//------------------------------// // Preparations and Paliptations // Story: The Sour Grapes Chronicles // by The Incredible Werekitty //------------------------------// The time seemed to pass with the slowness of molasses in mid-winter. Sour Grapes did not want to keep thinking about her decision to not follow through with her infatuation, but that was the thing about equinal labor. It did not engage the mind, and left plenty of time to think. There could not have been another pony who was grateful for the time to get close to noon. Cooking took thought, and she was going to make the Riders a hearty lunch. Now just what to fix? There were some dried goods in the pantry, easy to prepare and good to bulk out stews, soups and other basic meals. With the chill in the air, a good hearty stew would be just the thing. Potatoes, carrots, legumes, and assorted other vegetables soon were put into the basket to be taken into the kitchen and turned into something tasty. Sour Grapes would have to make sure to puree anything she made for Twilight’s sake, though. So a basic stew of veggies and grains would be hearty, and filling. Grapes set that to simmering, pulling out the much-used blender, and a smaller pan to whip up Twilight’s serving. Spike wandered into the kitchen, sucking on what looked like a ruby. He peered up over the counter to watch Grapes as she began to bring the water to a boil. “So what’s on the lunch menu today? Whatever it is we’re gonna have to make a lot, your employees are back and... they kinda look like how one of Pinkie Pie’s Piñatas feel.” “I saw them when they came in, Spike. I’m fixing a nice stew for their lunch. Should be hearty, nutritious, and filling. Just the thing to help get back their energy after an exhausting couple of days,” replied Grapes, as she started adding seasoning in a very holistic manner. “OK. You need me to do anything? Set up the table? Fetch stuff from the root cellar? Get the breakfast-in-bed serving set ready for Twilight’s portion?” “You can set the table, and get the tray ready to take up to Twilight. I've already gotten the ingredients I need, though. Thanks, Spike,” Grapes said rubbing his head. “You've been a fantastic help.” “Hey, that’s what I’m here for... at least until I’m forty feet tall and out on my own.” The little dragon set about grabbing dishes and napkins and other paraphernalia before heading out to the dining table. “Forty feet tall?” Grapes asked, sounding confused, then shrugged,and continued with her stew-making.” She busied herself at the stove for a while, adding what seemed right and stirring occasionally. The contents of the pot smelt like it was coming along. Dried ingredients plumping up nicely while fresh ones were beginning to soften. She didn't even notice the presence behind her until Firestormer’s nose came around from the left inhaling the soup’s aroma deeply. “YAIE!” Grapes yelped, leaping rather impressively for an earth-bound mare. “HOW in the hoary horseradished hay did you become so soft-hooved?!” “Doing time training with ground-pounders. Ponies who fight wildfires and forest fires, up close and on the ground,” he said matter-of-factly. “They gotta wear some seriously heavy footwear so they can walk on ground hot enough to burn your hooves up to your ankles. They make all the rookies practice marching, walking and running in them for hours at a time. When you take them off... well you realise you feel a LOT lighter.” “And much to your disappointment, you’ve got four left hooves, right?” Grapes quipped, offering Firestormer a taste of stew. “Surprisingly enough... no. Turns out I got used to it pretty quickly and well, it kinda helped me become more sure of my footing. Never learned to dance or anything but I have what some of the Lumberjack ponies call ‘Logdriver’s hooves’ and asked me if I wanted to try being a lumberjack next,” Firestormer paused for a moment. ”I had other plans though.” He accepted the taste and smiled. “Really nice. You got any white pepper? That might pep this up a little without being too strong.” “I do, actually. It’s a leftover from when Mom did the cooking. I always wondered why she had multiple hues of pepper, but she did tend to get fancy on holiday meals,” Grapes observed, as she fetched the pepper from the cabinet. “Mom was from Canterlot, originally.” “Really? I didn't know that. Then again I don’t think I ever spoke to your mom directly. She looked like a really nice mare.” “She is one of the better cooks. She taught me a lot about cooking, too,” Grapes said with a smile. “The different hues of pepper add a different taste. She’s even got green and pink peppercorns. And, of course, you have some tabasco pepper sauce on the table to turn this perfectly innocent stew into your usual moulton dish.” “I like my food with a little spice but I find that it has to be the right amount. Enough to let your taste buds know they’re alive... but never so much that you can’t taste the hard work of a chef who toiled to make something tasty in it’s own right.” “Yeah. That’s the problem that you have with some ponies who try their hoof at New Hayleans cuisine. They spice it to ‘surface of the sun’ levels. You want some, as my Aunt Muscadine says ‘zang’ to it, but you don’t want to burn off your taste buds,” Grapes said, as she sampled the soup, and added a magical pinch more of the pepper.” He moved away to give her some space, and sat down at the kitchen table. He watched a while then sighed. “No fatalities.” he said rather out of the blue, the words short but speaking volumes. “Good to know,” Grapes murmured, as she pulled out a baguette, and sliced it thinly. “Any serious injuries?” “A few. None on the team, thank goodness for small miracles. Among the populace there were blessed few to call ‘serious’ but it’s never easy trying to explain that to some little filly who’s sifting through the ashes that was once her bedroom to see if anything survived. The worst injuries happened because of some...” the orange pony hesitated a moment, head twisting in a painfully looking manner to the left as he grimaced in a way that suggested he was fighting back some choice cuss words. “...nnngh... there are just some ponies in the world that really should have been locked away to save the rest of us from their stupidity.” “Anypony we know? Or just some idiotic feather-jockey with more guts than brains showing off, hoping to get into the Wonderfarts?” Grapes asked casually, then smirked. “And you’re off duty, Firestormer. If you were on-the-job, you’d get a reprimand, but off duty, you can call a clod-brained cloud jockey a clod-brained cloud jockey, and not get into trouble.” “Thanks... I mean it. It’s just... they should have KNOWN better. I mean this was a total no brainer and yet there they were. Straight from a celebrity visit to a local foal’s hospital, two streaks of blue and yellow surging up into a sky filled with ash, soot and Celestia knows what else! I at least know the risks and made certain that me and the others were ready for them but those... WONDERBOLTS! URGH!” he bonked his head against the table and gave a large moan. “No preparation, no planning, NO common sense. It was as if they wanted to die... and they nearly did. They probably thought they could treat ashfall like a snowstorm. It’s like I’ve told the others. Feathers get clogged. Ash and soot will get into your eyes and blind you or into your lungs along with all kinds of volcanic fumes... It’s not a nice way to go. Never just rush in blindly. Wear goggles and a filter. Only take short flights and take short breaks often to give yourself a chance to shake the ash out of your wings. Last thing you want is to choke or get too bogged down to fly when you’re in no position to do anything about it.” “So a pair of Underdolts came and tried to steal the glory in a place where there was no glory to be had,” Grapes mused, spooning out some of the stew into the pan, then poured the pan’s contents into the blender to liquefy the stew. Firestormer chuckled and nodded. “There’s no room for ego during an emergency like that. They were oh-so-very lucky they weren’t killed. As it is the Light blue mare with the white mane needs to get her wing worked back into it’s socket... too much ash between the feathers to keep her from having anything BUT a crash landing. On the other hoof, the cobalt-colored one with the smart mouth, will be in an oxygen tent for a while. Turns out he’s not so witty when his lungs are clogged.” “I don’t keep up with the Wonderbolts, to be honest. I have enough trouble with the mares on the weather team. They seem to find you and your cohorts quite fascinating,” Grapes said, as she poured the liquefied stew into the saucepan, and reheated it. “Wait... what?” He blinked and stared at her a moment. “Run that one past me again. The mares on the weather team?” “You mean you haven’t noticed them taking their ‘breaks’ on my fence when I wasn’t supposed to be looking, or ‘discretely’ moving clouds around the vineyard?” Grapes teased with an impish grin. “You must be losing your touch, Firestormer.” “Touch? What touch? Oh... OH! Uh... yeah. Must be losing my touch, not... noticing all those mares. Yeah. Maybe I’ve been just working too hard to be my usual uh... Love-em-and-leave-em kind of guy. “ Firestormer paused a moment with a smile as phoney as a three bit pearl necklace. “Sooooo... how many on average?” “Sorry, Casanova, I never keep a count,” Grapes uttered with a smirk, as she tested the temperature of the soup. She poured it into glass, added the requisite straw, poured some juice to go with it. “Hey, Spike? I got Twilight’s lunch ready. Would you carry it up to her, please?” “Sure thing.” “Hey little guy. Didn't see you there,” Firestormer greeted Spike as he came in. “Oh hey Firestormer. Yeah just got back from setting up,” the little purple and green dragon said as he took the tray of pureed goodness into his claws and headed up the stairs to where Twilight was staying. “Nice guy... Glad to see crankiness doesn't automatically come with the fireproof scales and 3rd degree morning breath.” “You know another young dragon?” Grapes asked, sounding very curious. “Well. Yeah. Smudge is the guy who sends us our summons. Teleportation fire is very useful to have when it positively, absolutely has to be there ten minutes ago.” he smirked. “Mom and Pop are in negotiation with some dragons to see if any were interested in doing it as a hobby. Smudge on the other hand... well... he’s kinda doing ‘Community Service’.” “How does a dragon get a community service sentence? He do something naughty?” Grapes queried. “Well... neither Lady Weathervane or Smudge will say much on the subject, but apparently it’s summed up, to the effect of ‘Do not anger the solar monarch, unless you wish to pay the price.’ I believe them.” “Hmmm... makes sense to me,” Grapes observed, as she levitated the soup out into the dining room. “Well better let everypony know soup’s on. So. Feel better for having the chance to rant about the Blunderbolts?” He eyed her and began to giggle. “Yeah... I’m still frustrated at their actions but, at least now I feel better that not everypony worships the air out of their buttocks.” “I’m not a pegasus, hon. If they did more than just flying shows, and water transfer supervision, then yeah, I’d think more of them. But all they are is a bunch of stunt jockeys that turn normally sensible pegasi into giddy fanponies. They’re impractical, egotistical, and do nothing but take young pegasi away from the more needed job paths,” Grapes groused. “Well they also get a lot of worship from the other ponies. They have their share of Unicorn and Earth Pony groupies. Meanwhile me and the guys work our wings off and still are next to unknowns... where’s OUR love?” “Usually out on the edge of the property watching you from the fenceline. Is that good enough for you?” Grapes quipped from the dining room. “Now go and tell the others that lunch is served.” “Yes Ma’am!” Firestormer said saluting her sharply “And... thanks.” “You’re welcome, fly boy,” Grapes smirked. -----------~ooo~------------ Lunch went very well, Grapes could see how a good rest and a hearty meal did wonders for her crew. The early-morning weariness she had witnessed now peeling away to show the old Storm-Riders she knew... even if their colors were somewhat less vibrant. All the ash and soot had a way of doing that for the next few washes, Once they had been rejuvenated enough she sprung the news on them that what she jokingly called “The Mane Six” would be spending Nightmare Night on their property. Reactions were a little mixed but the most surprising came from Earshot. “What’s Nightmare Night?” “Oh... boy... this is going to take some explanation. For most ponies, Nightmare Night is a holiday that is used to poke fun at all things scary,” Grapes explained, obviously thinking through how to spring the news of the... less salient bits of Nightmare Night on the poor Night Pony. “It didn’t start out that way, but... well... it gets its name from Princess Luna’s stint of being... somewhat less than sane. In other words, Nightmare Night is named for Nightmare Moon. It’s changed a bit, but nowadays, it’s a festival about scary things, i.e., the stuff of ‘nightmares’. It’s a way to make them a bit less scary. The foals go ‘round town, knocking on doors, and receiving candy. Though there’s tact permission to play a small harmless prank on anypony who doesn’t cough up the goods. The adults have the big Nightmare Night party in the town square, with games, and food.” “So foals go begging for candy, and the grown-ups just GIVE it to them?” “It’s not ‘begging’. They don’t go from door to door asking for candy. It’s... kind of a bribe to keep the pranks from being played. I played some good ones on the more stingy mares in town, too. You say: ‘Nightmare Night, what a fright. Give me something good to bite’, and you’ve gotta be in costume. That’s important too. Everybody wears costumes on Nightmare Night. Originally it was from an old legend that Nightmare Moon could send down her ghost to come and snatch away foals, unless they were in costume. Later even the grownups got involved, and some seem to want to outdo each other in how creative their costumes are. I think the whole candy offering thing came about after the whole candy or prank thing came into play. True it may have been taken from an old appeasement ritual, but the idea must have seemed divinely sent to parents. It was a way to get the foals to NOT be eating candy till their teeth rotted, after Nightmare Night,” Grapes explained, having to laugh at herself. In all honesty, she should have started with the candy, first, from the looks of it. If there was any doubt that Earshot was just like any other ten-year-old foal, then this would have laid them to rest. “But we still would get to keep some candy for ourselves... right?” Earshot asked, causing Grapes to smile a bit. “Of course! If we weren’t, the whole holiday would come to a screeching halt! It’s supposed to be enjoyed by everypony, the one night of the year, where foals get to stay up late, and gnosh candy. Not give it all away to a statue,” Grapes declared excitedly. “So why haven’t I been introduced to this before? Usually around this time of year I get told to go to bed early and they let me play my opera records at full volume next to me.” The Storm-Riders looked guilty as they toed the ground uncomfortably. “Well lad... you see the truth is... We really didn’t know how to explain Nightmare Night to you without risking hurtin’ yer feelings.” “Mainly, if I have my guesses right, because your people revere Princess Luna, and still feel guilty about not knowing if your ancestors made a pact with Nightmare Moon, or not,” Grapes said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “They didn’t want you to be saddened by Princess Luna’s alter ego being remembered, while Princess Luna, herself, was not. But then, this was probably before her being cured by the Elements of Harmony. No telling what Princess Luna is going to think of the holiday, now that she’s back.” “I think she might like getting candy. Who doesn't like candy?” “Dentists?” Grapes quipped. “I’d think Dentists would LOVE candy. It brings in more business.” “Kid’s got a point.” Stormfront said with a smile. “Look... maybe we were being overprotective of you in not introducing you to Nightmare Night before. You're level-headed enough to accept that it’s all in good fun... and you certainly haven’t gotten upset over finding out how the world perceives Night Ponies. Maybe... this will be a good experience for you. Also it’ll give you something to write home about.” “You can’t keep a foal in protective wrappings forever,” Grapes said quietly. “Even if that foal’s tough as nails, and faced horrors, there are still going to be things you can’t protect him from. Sometimes he’s just going to have to get his knees skint, and then learn to pick himself up. Mares and Stallions may be forgiving, but other foals... now that’s going to be tough. So. You looking forward to starting School, after Nightmare Night, Earshot?” “Well, yeah! Shouldn't I?” “It’s going to be very different. I’ll have to see what Rarity has for you to wear to meet Cheerilee, but... Well, like I said, other foals can be incredibly cruel,” Grapes advised with a smile. “You’re going to be different, and a lot of foals don’t like the one who’s different. You may be teased, and taunted, and even bullied. But don’t let them get you down, Earshot. They’re trying to make you feel small, because they don’t want to learn or even give somepony a chance..” “Or they ARE small, and the only way they can feel big is to make YOU feel small.” Queenie said, hugging Earshot. “There are far more of those kinds of ponies than should exist.” “I agree wholeheartedly, Queenie,” Grapes said, with a sad frown on her face. “So... going back to the candy...” “YES yes yes... Candy abounds on Nightmare Night, and we’ll have somepony take you out treat-or-tricking.” The blond pegasus laughed hugging him a little tighter before releasing him. “But you'll have to find a costume first.” “Miss Grapes? Where can I get a costume?” “This time of year? Most of the stores sell them or at the very least accessories, like Pinkie’s favorite party supply store. I’m afraid that Rarity’s out-of-commission, so she can’t make you one, this year,” Grapes answered. “Ok. I’m sure I can find a nice costume in time for the party.” “Actually...” Firestormer said quietly “Would you mind if I did some party tricks to liven things up a little? You know. Put on a show?” “Not at all, Firestormer. I’m sure everypony would enjoy whatever tricks you do,” Grapes said with a smile. “Actually, Lass... the lad’s not alone in his desire to pitch in for the party. I had me a thought about turning some of yer frames into a haunted maze fer the foals. Just take some canvas and a few odds and ends.” Grapes blinked in surprize, them grinned. “All right, anypony who has any ideas to liven up the Nightmare Night party for the foals has carte blanche to put those ideas in motion, as long as said ideas can be disassembled, easily, within the next few days,” Grapes declared. “How’s that?” -----------~ooo~------------ And when all was said and done, the Storm-Riders needed a distraction from their last job. It had been long, hard, somewhat brutal, and very sad in some instances. They had saved lives, not property, but property can be replaced. Now, however, they needed to recuperate, and maybe even have a little fun. The bunkhouse was so close to being done that one could almost stick a fork into it. And all the little projects to make the vineyard an enjoyable Nightmare Night attraction was also coming along nicely. A maze was constructed, snacks were made, with Stormy being kept well away from any baking. And lastly, Twilight Sparkle was finally able to eat semi-solids, and walk around a bit. Grapes was surprised when she caught Firestormer, freshly returned from town, placing bottles of what she recognised as the cheapest, nastiest alcohol available onto the yard dining table. There were other things in the grocery bags but she took some ‘professional’ offence to the presence of such blatant ‘booze’ on her property. “You know, you could have gotten something much more... palatable with your employee’s discount, Firestormer,” Grapes observed, eyeing the hootch in disdain. “Uh? Oh hey, Grapes. You mean this stuff? Sorry about that but for what I got planned, I need something good and strong. Way over the 40 proof mark.” “I do have some stronger drinks, Firestormer. Not sure why you want something so strong, but...” “Look I know you take great pride in your product, and yes you have some strong stuff but... okay. I was gonna surprise you tonight but... you forced my hoof. Time for a demonstration.” The orange pegasus jerked the cork from a bottle labeled “Faust’s Bane” with his teeth and spit it to the side. he then winked at her before tilting his head back and taking a deep draught but surprisingly enough, not swallowing it. His cheeks bulged like a frog’s before he put the bottle back down. What happened next was a genuine shock. He turned his head away from the house and a great blue gout of flame filled the air. It was astounding, and he did it again, and then a third time. Each time the brief burst of flame, akin to a dragon’s breath. He wiped his mouth on the ‘sleeve’ of his leg before smiling at Grapes. “A fire breathing trick. Nice! I haven’t seen one in years,” Grapes said with a grin, then smirked. “You still could have used my strong stuff for that, though... Probably wouldn’t leave as bad a taste in your mouth as this stuff. I don’t mind my ‘art’ being used to create somebody else’s. Not sure how you did the actual fire-breath, but I bet you had some rainbow water in your mouth too... Or this rotgut is made with rainbow water... Either way, I suspect rainbow water in the color change.” “You have a good mind for thinking this stuff out. So yeah. A little Rainbow water goes a long way. Picked some up from the local Weather Pony outlet and was trying to decide what color would go best for my show. I’m afraid that I can’t show you how I ignited the stuff, it’s a trade secret but... somepony as sharp as you’ll probably work it out by morning. As for using YOUR product... well... I never thought of it. Guess I had too much respect for your hard work to consider it. Shortly after getting my... obsession, a circus came to town and one of the sideshow performers was ‘The Infernal Hay-Burner’. Watching what she did with fire amazed me... I begged mom and dad to let me run away with the circus for a summer job. And so, I wound up understudying under Hay-Burner. It was my first taste, no pun intended, at learning how fire could be controlled instead of fought. She didn’t so much as play with fire but harness it to entertain others, and I learned enough about the trade to actually be asked to come back when I was older and maybe finish my training as a full performer.” “You’re definitely going to wow the audience with your act, Firestormer,” Grapes said with a grin. “Now let me find a bottle of good stuff you can use, and let’s see what happens.” “Well it certainly would be an improvement in flavor, that’s for sure. This stuff tastes like it must’ve been strained through the inside of an old saddle.” “What can I say? I care for the well-being of my friends... Hm... If we’re going to get Earshot started in school, he’s going to need to meet Cheerilee.” “Really? Um... so, does the schoolmarm KNOW Earshot is ‘different’?” “I don’t know, honestly,” Grapes said. “You remember the maroon filly with the pinkish mane? Rather unrelentingly cheerful?” “Yeah I remember seeing her around town. Has flowers on her keister? Would have thought her a florist instead of a teacher.” “Cheerilee has this rather... broad interpretation of her cutie mark, Firestormer,” Grapes said with a grin. “But she’s really rather good at being a teacher.” “Well if you say she’s ok then I won’t worry about Earshot too much. Um... can I make a suggestion? Maybe put him in some clothes before introducing him. Might help draw her focus to the similarities he has with other ponies.” he toed the dirt with his hoof and sighed. “The little guy needs all the help he can get for a smooth transition on here. First time at school can be rough on the unprepared.” “Don’t I know it. I’m planning on checking with Rarity. She may have something we can use,” Grapes said thoughtfully. “Also... he’s probably going to need a legal guardian to vouch for him, too.” “I... I would do it but... he’s been more of a little brother to me than a son, really. I think if this teacher is as good as you're implying she'd pick up on that pretty quickly.” “She more than likely would. She’s just that good, and tends to know when the rod or the carrot is needed,” Grapes observed. “Though some foals have protection from the aforementioned rod... Well I’m heading into town, to check up on Rarity, and see if she’s got something useful for short-notice. You and the others decide who’s going to be the go-to guardian of our favorite little Night Pony.” “We'll have that sorted out by the time you get back with him.” -----------~ooo~------------ Grapes had never seen Rarity so apologetic in her life. In her words, Earshot was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to do something different and she was in no condition to give him a proper outfit. She had never even considered the notion of making clothes for a Night Pony or how to make one look more... pony-ish. Still, she didn’t let Earshot “Suffer in the name of fashion.” and dredged her ‘Unclaimed clothing’ closet and discovered a gorgeous colt-sized White suit jacket and accompanying Black shirt with white tie. It was a little larger than Earshot’s frame but with a few cleverly applied pins he would wind up looking quite dashing in it. Apparently the outfit had been bought and paid for but never picked up, so literally Earshot was purchasing it off the rack. An event that, like the Carousel's owner, was definitely a rarity. Grapes thanked Rarity, as they left, feeling that Rarity had earned her bits, even if the outfit was off the rack, as it were. They trotted back to the Vineyard, Grapes eager to see how the Great Debate on who would be the designated guardian had turned out. It should be interesting, but Grapes was willing to volunteer, if they had not reached a decision. Half the time, honestly, it felt like Grapes was, already, the guardian of the whole blasted team. -----------~ooo~------------ The group was around the communal dining table in the yard, apparently just winding up the debate. They seemed to have debated their way through three pies and a bucket of chocolate chip cookies before she arrived. “Simple rule of a committee, lass. Never begin talks when yer hungry otherwise it could go downhill fast.” “Makes sense to me. I DID feed y’all, before I left, though, I thought,” Grapes said with a smirk. “Looks like all you did was... not save me any pie, OR cookies.” The subject of the debate had apparently been given the remains of a raisin pie and was far-too enthusiastically licking the plate clean. In moments the dish was scoured nearly spotless and the night pony smiled at Grapes from a somewhat less-than clean, purple-stained muzzle. “We got more, Miss Grapes,” said Sirocco as she opened a small crate at the foot of the table and pulled out a Lemon Meringue pie. “ I simply could not decide on one type of pie from Sugarcube Corner and so I asked them to send one of each flavor over.” “Aye... we got plenty to go about right now Miss. Glad she went at the end of the day instead of the start or we'd have more than ten,” Squall chuckled. “Oh.. Kay. Got your suit, Earshot,” Grapes said, lifting the article from her saddlebag. “Why don’t you go and hang it up, so it’ll be neat?” “Okie Dokie! Miss Rarity did a great job, didn’t she? It’s so beautiful, Miss Grapes.” he said, starting to reach for the pristine white material with his purple-stained hooves. “...on second thought, I’ll do it,” Grapes said heading into the bunkhouse. “You, young colt, need to wash your hooves.” “Huh? Ooh... OH! That could have been very bad,” Earshot chuckled looking at the goo on his hooves. “I’ll do that right away.” “Good lad,” Grapes said, then went on in to take care of putting up the suit. She heard the steady, dependable gait of Squall enter the bunkhouse behind her. By the time she had hung up the suit in Earshot’s surprisingly sparse closet, he had caught up with her. “Colts will be colts, eh lass?” “Yes,” Grapes chuckled. “And some days I feel like I've got three colts under the same roof.” “We all have our moments, but when I became a Stallion I put away all foalish things, Miss Grapes. And that includes the fear of foalishness and the desire to be grown-up.” “I hear you, Squall. I like the Daring Do series, and that’s written for foals, originally” Grapes observed. “But sometimes, you just have to stop, and try not to facehoof too hard, when they start acting like a trio of hooligans.” “Aye... but to be honest the fillies are just as bad at times.” he chuckled. “We’re not whining, we're complaining,” Grapes said with a grin. “And nice to know that I’m not the only well-read one on this vineyard. Feel free to browse the shelves, during the winter months, if you need reading material.” “Thank you miss. Me father always stressed me trying to be a well-rounded individual. It’s even in the family motto. Without getting into the old Equestrian, it’s Never stop living, never stop learning, never stop loving.” “I rather like that one.” “We’re rather partial to it ourselves. It’s one of the reasons we’re sailors. You go out, see places, meet new personalities and are continually trying out new things.” He looked at the white suit and black shirt hanging up and smiled. “Speaking of which, looks like the lad will be wearing his Sunday best when I take him to meet his new teacher.” “So you’re going to be acting guardian, hm?” Grapes asked, smiling at Squall. “Because of seniority? I’d have stepped in, if needed. Practically feel like I’m your team’s guardian, already.” “I think we’ve noticed that on some level. As homey as this all seems to us, to the Ponyvillians we’re still... outsiders I guess. You know, not really residents yet. In that respect you are... somewhat responsible for us. But don’t worry. I doubt we will do anything deliberate to reflect badly upon your family name.” “Good to know,” Grapes said with a smile. “I should probably get me good outfit cleaned before then. Wouldn't look right for him to look so sharp and me looking like I just got keelhauled.” “Miss Cheerilee wouldn't mind, but sometimes it’s best to put one’s best hoof forward,” Grapes said patting Squall’s shoulder. “No telling who else may be there.” “I can understand why the others think I should be his legal guardian. The lad does look to me for advice and whatnot, but still... It’s hard to see meself as the fatherly type. Not that I hate foals or anything like that, y’know.” “If you did, you wouldn’t get along with Earshot so well,” Grapes observed. “Do you think I’d make a good father? One day, I mean.” “I’d have to say yes. Yes you would make a good father, someday. Because you are able to work with a variety of different personalities, and abilities,” Grapes replied. “So you’re ready to deal with anything a foal can throw at you.” -------=======------- Grapes approached the Ponyville schoolhouse and only glanced at it briefly before averting her eyes. It wasn’t that it was a BAD schoolhouse. It had a fairly classic construction for a single-room schoolhouse including a little steeple in it for the schoolbell. It was the paint job that always got to her. Whomever was tasked with adding the french curves and hearts to it went above and beyond the call of duty... and good taste. To Sour Grapes it was just too over the top, and like Sugarcube Corner looked less like a building and more like a toy marketed towards young fillies. Taking a moment to wonder if she was the only one to see it that way she squared her shoulders and entered. Cheerilee was busy at her desk, no doubt marking tests. The purple mare looked up from her task and apparently glad for the interruption smiled. “Sour Grapes! What an unexpected surprise, what brings our local winemaker to my school? Did another foal try to buy me a bottle of something in lieu of the more contemporary apple again? I thought we already agreed that they should be gently turned in a less... alcoholic direction for a bribe.” Grapes chuckled, shaking her head. “No, Cheerilee, thankfully nopony’s tried to buy another bottle of wine from me. Well except Berry Punch, but that’s another story altogether.” “That’s good to hear. Then again a drink right now sounds almost welcome. I’m grading term papers, they may be short but some of them are simply... well Twilight asked me to introduce to the children that an unknown quantity is usually identified with the letter ‘X’. So in this question I asked them to find ‘X’. You wouldn’t BELIEVE how many just circled the letter and pointed to it with an arrow saying ‘Here it is.’ I worry for their sense of logic... but at least their sense of humor is sharp.” Grapes paused, blinking for a moment, and gave Cheerilee this look. “You mean to tell me that Twilight convinced you to start these kids on algebra?” Grapes asked, with a raised eyebrow. “Well not EVERYTHING about algebra. She said... ‘A concept here and there could help give them a leg up later.’ So that’s what I did. Nothing complex, after all the term ‘X Factor’ is bound to be overheard at some point, so at least they understand that X is another way of saying that there is an unknown quantity. I have three fillies who think that ‘The X-Mares’ a nicer term than ‘Blank Flank’... I’ll give them a week before they forget about it though.” “Well... actually I have another ‘X Factor’ that’s going to be introduced... I have this ten-year-old colt that’s very different, and I thought I’d stop by and warn you beforehand. You see, he’s what is called a Night Pony, and...” Now it was Cheerilee’s turn to give Sour Grapes that certain look. “Oh Grapes... Pull the other one, it has bells.” “I’m serious,” Grapes said. “Note serious face.” “Really? Come on, Sour Grapes. Do you have any idea how many foals each year I have to patiently explain that there is no Boogiemare, no Zombie Ponies and that there is not now nor ever was such a thing as Night Ponies?” “Well if you think about it, you’re telling the truth. There is no such thing as the literary Night Ponies. There is, however, a nocturnal species of pegasai that are called ‘Night Ponies’, but they do not steal children, or drink blood, are not immortal, and don’t go ‘poof’ in the sun,” Grapes explained. “They are a bit more omnivorous than your typical pony, though, so I wouldn’t recommend anypony trading lunches with Earshot, once he’s enrolled.” The Teacher stared at her visitor, the skeptical expression slowly crumbling away to reveal a shocked one beneath. “You... you ARE serious, aren’t you?” She got up from her desk and slowly walked over to look out the window facing Ponyville. “We actually have a Night Pony in Ponyville? I thought that was a silly rumor, like the time we thought that Celestia was coming to town and she was merely passing by.” “No, it’s not a rumor. Earshot’s a little different, but he’s a very nice colt. Just don’t ask him what he’s having for lunch,” Grapes quipped with a grin. “Any particular reason I shouldn’t?” she paused a moment then shook her head. “No wait... maybe I shouldn't ask you that.” “Good call,” Grapes said with a grin. “Seriously, though, Earshot’s something of an ambassador for his people. They went into hiding after the whole Nightmare Moon thing, so... They sent Earshot to gage pony’s reactions to someone different.” “Wait... you mean to tell me they were hiding because they thought all the other ponies would want to take some sort of revenge against them? That’s... actually a good example of forward planning. But to hide for a thousand years? That certainly would explain some of the stories we’ve been coming up with on our own. So... what’s he look like?” “A little colt with a gray coat, yellow slitted eyes, bat-like ears and bat-like wings, ” Grapes said simply. “Yellow slitted eyes? Like a cat’s? Bat ears and... bat wings. Yes... I can see how that would result in a LOT of stories.” “Oh yes,” Grapes said with a grin. “And fangs.” “Fangs?” “Just small ones. Really.” “Oh... kay...” the schoolteacher said cautiously. Her mind putting together a rather fearsome image, in spite of Sour Grapes’ best assurances. “He’s a ten-year-old colt, not some massive monstrosity of nightmarish proportions,” Grapes said soothingly. “Earshot is a kid.” “I’ll keep that in mind.” There was a gentle knock at the door and the two mares turned to see Summer Squall standing there. His shirt was clean and pressed and he was wearing a Dark Jacket that had four yellow stripes on the cuffs. It had never occurred to Grapes that Squall might actually have more rank than the standard sailor... and it was a Royal Equestrian Navy jacket as well. She made a mental note to ask him about it later. She did note that he had removed his hat and was holding it under one foreleg. That was rare, she couldn’t remember him taking his hat off for much more than mealtimes. He was on REALLY good behavior if he was showing this level of respect. “Ah, begging your pardon Miss Cheerilee, My name is Summer Squall and I am here to... hopefully enroll my young charge in your fine establishment here.” “Oh, um. Sour Grapes? Is this stallion the legal guardian of the colt you've been warn... I mean, telling me about?” “Yes, Cheerilee, he is,” Grapes said, then leaned close. “Careful with the paperwork, the ink may still be wet. His friends had been giving him a rather eccentric form of home schooling, until he expressed an interest in coming to school.” “Oh... well yes. Home Schooling isn’t that unusual but as long as he has basic literacy and mathematical skills I can work with that. Is the young... I mean did you bring Earshot with you?” “Aye Miss. He’s just out here on the front stoop. Come along lad. Smartly now.” “Uh... I’m caught on a nail and I don’t want to just...” “I’ll give you a hoof with that. Pardon me Miss. Just a wardrobe malfunction. Won’t be but a moment.” Squall turned and took half a step out the door to give Earshot a hoof, meanwhile Grapes became aware of the teacher taking very deep nervous breaths. If she didn’t know any better, Grapes could have sworn that... “So... all those years telling the foals that there’s no such thing as the nightmarish Night Ponies, it wasn’t the foals you were trying to convince, hm?” Grapes asked with a smirk. “A... a little. It’s silly I know it’s just...” She trailed off as Summer Squall entered with Earshot at his side. The colt was wearing the suit that Rarity had selected for him and here under the light of day and in the cheerful environment of the classroom all things dark and sinister had boiled away, leaving just Earshot behind. There was a moment of silence, then Squall placed a hoof on Earshot’s shoulder. “Go ahead lad. Introduce yourself.” “Hullo Miss Cheerilee. My name is Earshot and I would really like to learn more about Equestria and the world... that is... if it’s alright with you?” “Oh... my.. gosh... He’s so CUTE!” It was all Grapes could do to not collapse laughing. “Just look at him! The little suit and tie and shirt... and so polite. Is he always polite?” “Yes, actually,” Grapes casually. “Oh my gosh. A polite colt. That’s hard to find... and you’re not even remotely creepy! I - I didn’t mean to imply that you would be. It’s just...” “It’s ok Miss Cheerilee. I’ve read all of the Night Pony books. I know how we’re remembered... even if some of the stories had stuff I really didn’t understand. Are there really ponies who turn into giant wolves?” “No, they’re as made up as vamponies, Earshot,” Grapes replied. “I see I have my work cut out for me, don’t I?” Cheerilee observed. “Yes Miss Cheerilee?” Earshot replied, somewhat questioningly. “Oh he IS polite. I can’t really have you with the younger foals but I do have a class after they leave for older colts and fillies. They'll be more around your age... you are about ten, right?” “As best we can figure... living in a cavern can mess up your perception of passage of time. We just say ten... give or take.” “A cavern? Why...? No, I’m sure you’ll explain when I introduce you to the others. Now before this, is there any particular lessons you’d like me to try to work into the curriculum?” “Well I’d like to know everything!” “You and me both kid. But seriously... what sort of things do you know already?” Cheerilee asked, looking amused. “Not a lot. I mean the ponies I work with have taught me some neat stuff like, geography, cartography, fire safety, weather formation, I can read and write six languages outside of my own, arithmetic, cold weather survival, xenozoology, herbology, various theologies of Saddle Arabia, cooking...” “Stop, stop, stop... does he really know all of that?” Cheerilee asked, looking over at where Squall and Grapes now stood together. “Well now, he did have a firm grasp of his letters and numbers when he left his home. Since then he fell in with us at the Royal Equestrian Rogue Weather Bureau and well... in the lulls we’ve been teaching him whatever we had to share. The little fellow’s quite eager to learn whatever you throw at him,” Squall explained with a shrug. “He’s also learned grape cultivation, varieties of wine grapes, the difference between wine grapes and table grapes, and some basics of fermentation chemistry, along with the process of winemaking from the grape to the bottle, some basic farming techniques for melons and strawberries and the effects of hypersonics upon the rodent and lapine ear,” Grapes added. “Hypersonics? How...” Cheerilee took a moment to think about it. “Those ears are for more than keeping the top of your head from flying off, aren't they?” “I never thought of it like that but, yeah. I guess you could say that. Like all night ponies I can ‘see’ the world just with my voice... and I can hear really good too. Listening is my special talent,” Earshot chirped happily. “Oh my. That is a talent to be proud of. Okay, Earshot. My class for older foals begins the day after Nightmare Night. Will you be ready for it?” asked Cheerilee “YES! I mean.. um... yes.” “Oh so eager too! I’ll give your guardian a list of materials you will want to bring with you. Nothing fancy, just pens, notebooks, rulers.. the usual.” “Aye. I’m certain I have some of that laying about in me bunk.. I mean my room," Squall said, nodding. “And if not, I probably have some in my house,” Grapes said. “Any other equipment? Protractor, compass, abacus, stuff like that, needed?” Cheerilee began going through her desk and pulled out a small blue sheet of paper. “It should all be right here. It’s fairly standardised stuff, useful up until you realise that some ponies only think a compass is for carving their name in the desktops,” the maroon mare observed with a roll of her eyes. “I thought it was for drawing accurate curves, Miss Cheerilee.” “He IS a bright one. All right then. I guess I’ll be seeing you after Nightmare Night, Earshot. I hope we both enjoy this new experience.” “I will. Thank you miss Cheerilee.” Once Squall had lead Earshot from the schoolhouse, only then did Cheerilee look back at Grapes, and smiled. “And to think of the bits my parents spent sending me to foal psychiatrists to alleviate my fears. If I knew Night Ponies were so... pony-like I’d never have feared them in the first place.” “It’s been over a thousand years since they’ve been around, Cheerilee. I’m sure they’re all ponylike,” Grapes said with a smile. “It IS the victors that write history, after all, and if my research into that time period is correct, our dear departed ancestors may have been a bit vengeful toward any creature that would look like it would benefit from eternal night.” “Perhaps I should consider working something about preconceived notions into my curriculum,” Cheerilee said thoughtfully. “That sounds like a good idea. Ponies would benefit from learning that stereotypes are not a good thing,” Grapes said with a nod. “Especially from an early age.”