//------------------------------// // Kindred Spirits // Story: The Dresden Fillies: Extra Stuff // by psychicscubadiver //------------------------------// The Dresden Fillies: Kindred Spirits The autumn air was crisp, and the breeze that blew off Lake Michigan was cold. Mac was not bothered by the temperature. Not only was his tavern mostly underground, but the fire in his wood burning stove provided plenty of heat. The low light from the windows and irregularly spaced lamps revealed a room that was rough and homey, but meticulously clean. Everything was ready for a new day of business, so all Mac had to do now was wait for his usual clientele to arrive. A series of knocks, patient but powerful, sounded from nearby. Mac frowned. It was too early in the morning for any of his usual business, and besides, none of his customers knocked before entering. The knocks came again and Mac realized they were coming from the service entrance. It was a delivery. The back door opened with a small squeal of the old hinges. Mac grunted; he needed to oil those. On the other side of the door was a red-coated pony hitched to a large wooden wagon. The draft pony looked like a Clydesdale, but built on a smaller scale. He was stocky, only about five feet tall, but heavily lined with muscle. Most people would have been surprised, if not by the presence of an actual horse-drawn wagon or the appearance of the pony pulling it, then certainly by the absence of any driver. Mac just nodded and asked, “Cider?” “Eeyup,” Big Mac replied, shrugging off the yoke set on his considerable shoulders. Mac ran his hands over one of the large casks on the back on the wagon. There were two full of non-alcoholic cider, four of hard cider, and a pony keg – Mac gave a mild snort at that thought – of applejack. He gave a grunt in appreciation and moved aside so they could start unloading. The work went quickly, both of them long used to such labor, and soon the casks of cider were squared away. Mac shouldered the apple brandy and carried it back to his aging room. He’d wait a bit longer before bottling it. On the way back, he stopped in his office to grab a few items. He re-emerged to find Big Mac stoking the fire in his stove. The jingle of coins caught the pony’s attention, and he turned to face Mac. The small bag was full of gold coins − a necessary part of business when not all of your suppliers used American currency – and Mac tossed it underhand into a waiting hoof. Big Mac considered the bag carefully, and judged it to be the proper weight. He raised an eyebrow at the other items the barkeep had brought with him: a pair of dark bottles and a tankard with an oversized handle. “On the house.” Mac promised before pouring one of the dark bottles into the tankard, careful to achieve just the right amount of head on the beer. Big Mac took the drink with a nod of thanks and Mac replied with a grunt. One sip of heavenly stout later, Big Mac nodded in approval. Mac opened his own bottle and took a seat next to him. They enjoyed their beers in a companionable silence as the noise of the city above drifted by them. Eventually both bottle and tankard were empty. “Good brew,” Big Mac said. Mac grunted with an air that clearly said ‘of course’, but he softened it with a slight smile of gratitude. Still, deliveries didn’t make themselves, so Big Mac ambled back to the waiting wagon. Mac followed and watched as the pony shrugged back into his yoke. “Next year?” Mac asked. “Eeyup,” Big Mac replied. The barkeep waved as the workhorse plodded off. Then, he turned and went back inside to get some oil for those squeaky hinges. It was almost an hour later that his first customer appeared. The tall wizard sauntered his way over to the bar while his guardian waited closer to the door. The massive dog sniffed the air, then gave a chuffing, almost amused, bark before settling down. “Hey Mac,” Dresden said, visibly relaxing as he sat down at the bar. “How’s my favorite chatterbox?” Mac just grunted and started making a steak sandwich. The wizard always ordered one for himself, often sharing it with his dog. Dresden glanced up at the chalkboard behind the bar, just noticing the large message Mac had scrawled on it. “Fresh cider? I was going to order a beer, but that sounds tempting. What do you think; is it worth missing out on one of your excellent ales?” Mac smiled. “Eeyup.” ……… Big Mac stepped out of the Way onto the fresh green grass of Sweet Apple Acres. He paused for a moment to wipe the ichor stains and flecks of exoskeleton off his hooves. A few minutes of trotting brought him within view of the main barn and the orange pony repairing the old plow. “There you are, Big Mac,” Applejack said, giving a small sigh in relief. “I’ve been lookin’ fer you all day.” She glanced behind him at the empty wagon. “I shoulda known you were just makin’ some deliveries. Still, it’d make me feel better if you’d tell me when you’re goin’ somewhere. So who’d you visit? Was it anypony I know?” Big Mac thought for a moment. “Nope,” he replied.