//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: Gryphony, 1937 // Story: Daring Do and the Curse of the Lost Tomb // by Fedora //------------------------------// A lone truck puttered down the empty road amidst the rolling thunder. A grassy meadow sat on either side, and the blades were swaying to and fro in the wind gust signaling the approach of a storm. The truck was beating a steady path towards a rather secluded facility. Just around the corner from the grassy meadow was a rather thick coniferous forest, the sunlight cutting through the thick trees intermittently to reflect off the green surface of the vehicle. The driver looked through the windshield at the path ahead, which he had traveled many times in the past five years the facility had been open. He had taken many prisoners to their fate, sometime one at a time like this current shipment, sometimes in groups of up to twenty at once. He had taken different kinds of prisoners, too. Sometimes they were his own kind, the gryphons. Sometimes they were equines. Very rarely was there something other than those two species, but it had happened before. In the woods another form trotted behind the truck, quite a ways away. Perhaps it desired to remain unseen, or perhaps it had a difficult time keeping up with the moving vehicle on the open road, or both. It was short and absolutely covered in dirt and grime. Some of it had been intentionally placed on the small pony's coat as a way to hide it from sharp eyes. Some of it was the result of having to hide in culverts, ditches, and in other odd places when following the truck. The pony was actually a filly, and she had been trailing the same truck all day, albeit with a growing distance all the time. She felt exhausted, but the thought of what might happen if she lost the truck kept her on her hooves constantly. The thickets of the forest were her current enemy and impeded her ability to follow greatly as the last sounds of the engine disappeared. She turned her head skyward, feeling the wind picking up and hearing the first rumblings of thunder. Rain would be arriving very soon. In time the truck came to a stop at a set of gates, where a few Gryphon soldiers stood at attention as guards. The gate was opened up, and the truck passed onward towards the prison. The truck made its stop at the main prison center, and another guard opened the back door from the air, while another guarded the opening. With a loaded gun pointed at her back, the prisoner was led out from the back of the truck. The pony glared at her captors through clenched teeth, but only received a swift kick to the flank to proceed. She was led up the concrete stairs in front of the main building, and then through a series of hallways. The pony looked up at the signs as she was led in, remembering the numbers. A1, A4, B3, B7, C2, and then finally C5. In hallway C5 she was abruptly stopped, and one of the guards opened a cell door on the left. This level was dark, damp, and cold due to its proximity to the outside. The pony was forcefully shoved into the cell, and the metal bars slid shut behind her. **** Through the thickets and the brambles came the same filly that had been trailing the truck. Walking in the forest had slowed her down greatly, and she felt lost. All around her were thick woods and undergrowth, brambles and vines that seemed to choke up the light from the grayish sky. She presses on, trying to flap her wings and make her way past a particularly overgrown bush. Her wings weren't strong enough for much more than a slight hovering, and so she too the long route around, losing more time and stumbling over roots. For perhaps an entire half hour she struggled through the dense woods, until she came to a set of green bushes on the edge of a green lawn. She cautiously poked her head through, just enough to view the tall prison complex on the other side and the tremendous gate. The filly watched from the bushes, trying to think of a way to get past the gate. Though a pegasus, her flying ability was hindered much like most pegasus foals her age. She couldn't walk right on in, as the gate was guarded by some very mean looking soldiers. There was a fence surrounding the perimeter, and she could very well get to that if she backtracked a bit and tried to go around, out of sight from the guards. She'd try to climb over it, or dig under if that wasn't possible. "Hey George?" asked one of the guards, which made the filly freeze. "Yeah?" the second responded. "Who was that?" "Some pony prisoner, didn't you see?" "Yeah, she was all decked out like some kind of explorer." The two guards looked at each other. The filly kept her ears attentive as they continued to chatter. "I'm not getting a name. Some kinda fiasco happen?" "Didn't you hear?" "No...." No doubt they meant the situation that had led to this whole mess. The filly started considering just trying to sneak past them if they were going to be this distracted. "Well, I think she's in for graverobbing or something. They've got her on level C5 though, totally empty. You know, the one with that grate on the side?" An open grate on the side, the filly thought to herself. She had a lead! "Whoah," the guard exclaimed, "That's for the ones they can't trust with the other prisoners. I remember they put old Grizburn there, after he started riots...." **** "Don't expect anything anytime soon. It's gonna be a long stay in solitary for you, pony." The guards walked away, leaving the mare sitting in her prison cell. The only light came from the slotted grate on the wall of her cell, which was level with the ground. After sitting on her side for a few minutes on the cold stone floor, the pony stood up on her back hooves in an attempt to see through the grate. She caught a glimpse of the lawn, and a thick, brambly treeline in the distance. The cloudy sky darkened and rumbled, and the crash of thunder confirmed for her that it was indeed going to downpour. Sighing, the pony sat back down on the floor. She had nothing to entertain herself with but her own thoughts. No other prisoners were being kept in this area, and the only sounds came from the rumbling sky and a single rat scurrying across the floor in the adjacent cell. She took off her hat, and held it in her hooves for a few minutes, studying it in detail in the dim lighting. It was a pith helmet, one that was a light khaki in shade and had greenish trim on the sides. A few holes and scuffs were visible across the sides, from years of abuse in the harshest environments the world had to offer. The brim and the inside showed the telltale signs of heavy use and wear. Even the green cloth was stained in places where it had been drenched in sweat repeatedly over the years. There was nothing to do at the moment, and so she laid her head against the cracked and dirty concrete and allowed her fatigue to wash over. Outside, the steady pitter-patter tapping noises signaled the coming of the rain. The occasional wind gust would blow wet mist and vapor into the cell, and the pony sitting in it felt it moisten her face and mane. She didn't know how long she sat like this, eyes closed while feeling water droplets hit her face, but her attention was drawn to a figure crouching near the grate near the top of the wall that served as the pony's only window to the outside world. Turning her attention to the form, she was able to tell that it was a filly tapping on the bars in an attempt to get her attention. The filly had an orange coat and a grayish brown mane, though given her current state of dirtiness it would have been impossible to tell. "Dr. Do, are you okay?" asked the filly in a quiet voice. The pony in the cell nodded, and stood up onto her hind legs again, bringing her face closer to the filly's. "Yeah, I'm alright," Daring whispered, "What about you, kid? Didn't I tell you to lay low and get help later? How did you get here?" "I couldn't just let them take you to some weird unknown place," answered the filly in a low voice. "How did you get in?!" "Tree branch went over the fence. They've got guards on the front and the corners, but not on the sides. I was small enough to get through their blind spot.... I've got some stuff with me in your bag. I've been following the truck all day. Well, most of the day, on account of I stopped to grab a couple of tools." "Grab? How did you grab them?" "Well, borrowed without permission might be more like it." "Scootaround!" said Daring sternly, and then lowered her voice even more after realizing she had been a bit too loud, "What have I told you about thievery?! I thought you were better than that!" "Calm down, Dr. Do," Scootaround said, raising a hoof, "I only took it from one of their mechanics at a checkpoint. Plus, are you gonna complain if it can get you out of this place?" Daring considered that. She made a motion for Scootaround to open the bag slung over her shoulder, which she did. Inside it was a metalworking hacksaw, and though it was made for Gryphon claws it was capable of slicing through metal. Metal such as the bars on the grate. "Bless you Scoots," Daring exclaimed quietly. Scootaround beamed, and proceeded to pass the bladed tool through to Daring, so that she could could apply pressure from one end while Scootaround did the same from the outside. The two ponies fit the small blade next to the first bar, and began working. And working. And working. Minutes turned into entire half-hours, and they had little more than three of the seven bars done after much work and spent effort. However, both knew that this was Daring's only shot. She had been captured for trespassing on Gryphon military property, and though she was trying to reclaim an artifact that had been taken from her she was still able to be imprisoned under Gryphon military law, and so they had jumped at the opportunity to finally imprison Daring Do. It was a draconian punishment that stemmed from a long held mutual hatred, and it would be some time until leaders from Equestria would be able to negotiate her release. Unless they were willing to test the already tense relations between Equestria and Gryphony, they would not send in any kind of clandestine rescue team. Her getting out of there rested on whether or not she and her young charge could continue cutting despite their exhausted bodies' protests. And so they cut, and cut, and cut. The last of the bars gave way well after nighttime had fallen. No one had come to give Daring any food. With the last of the bars eliminated, the way was clear for Daring to get out of her cell. The archaeologist pony squeezed through the tight space. Her head went through first, then her front legs and wings, and then finally her flanks and posterior. Once her grayish tail finally made it through, Daring stood up, panting after the struggle. Both she and Scootaround had extremely sore forelegs, but their ordeal was not over yet. "They'll find out soon enough. Come on kid, let's get out of here," Daring said, bumping hoofs with the filly. Daring's words would come true less than a minute later, as alarms all over the prison began howling into the dark. In the driving rain it was hard to see more than three feet in front of one's self, but Daring and Scootaround had to get out immediately. "Get on my back!" yelled Daring, and the filly obediently got onto her back, being mindful of her wings. The pony reared back, and thundered forwards across the muddy ground. Though she slipped and slid, she picked up enough momentum to get airborne. Daring's wings spread, and together the two ponies flew up and over the fence, swooping back down to land among the trees as soon as they were clear of the prison. They landed not a moment too soon, as lightning struck nearby with a resounding crash that shook the earth. Sopping wet, Scootaround dismounted Daring's back, and the two ran through the forest. The trees shook in the storm's wind, and driving rain reached down past the tops of the trees to make both the ponies and the mud beneath their hooves wet and slippery. "They're going to send teams out to comb the area for us," Daring said, having to project in order to be heard over the roar of the wind. "Are we gonna hide or try to keep going?" asked Scootaround. Daring shook her head. "We can't risk staying around here and being caught. They know this area, and where prisoners might try to hide out. If we keep going, we can outpace them." And so they kept running, through the forest's muddy floor and through turbulent stream beds gorged with water from the ongoing storm. Through marsh, bog, and meadow they trekked, keeping a low profile when cover was sparse. Gradually the unforgiving severity of the storm died down, until it was little more than scattered showers and an ever-present drizzle. Mist and fog made it difficult to see, and night's darkness was on its way. It was then, after hours of running away, that Daring decided to find a place to hide. "We need to sleep," she said, cutting a trail through grass that was much taller than either of them. The grassy meadow gave way to an unexpected sight. Where Daring had wagered on seeing another forest's edge, she saw the scattered pinpricks of light indicating a village. She was unsure whether to proceed, or to turn back. It was Scootaround who noticed the village sign, and read it aloud. "Talonsville," the filly read, "Hey Dr. Do, isn't that the place you stayed this winter?" Daring turned her head to look at the sign, eyes widening. She looked back to Scootaround, grinning. "No, that was Talonsburg, but I do know somepony who lives in Talonsville. She'll help us out, I'm sure. C'mon, we shouldn't stay out here for too long." **** A low thumping sound on the wooden door was barely distinguishable from the distant crash of thunder, but the keen-eared mare with the greenish coat sitting by the evening's fire was able to tell that there was somepony at the door. She stood up from her knitting, and stretched her legs out a bit before going and opening the door to her cozy little inn. She was very surprised to be greeted by Daring Do, an old friend of hers from years ago. She was not surprised to see Daring completely covered from head to hoof in mud. "Daring! How long it's been!" she exclaimed, raising a hoof to bump with the archaeologist pony, "I would give you a hug or something, but I don't want to have to take another bath. Please, do come in, but wipe yourself off... if you can even get all that stuff off." Her attention was turned to a small orange filly with a very messy mane, which still had sticky pine sap and dirt smeared into it. The greenish mare raised an eyebrow, looking at the filly. "And who is this? Daring, forgive me for asking, but who is your charge? Is she your foal?" "No, nothing like that," Daring said, her cheeks turning a little red, "I've yet to settle down with a stallion, and I'm not really actively looking for one. Still a little young to be starting a family, you know? No no no, this is Scootaround, she's.... well, introduce yourself kid!" "I'm Scootaround, escape artist extraordinaire," Scootaround stated, "Pleased to meet you miss...." "Mrs. Pasternson. My husband's asleep in his chair, his name is Gregory, or Greg for short. Please do come in." She led them into the living room, which was small for a living room, but given that most of the space the house had had been used to convert it into a five-room inn, it was of little consequence. Daring and Scootaround sat themselves down on the stone floor, close to the fire in order to warm up and dry off. Daring's mane was still dripping every now and then, and Scootaround's was a complete mess. "So how are you, Daring? Gosh, I haven't seen you since, what was it.... '32?" inquired Mrs. Pasternson. She had a slight accent, which had probably been acquired by speaking Gryphonese in her business. It was unclear whether or not the snoring bulk of a Gryphon laying in the corner could speak Equestrish or not. Daring smiled for a moment, realizing how hard it would be to compact the past five years of her life into a few sentences. She had done a LOT. "I've been better, I suppose. I've spent the last... geez, it's been more than a decade that I've been doing this. Same old same old, you know. Another day, another dungeon," Daring answered. She was given a cup of some kind of liquid by the green mare, and after taking a sip she raised her eyebrows. "Wow, this is pretty sweet. What is it?" Daring asked. "Wine imported from Prance, dated 1929," the green mare responded. She poured herself a glass, and was about to pour a third when Daring stopped her. "Scootaround will have something different, please," Daring requested. Mrs. Pasternson looked confused for a moment, and then clapped a hoof to her forehead. "Oh, I'm very sorry. I forgot about Equestria's customs about..." "It's fine," Daring said, cutting her friend off and smiling. Scootaround had a look of utter confusion on her face, not knowing what on earth was going on. A moment later she had a glass of water and was contented to drink that. Mrs. Pasternson settled down herself, and sighed. "Well, what brings you two to our humble little village?" she asked, "I'd expect you to be somewhere off in the jungles right about now, Daring." "Well," Daring started, frowning, "not everything I do is in the jungle. This was actually supposed to be a business trip, but things kind of fell apart." "How so?" the mare asked, looking concerned. "Well, let's just say that this 'Imperial Police Force' has some pretty stupid definitions of what is and isn't trespassing. I mean, I was trying to document some rather important structures that are at least 700 years old. There wasn't a sign saying that it was official Gryphony property, nor was there a sign saying that if they saw you trying to grab a tablet that you brought there with you to compare that they'd use it as an excuse to grab you up for thievery, drag you off to a prison far away and sit you down in solitary. Maybe it's just because I'm Daring Do, though. They probably were just using it as an excuse, now that I think about it." "Woah," said Mrs. Pasternson, listening to Daring's rather passionate rant, "So wait, you two are fugitives?" "Well, you might say that," Daring said, "but I was hoping that you could help us. May we stay here for the evening? They confiscated my currency, but I'll see to it you receive full payment." "Daring, Daring," the mare said, clapping a hoof onto her shoulder, "Don't sweat it. The way I see it, I owe you one. After all, what's a few bits next to being alive today? Yeah, don't worry about paying me back. If anything, I need to pay YOU back. Anything else I can do?" "Shucks," Daring blushed, "Well, if anyone asks, we're not here." "Oh, so it's like that," noted the mare, "OK, why don't I give you two a little tour of our little inn here? **** "This is one of our rooms, feel free to put your stuff in the cabinet if you wish," said Mrs. Pasternson. Both Daring and Scootaround looked into the small room, which was a quaint bedroom with a wooden desk, a bed that was large enough for a gryphon, and an oil lamp sitting on a shelf. The floor had a woven mat that was made from several colors and had a criss-cross design on it that was aesthetically pleasing. "Thank you very much Grace, I do appreciate the hospitality," Daring said, "We don't have anything to put here, so I guess we'll just follow your lead and continue." The mare nodded, and Daring and Scootaround followed her down the hallway. Small electric light bulbs illuminated the hallway with a dim light, and they could see that there were several other rooms just like the bedroom they had just been shown. One of the rooms, which Mrs. Pasternson told them was the bedroom used by herself and her husband, was locked. Around the other side of the home was a kitchen, which despite being built as a house designed for Gryphonkind felt cramped to Daring. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she hadn't used her kitchen in several years. She was a busy pony, and she couldn't be bothered with cooking for herself, or even for Scootaround. Instead, she usually picked up breakfast for the pair of them on the go, and usually grabbed something quick to eat on the way home from the museum. Occasionally the pair of them went to the restaurants in town, though that usually was accompanied with a meeting with some professional friends of Daring. Camp life, was much different, of course. What skills Daring lacked on a stovetop and griddle she made up for with her knowledge of camp cooking. Though using primitives stoves (and sometimes just the fire and a skillet) she was able to assist the party's assigned cook. Given the frequency of the major expeditions she was on (and sometimes led) she had gained a little bit of campfire cooking prowess. In her own home the shelves, cabinets and stove tops were better used as storage for the extra junk that always ended up coming home with her, or that the museum didn't want for their archives or on display. "Well, that's about it," Grace Pasternson finished, showing them back into the living room. The scruffy Gryphon in the corner had woken up by now, and was peering at them out of the corner of his eye. Daring stepped into the room, and was about to greet him when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye, sitting on a bookshelf against the wall. "Grace, who're these folks?" asked the Gryphon in a gruff voice. Daring wasn't paying attention to the conversation now, but was busy looking at the object. It looked like a pendant of some kind, with a thin gold chain meant to be worn about the neck. The pendant itself was circular, though it had raised edges around the circumference that had odd patterns on it. The surface had etchings on it, a writing style that Daring did not recognize. The center was a bright emerald gemstone, though it appeared to have accumulated a layer of dust from sitting on top of a stack of books for who knew how long. "These are some friends dear," the mare answered, swooping in to give her husband a peck on the beak, "This is the one I've told you about before, Daring Do." "Oh, so you're that one. How's it going?" the Gryphon asked, and stuck a clawed hand out in a friendly gesture, shaking Daring's hoof. "I've been better," Daring said, "Scootaround her and I have been running all night, as you can imagine we're exhausted." "What were you running for? Not much of a fan for this imperial bullshit either, huh?" said the Gryphon, not caring about his language at this hour of the night, despite his wife's glare. "Well no, I can't say that I am, Mister...." "Gregory." "Yes, well, Mr. Gregory, I was actually taken captive for trespassing. They threw me in one of their jails, and-" "You got sent to the detention center?" he asked, eyes widening, "You're a fugitive, huh?" "Yeah, first thing tomorrow I plan on getting out of this country," Daring said, "Grace, I was actually wondering about that pendant on your book-" A loud thumping sound uninterrupted her sentence. "This is the secret police, open up immediately!" a harsh voice stammered from outside the front door. Gregory's eyes widened, and Grace turned towards the two other ponies sitting in her living room. Under the stove. Now, she mouthed. Daring and Scootaround lost no time in scrambling back to the kitchen. "What are we gonna do, Dr. Do?" whispered Scootaround. Daring paused, her heart throbbing with every single beat. She could hear the door opening in the other room, and hear several voices as the secret police filed into the living room. "Oh, so there's an escapee out and about, huh?" said Gregory, in a jovial voice, "We don't have any customers sleeping here tonight, so Grace and I have been puttering around, trying to make sure everything was tidied up. I'm afraid we didn't catch the announcement on the radio if there was one." "Move the stove aside," Daring said in a quiet voice, "They're going to search the place." Together, she and the filly pushed on one side of the metal stove, and pushed it aside. Underneath, the wooden planks had been sawed off, and there was a space underneath where somepony small could fit. "After you," Scootaround said, placing a hoof to her side in a mockingly polite manner. Daring glared at her, trying to get the point across that now was not the time to be joking around. She got into the hole, wedging herself down into the very bottom of the crevice until she could push herself no further down. It was then Scootaround's turn to hide herself, trying not to step on Daring's face. It was cramped, though. Scootaround twisted to her side, but her tail kept brushing into Daring's face in a way she found very annoying. Above them, Grace slid the stove back into its proper place. The dim lighting was cut off completely, plunging both Daring and Scootaround into complete darkness. The two waited as the search of the home continued above them, hoping and praying that the secret police wouldn't look for them in their search. **** "So have you two had a long day?" asked Grace politely, walking over towards the bedrooms as the officers searched. The pair of them were dressed in plain clothes, including leather trench coats and black pinch-front fedoras. Neither answered the question but rather gave Mrs. Pasternson the cold shoulder, neither answering her nor acknowledging her presence. Undoubtedly they did not approve of the thought of a pony being married to a gryphon, thought Daring. The voices were fading now, as the group entered one of the bedrooms. Perhaps they were simply not saying anything at all. "Please, allow us to work in solitude," one of them asked, and both Greg and Grace returned to the kitchen. Grace peeked her head underneath the stove, and Scootaround gave her a weak smile, the best she could manage in the uncomfortably cramped hiding spot. "Why don't you start a kettle, honey?" came Greg's voice, and the sound of a small metal pot being filled with water could be heard. Something in the stove hummed to life, and the kettle was placed on one of the burners. The underside didn't get very hot, but the sound of sizzling water droplets could be heard from their hiding spot. This setting did not change, and Daring waited with baited breath as the officers slowly scouted out each individual room one by one. She was silently thankful that she had not sat on the bed or placed her wet clothes anywhere, for that would have given them away. "There is water on the floor," one of the officers remarked. All of the ponies in the kitchen plus Gregory held their breath for a moment, wondering what would come next. "Sorry about dripping on your floors, Mr. and Mrs. Gregory Pasternson," said the other officer, still from the other room. One could almost hear the relief of four different beings as they let out a short breath. "Can I interest either of you in anything to drink?" asked Grace, "I've put some water on, and it's nearly warm enough for a tea or maybe some coffee." "We are fine, thank you," the first officer answered curtly, as both of them entered the kitchen. The tension in the room escalated, as both Gregory and Grace kept their calm and cheerful "loyal citizen" face on, and Daring and Scootaround froze still beneath the stove, not moving an inch nor making any kind of audible sounds. Daring was suddenly aware of how much noise she thought her heart beat made. But that had to be a trick, right? It must have been all up in her head. "There's something under your stove," one of the officers said. Daring felt her heart skip a beat, and her mind began racing. They knew she and Scootaround were there. Any moment now they were going to move aside the stove and find them there. And then what? She and Scootaround would both be thrown in prison, and there wouldn't be much chance of escape. They'd have to wait for some kind of diplomatic action from Equestria, and who knew how long that would take? Not only that, but Gregory and Grace would be thrown in with them, for having harbored enemies of the state! She had endangered her friend and her friend's family by showing up! A claw reached under the stove, and Scootaround's eyes bugged out. She clenched her teeth, and sweat droplets rolled off from her face. The claw probed around beneath the stove, mere inches from her snout until it had found what it was looking for. "You ought to be more careful with your wooden spoons," the officer said, taking the utensil out from under the stove and handing it over to Mrs. Pasternson. She took it in both hooves, and smiled weakly. "No need to be embarrassed, it'll be clean with a bit of scrubbing." "Thank you, I've been wondering where I lost that spoon for a few days now," Grace said, in a friendly tone. Then the sound of floorboards creaking under the weight of the Gryphon's back paws left the kitchen, and it seemed that the officers were looking over the living room once before getting ready to leave the house. Daring Do let out another sigh of relief, clutching a hoof to her chest. Scootaround remained completely frozen until she heard the sound of the door shutting, and then let out her breath all at once. "Whew, that was too close," she said. "I can agree with you there," Daring said, as she heard Grace and Gregory moving the stove aside so that they could climb out. Scootaround swung her back hooves up and out easily, but Daring needed a bit of help extricating herself from her position wedged inside the bottom of the hole. "How close did they get?" Grace asked Scootaround. "Any closer," started the filly, "and they would have been picking my nose." **** "So Grace," Daring said, "I couldn't help but notice that pendant on your bookshelf." They were all back inside the living room by now, and had unwound a little bit from the tension of just a few minutes before. Admittedly Daring still felt a little uneasy, but perhaps it was just from her mind settling down and slowly stopping its furious worrying cycle that it had been doing ever since the agents had entered the house. Scootaround seemed to have relaxed completely though, for she had curled upon the ground near the warm hearth. She appeared to be sleeping. "Yes, isn't it lovely? Greg actually got that for me as a gift a year or so back," said Grace, picking the pendant up and blowing the dust off from it. Daring could more clearly see the emerald embedded in the center of it. She looked at it curiously, as if she recognized it. But then, what was it? She thought she had seen it in a book at some point, perhaps a long time ago. Whatever it was, she couldn't place it right now. "Where did you get it?" Daring asked, picking it up and peering at it closely. "Well, I went and picked it up from a vendor who was selling antique jewelry. I thought it was very nice, and it was eye catching for sure," answered Greg. He had a little bit of apprehension in his voice, as if he had his doubts about the item's origin, and Daring rolled her eyes to herself. It probably didn't make a bit of difference whether or not it had been stolen. If she was right, this pendant had to be about... "You seem very interested in it," Grace said, taking a sip of some tea, "Do you think it's something important?" "I'd say so," answered Daring, "Though I'd have to check my research notes to be sure. The writing here on the sides- right there, see? Those look like a manuscript that hasn't been used for hundreds of years, from a dead language. I’m not even familiar with it." "Oh wow, so you mean that this hunk of jewelry is-" "Yeah, it's an artifact of some kind," Daring guessed, "If I had to place it, I'd say somewhere around where modern day Saddle Arabia is." "Wow," chorused Greg and Grace in unison. "So do you want to take it with you?" asked Grace, and in the corner Gregory made a funny noise and shifted in his seat. "Well, I suppose... it wouldn't be a problem, would it?" Daring said, looking warily at Greg. He seemed not to be a big fan of the idea of Daring taking the pendant with her, and Daring didn't want to make either of them upset after all they had done for her that evening. "Well, I..." started Grace, trailing off after she saw Gregory's faces. The three of them that were still awake sat in silence for a moment, not wanting to say something that might upset Gregory. "I really cannot believe this," he finally said, standing up. Daring took a step back, sensing the tone in his voice to mean that he was very upset about something. Gregory walked over to the other side of the room angrily, right past Daring and Grace. He made gestures at the ground, and even stomped his back paws in frustration. Daring turned her head to see what he was making a fuss about. "Oh that's right, let me just tromp right on in to your house," he mumbled, grabbing a rag and placing it on the floor. It soaked up some moisture from a puddle on the floor, and was darkened with dirt that had been tracked in. "That's right, let me just walk over to THEIR homes, and track dirt inside. Yeah, we'll see how they like it then, the overpaid pricks." "It's okay dear, I'll get the mop," Grace said, rushing into the other room. She passed by Daring, mouthing the word "later". Now was not the time to talk about the item, it seemed. Daring contented herself to sit down near the hearth, next to Scootaround. "Hey kid, you awake?" she asked, prodding the filly. She heard only a grumble, and then Scootaround continued to breath rhythmically. She was asleep alright. "Alright, let's get you to bed," Daring said, yawning. She scooped the filly up in both hooves, and then staggered over to the bedroom on just her back hooves. She grunted, and placed the sleeping foal down on the bed, moving the covers up and over her body. "I think it's about time we all got some rest," Daring said to herself as she walked back out into the living room. She'd go to bed herself in just a few minutes. Of course, she still had catching up to do with her friend she hadn't seen in years. The stress from the entire day was catching up to her fast. A wave of exhaustion seemed to roll over her, and she felt incredibly fatigued. Collapsing onto one of the chairs, Daring's head flopped back, and her eyes closed. She was snoring within the next minute.