Spike by Treblemaker
He slipped the weight of his shoulder bag to the other side in an attempt to alleviate the strain. “Why do books have to weigh so much?” the assistant librarian pondered.
“No, wait, why do Twilight’s books have to weigh so much?” he revised his earlier question. The purple dragon had picked up a shipment of reading materials from the local mailmare, and is now on his way back to the tree-brary. A sudden sonic boom nearly topples the poor guy, to his surprise. Before he can start on his trip again, a streak of white crashes through the same house where the sound originated from.
“Hoofston, we’ve got a problem!” yelled the frantic mare, as a similar streak of grey charged her prey. “Tavi doesn’t like pranks!” came the voice again. Amused by the spectacle, Spike brushed off the books and returned them to their satchel. He had only taken a few steps when the sound of wood on flank echoed through the mostly empty street. Turning around at the sight, Spike saw a mostly broken cello relinquished to the dirt besides the fallen two figures. Who were busy fervently kissing one another at the moment to care.
“Mares, who can understand ‘em?” he shrugged.