hoof through his mane with a sigh. “But… we got out. We shouldn’t keep our minds locked in a cage after we already broke out of one.” “I wouldn’t say we broke out.” Strawberry looked back over the sandbag. “We had quite the unusual help. But, yeah I just wanted to make sure you were okay after all of that. If it bothered me, I know it must have bothered you.” Brisk smiled. “I think we’re going to get our fair share of payback.” He did, however, raise his head. “...Still. Wonder how in Tartarus that Griffon showed up out of nowhere… and for wha -” He felt a nudge against his side, Strawberry Cinnamon nodding in a certain direction.  “Talk about being held prisoner, at least you’re not attending that class.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 80 Yards Away The Longest Firearms Instruction Class In Equestrian History “Most soldiers when they’re shot can't believe it.” Shooting Steps explained. Her hooves held her scoped bolt action rifles. “Oftentimes you’ll see a Changeling pop their head up, thinking they can only get shot once. Usually, the second shot is easier than the first, and you can get a really good one that sprays that ichor -” Two dozen ponies stared in fear. The silent, gruff sniper pony just sighed. “...So, this isn’t a safe space, I see.” At her side, a slightly disturbed Sapphire Stream shifted the conversation. “Well, let's go back to being on topic. Now, the chances that you all will have to take my machine gun from my lifeless body are -” She paused to laugh, before quickly dropping to a stern glare. “Zero.”  The ponies didn’t know who was worse. Sapphire beamed back up into a cheerful tone. “But, just in case, this:” She said, before holding up her weapon. “is a machine gun. It feeds ammunition from this big circle that clicks in on top of it, like so.” She pounded the magazine with her hoof on top of the weapon for emphasis. “Now, who can tell me what a machine gun does?” “Kill Bugs.” “I wasn’t asking you, Steps.” One of the ponies in the crowd raised her hoof. “Uh… shoot really fast?” Stream smiled, continuing. “Absolutely, it does shoot very fast. So fast that the heat of its firing could melt the barrel if you aren’t careful. Short bursts conserve both ammunition and the weapon itself.” She held her hoof up, closing her eyes in pride as if she were a professor. “A good rule of hoof is to say to yourself, ‘I like cupcakes with fries’!” Shooting Steps grinned. “Or, you could say, ‘Die Mother-” “NO!” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 50 Yards Away Sitting on the wooden beams that made up the railroad tracks, Sunrise Dare scarfed down another spoonful of her ration, hardly taking the time to chew before asking another question. “So, where have you been, anyway?” Yellow Rock shrugged. “Here and there. Our squads kinda all have been separated these past couple of days, filling in holes left in other platoons and such. Me most of all though. A simple riflemare is ‘tradeable’ and all that.” Sunrise practically choked on her food. Considering how often she talked with her mouth full, it's a miracle she didn’t. “That is SO not true. You can totally beat up five changelings with your bare hooves! Like me!” Yellow Rock laughed, “Not what I was saying, and it's not a bad thing either.” She took a bite out of her own ration. “Plus, I got to go along a lot of the patrols with the Major. Until he, you know… figured out I went on three of them in a row.” Seeing the look her friend gave, she raised her hoof in defense. “I just wanted to help! I wasn’t tired or anything!” Sunrise sighed. “I know. I wanted to do the same thing.” She reached over for her canteen, taking a sip of it before wiping her mouth with her hoof. With a shake of her head, Sunrise Dare shook out her red mane. “But, I was able to hang out and help Swift Roller with taking inventory of stuff, which was nice.” “That sounds boring.” “Well, yeah,” Sunrise said with a roll of her eyes, “But hanging out with Swift Roller is cool. She’s a bit of a nerd, so some stuff goes over my head, but she’s really cool when you get to know her. It’s gotta be even more boring doing that stuff alone.” Yellow Rock nodded. “Yeah. Guess who I had to hang out with these past couple of days. Brisk Sweeper.” “...That’s rough.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t too bad. Brisk is just… right about a lot of things.” She smiled. “And he never turns down an opportunity to remind you. But he gave me some of his snacks, which was nice of him! I didn’t even ask!” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Back at the tents Applejack held her hat in her hoof, gently squeezing it as her eyes hovered over the map. The breeze had picked up slightly, rustling her mane and blowing a few strands over her eyes. She blew them up and out of her sight with a sigh. “I reckon ah’ve done s’much as I can,” She brought her hoof to the distant town of Yonderhill. “Most’a my ponies are diggin’ in along the hills’a the town, in case the worst comes ta’ pass. Only six dozen or so came with me and Pinkie ta’ tow the guns themselves.” Selenite tilted her head. “Who told you all to hold on to the hills of Yonderhill?” Sprouting out of nowhere in particular, a cheerful pink pony appeared at the side of the Thestral, in between her and Applejack. “Prince Blueblood did, silly!” She paused, bringing her hoof. “Or…is now a General? I wonder what title comes first.” The Night Guard commander’s eyes saw red. “I could think of a few -” Swift Roller quickly leaned in, hiding her nervousness with a chuckle. “Well, uhm… that’s fine! The supplies you did bring brought us up to our full capacity, and we should have enough towed artillery pieces to hold off the Changelings.” Selenite dragged her hoof down her face quite slowly. With a deep breath, she trotted away from the table. “We need to talk with Jungle Trek. “ Applejack looked around. “Is he the pony out by those barricades, barkin’ orders?” “No, that’s Steel Charts.” Selenite raised her hoof. “Jungle Trek is the pony digging that trench in that group. He’s the one with the obnoxiously long brown mane.” Swift Roller covered her mouth, stifling a chuckle. “I won’t tell him you said that.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Under the shade of the Pine trees, which swayed back and forth with the gentle wind, a comfortably sized foxhole held two ponies. Caramel Crunch was hard at work, his nimble hooves tying a small bandage around his patient’s left hoof, his brow scrunched in concentration. Wild Strikes just huffed. “It doesn’t matter how small a cut is.” The small, brown pony finished tying it off, closing the medical bag on his back. “Any breach of the skin that causes bleeding can bring in any type of bacteria, infection, or disease. Then you’ll be wishing I did this.” “I am a soldier, Crunch.” Wild Strikes brought up her wings proudly. “I can take as much damage as anypony else. More so, in fact!” Caramel squinted. “Yeah, I know. The point is you not having to.” The white pegasus raised their hoof. “Hey, Major Mar…Mer… How do you say his name again?”” “I just uh… I just say the Major.” “Yeah, well HE -” She said with a smile, before pointing to herself. “Said I was one of the best scouts he’d ever seen when we were on our last patrol. He said I could totally go to special forces!” Slowly, her wings deflated. “...If Equestria had any.” Caramel tried to hide his grin, resting his back against the wall of the foxhole. “The Major is special forces, I think. Some kind of commando.” He held the rifle in his hooves. “He might make us Equestria’s new special forces.” The two of them got huge grins on their faces, facing each other in the foxhole. Wild Strikes and Caramel Crunch both leaned forward, their rifles in their laps. Caramel smiled, “I heard that they get to do raids in the middle of the night, super behind-enemy-lines kind of stuff.” Wild Strikes grinned, “We both signed up as infantry ponies together. Why not join special forces together?” “Provided you don't get hurt anymore, Strikes.” Caramel held up his hoof. “Promise?” “Well, YOU have to promise too!” “Fine, I promise. We both promise.” Wild Strikes nodded. “We both promise.”  The two of them nodded in satisfaction with their demands, though neither leaned away from the other. Cramped in the foxhole, and even more cramped from their leaned, excited postures. Their smiles became less excited, and more so content in the moment. The wind ruffled their manes as it shifted the branches of the pine trees, small beams of sunlight cascading through the gaps in their leaves and onto the two of them. The Sunlight’s small highlights highlighted the orange streak in Wild Strike’s blue mane and sparkled in Caramel Crunch’s eyes. “...If you did get hurt,” Wild Strikes said, “I’d just carry you.” Caramel giggled. “You’re not a doctor, though. I’d have to bandage myself.” Strikes shrugged. “I could just fly you to a hospital.” “Could you fly me home?” BONK! The two lovebirds were shaken out of their romantic moment by the sudden appearance of none other than Dobbelsteen Moerman, who had gently hit Caramel Crunch on his helmet. “Hey, NERDS! What's my security posture looking like?” Lacking any response as they quickly sprung up to attention, they heard another voice call down the trench line. “Lies, Mr. Moerman!” Jungle Trek said, holding his rifle in his hooves. “I had you in my sights the whole time!” “Then why didn’t you take the shot, coward?” Far from the woodline, Shooting Steps angrily brought down her detached scope away from the frightened pair of ponies, before deflating in sadness. To her side, Sapphire Stream looked away from the assembly of ponies, all of whom were getting back up after the end of the class, and nudged her friend. “You uh… okay there, Shooting Steps?” “I was watching that.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Center of the Railroad Crossing Lucky Twirl was practically tripping over her hooves, concentrating her gaze on Moerman as they both walked rather than the ground in front of her. Nonetheless, her smile was beginning to grow with each word. “Overall, Twirl, you did very well.” The Griffon adjusted his Officer cap, seemingly content with the amount of dirt that had stuck to his uniform. “Your enthusiasm will carry you far in any and all combat situations that you find yourself in. I’m sure you learned that when we got into a few skirmishes with the Changelings on the march.” “Yes sir, absolutely!” The small, green-coated pony said,  “But, are you sure? I always worry that I might rush into making the wrong decision, and I don't want to let anypony else down.” She stopped, and so did he, as she sighed. “I… want to prove that I’m good for command. That they can trust me, not because they have to, but because they want to.” Moerman smiled, his claw pushing his sunglasses further up his beak. “We’re all our own worst critics. But it's good you know that at some points, you need to act, and some you need to think. Never be afraid to take that tactical pause.” He looked around, acting it out. “Where are my ponies? Where is the enemy? How do I maneuver my elements to defeat the enemy, or retreat from him safely?” He smiled, giving her a quick pat on the shoulder with his claw. “Four questions. The answers should be easy to find out, and they’re all you need.” Lucky Twirl nodded vigorously. “Understood, sir. I’ll commit it to memory.” Grinning, Dobbelsteen gave a small salute. “Nopony believed in me either, at first. That’s where most legends come from. Dismissed.” As Lucky Twirl trotted off, softly smiling to herself, Dobbelsteen Moerman approached a group of very familiar ponies. “I hope the news you bring to this soldier is good, Selenite.” He came to a stop. “Because if not, I’m punching Jungle.” “W-What?” “Ready yer’ claws, Mr. Moerman,” Applejack said as Moerman joined the circle at her side. Pinkie Pie, Selenite, and Jungle Trek stood with each other. “Ah’ve only brought a detachment ta’ help move Pinkie Pie’s Artillery pieces, with the help’a their crews. The rest’a my ponies are all over in Yonderhill, diggin’ in.” Dobbelsteen matted with dirt, dragged his eyes to every pony in the circle. “We’re facing three thousand Changelings, perhaps even more.” He brought up his wing to point behind him. “I got no more than eleven hundred, and that's including all of Selenite’s soldiers.” Jungle deadpanned. “You want to guess who told them to stay there?” “Awesome.” Dobbelsteen said, nodding. “Great in fact.” Turning around, he yelled across the railroad tracks. “SHOOTING STEPS, HOW MUCH FOR AN ASSASSINATION?” Moerman barely caught the mare tilting her head in consideration from far off before he was yanked back to the conversation by Selenite. “Three thousand is something we can deal with. Backup defenses on Yonderhill isn’t… a terrible idea, necessarily.” Pinkie Pie tilted her head. “But… by the time they get to Yonderhill, wouldn’t they have already cut off the evacuation tunnel routes? They’d have to wander through the whole valley that's occupied by Changelings!” Moerman raised his claw quickly. “I saw your sister digging those tunnels.” He smiled. “Off topic, but, I just remembered. She said she was doing great.” Pinkie Pie smiled. “Oh, Maud is a world-class Engineer. She’s got a Ph.D. in Archeology, you know!” “Does she really?” “Nope!” Applejack sighed, “Ah’m real sorry ‘bout all’a this. I brought s’many spare ponies as I could’a, but it really isn't much. We arrived when you were out on yer’ patrol, so Selenite and I just had ‘em help Jungle Trek out with the fortifications.” Jungle nodded. “Did you see anything else out there?” Moerman shook his head. “They moved in platoons, but a lot of the time in trucks. Engines. They’re not really expecting us to hit them first, so we could always hear them coming. The good thing is, they’re severely underestimating us. Even though they got the advantage, they’re relying on it to win the battle for them.” “Well it sure won't,” Selenite said. “I don't have too many powerful gun teams, but I’ve managed to spread them throughout the line as their own units. It should scare the Changelings off, provided they don't have anything larger.” Applejack looked at Selenite. “We can’t rely solely on that. This ain’t just a battle that we have ta’ survive ‘er hold a defense. It’s much more’n that. We need ta’ win. Undeniably. We need ta’ show ponies that we’re still in this fight.” She brought her hat off her head, looking down. “All Equestria’s known this whole war is defeat after defeat. We have ta’ pull somethin’ grand if we want ta’ win.” Jungle Trek held his helmet in his hoof, gesturing with it. “There’s not many ponies to hold them off, Applejack. We’re remnants of a border guard unit called up mere days before the start of the war. You and I can’t really be on our high command either.” He sighed. “We’re alone. Like always, outnumbered three to one, fighting against the best of the best.” “Then it is an even fight,” Moerman said. “We’ve survived worse, Jungle.” “We’ll only survive until the next battle, Moerman,” Jungle said. “One day we won’t be able to run anymore.” “We’re gonna stop running now.” Dobbelsteen brought up his claw and pointed all around him. “There is nothing but nature for a hundred miles in any direction, and this is the only place the Changelings can force a battle. No dirty tricks, no hulking technology.” He adjusted his sunglasses. “There are only ponies and their rifles. The best chance we have of a victory is right here.” Selenite shook her head. “There’s no infrastructure, Moerman, nothing but forest and swamp. We don't have the forces to make enveloping maneuvers on the enemy, nor the firepower to destroy them.” “Feathisia is nothing but swamps and forests,” Dobbelsteen said, “It's a maze, impossible to move through, an unforgiving environment that is engineered to exhaust and disorient you. The Changeling Army has rolled over the fancy, well-maintained cities of the North and the coast, but this is my world they’re walking into.” He looked over to Applejack with a grin. “This ain’t my first rodeo.” Applejack clearly thought for a moment, her eyes scanning the woodline of fortifications, and then recalling the map that was laid out under the tents not long ago. “Neither’s it mine. Those overconfident buzzards will have walked right inta’ the last place their army ever wants ta’ be.” “And!” Pinkie Pie called out, with a cheerful smile. “That’s exactly what we want. It is just like a rodeo, at a party! You just wrap your hooves around -” Moerman finished her sentence with a grin, “And you don’t let go.”