"Pleased to meet you, Mister Lightning," said Snails, getting up and proffering a hoof in the manner that Miss Cheerilee had taught him. "And thank you for your hospitality." Snails was determined to make a good first impression, or at least first impression as an adult, on this imposing stallion. Cheerilee had impressed upon him the importance of giving respect to get respect, and she was one of the Ponies whom Snails respected most in all the world.
White Lightning beamed all the more broadly at Snails, and shook his hoof in the true hearty Earth Pony fashion.
"Wal," he said, "ain't you a polite young stallion. White Waggoner Lightning at your service, my fine lad, and you've already met my darling wife, the beautous and talented Evensong Pinetree Lightning, many times before."
The middle-aged Evie giggled like a little girl, blushed and waved a hoof at her husband. "Oh, you charmer!"
White Lightning looked at Snails, arching an eyebrow.
"Snailsquirm Glisten Carrot," replied Snails, giving the family names of his father, Damp Glisten, and his mother, Bitsy Carrot, to match the form he believed White Lightning had used. Equestrian naming customs could be complicated, and they varied, not only from Kind to Kind but also from province to province and even sometimes town to town. Snails used the Earth Pony system most common in the southern Vale of Avalon, which was matrilineal but also mentioned paternal descent.
Snails, who was not and never would be the brightest Carrot in the garden, regardless of which sex he wound up, performed these geneaological calculations rapidly and unconsciously. They were simply part of his cultural assumptions. You and I display similar feats of intellect all the time without even thinking about it. To merely be a sapient, social being takes more intelligence than we often realize.
"And I," Snips said proudly, am "Snipsy Snap Fields."
White Lightning looked down at the short, stocky young Unicorn and blinked mildly. "Yes," he agreed. "You still are."
Snips and Snails both chuckled.
White Lightning exchanged a glance with his wife. Then he smiled benignly at the young duo.
"Wal," the middle-aged stallion said, "you sure seem like two honest young gentlecolts. You're of course always welcome at my humble abode, but does any particular business happen to bring you by today?"
Snips stepped forward, drawing himself up to his full height -- which was actually not all that impressive -- and declared in his most grandiloquent manner.
"My good friend and boon companion Snails has just turned sixteen, and is thus now a stallion!"
"Wal, that's nice," said White Lightning, and smiled at Snails. "Congratulations, and Happy Birthday!"
"Thank you," replied Snails. Then, excitedly, "Mrs. Lightning was telling me that I can take up singing again if I just go down an octave!"
"Is that so?" Whitey asked, glancing at Evie, who nodded.
"Snails has a really clear and strong voice," the plump mare affirmed, smiling fondly at the young orange Unicorn. "He's becoming a grown stallion, so he can't quite reach the high notes that he once did. We went over some scales together while we were waiting, and we've found his new range. It's about an octave lower; maybe a bit less, but close enough. The colt has promise."
"That's sure nice!" said Whitey. "Sure, if my Evie says you could be a singer, I'd take it serious." He regarded his wife warmly. "That gal's forgotten more'n most Ponies ever learn about singin'."
"Oh, Whitey dear, you do go on some!" said Evie, blushing slightly and waving a hoof. Then, she looked directly at Snails, abandoning all embarrassment, fixing him firmly in the gaze of her expressive violet eyes. "Snails, dear colt, I really hope you let yourself shine as a singer. You're still young -- you can try out at competitions, find out just how good you can be, before you wind up with a wife and foals, all sorts of responsibilities. If you do well, maybe that can be your life, and you can support a family on it. If not -- 'least you'll make some nice memories."
White Lightning looked lovingly at Evie, but there seemed something sad in his exression. Then he turned to Snips.
"Snips, my fine fellow, what sort of order do you have?" White Lightning queried.
"Um --" said Snips, seeming briefly surprised, "a half-gallon jug of your usual whiskey?"
"The ten-bit, then?" asked Whitey.
"Sure!" said Snips.
"It's on the house," said Whitey. "for the occasion of Snails' birthday. And to celebrate my wife's discovery of his possible singing career."
Evie smiled warmly at Whitey, then at Snails.
Snips got a cunning look.
"So," he said slowly, grinning gap-toothedly, "would that offer also apply to the twenty-bit brew?"
"Sure," nodded Whitey. "I'll give you that for ten bits off, which is to say -- ten bits."
"You don't think that you could, maybe, make the twenty-bit bottle comp-li-mentary?" asked Snips slyly.
Whitey fixed Snips with a cool and level stare.
"I'm a businesspony," the older stallion said. "So -- no."
Snips got a coy look. He tilted his head sideways. "Are you sure of that?" he asked.
Whitey's exression grew distinctly cold. "Son," he said. "'no' means 'no.'"
Snips grinned in a matter he probably imagined to be engaging.
Whitey sighed. "Are you aware that I am, tech-ni-cally speakin', the leader of an organized criminal gang -- and I just might
be violent and dangerous?"
Snips' eyes went very wide, then the pupils shrank to pinpoints. "Um ..." he said, shuffling his hooves and eyeing the door.
Evie coughed, delicately covering her mouth with one hoof.
Snails was embarrassed, and a bit frightened. Snips had just tried to take advantage of the Lightnings' kindness. And Snips seemed to be making Whitey very mad. If Whitey tried to hurt Snips, Snails would have to protect his best friend -- and this would be both dangerous and upsetting, as Snails so far liked the Lightnings.
"Now," Whitey asked, very calmly, "do you want the ten-bit bottle or the twenty-bit one?"
"Um ... um ... ten bit?" squeaked Snips, looking as if he feared Whitey would kill him if he gave the wrong answer.
"Good!" said Whitey, a smile breaking out across his face. "As I said, today that's on the house!"
With that, the tension instantly vanished. Snips laughed nervously, Whitey chuckled, and Evie giggled with in the tones of a sweet young mare, while Snails let out a sigh of relief. Evie met Snails' gaze and smiled warmly at him.
Whitey grinned and said, "Aw, Bells O'Tambelon, I was just funnin' y'all, I wasn't that mad, and I ain't all that violent. Just a little peeved, that's all!" He whinnied and stomped the floor, laughing uproariously.
"Oh," said Snips. "Oh! Um, I was never scared!" he boasted.
Whitey and Evie both laguhed even more. Even Snails snickered slightly.
"I don't scare that easy!" protested Snips. "Remember when we fought an Ursa?"
"In all honesty," said Snails, "I must point out that --"
The front door swung open, and three Ponies came in.
"Oh good," said White Lightning, mildly. "More of my desperate gang has arrived."
***
The first through the door was a tall, rangy young stallion, apparently a few years older than Snips and Snails. His coat was leaf-green, and he wore his long yellow mane in a ponytail. He had on light tan hunting leathers, and a small crossbow was slung on his back. He stepped into the room, and regarded Snips and Snails with curious, intelligent dark-brown eyes, very like Whitey's. His Cutie Mark was two eyes peering out from behind several corn stalks. Snails thought him strikingly-handsome.
The second was a young mare, seeming about the same age as the first. Her coat was mottled gray, brown and black, with her mane mostly under a dun-brown cap; a few amber strands peeked out. She was clad in light brown hunting leathers, dyed as mottled as her coat. The effect was to thoroughly break up her outline, in a very confusing manner. Her Cutie Mark was two faintly outlined hooves on grass. Her eyes were of exactly the same hue's as were the young stallion's. She bore a big hunting knife, and a bandolier of smaller ones, such as Snails had once seen Trixie use in a knife-throwing act.
Those two Ponies stood very close side by side, as if for mutual support. Seeing them like that, Snails thought they were siblings, maybe even twins. They had strange body language, less like that of Ponies than of predators, like two big mountain cats. They definitely looked dangerous -- but hardly hostile, at present.
The third was a filly, a few years younger than Snips and Snails; right at the point where she was starting to become a mare. Her coat and mane were both almost pure white, with her hair slightly yellowish-white and her coat various shades of very light creamy to grayish white. She bore a hunting knife and an assortment of ropy traps, including one from which some unlucky small and still furry creature was dangling. Her eyes were violet, like those of Evie's, and as they caught sight of Snails, they widened with strong interest.
Snails might have found this interest more flattering, had it not been for her sharp-nosed, angular and predatory features -- and the gruesome implications of those traps and the dead animal. Her cutie Mark was an outline of a white weasel or similar beast, and Snails could not help but notice that -- with her frisky nervous energy and long, slim, high-backed build -- she rather resembled such a creature in her own right.
Each of them had some fluid-filled jugs of various sizes hanging from their harnesses.
"These are all our joys and burdens," Whitey said to Snips and Snails. "The three youngest of my pride." He indicated the two older, similar-looking Ponies. "Sweethooves," he said, nodding his nose at the mare, "and Cornstalk," nodding at the filly. "But everypony calls 'em Sneaky and Stalky, on account of their woodcraft. Came into our lives on the very same day." Then, addressing the duo, "These are Snipsy Fields and Snailsquirm Carrot, or less formally, Snips and Snails, of Ponyville."
The two Lightnings thus indicated smiled and nodded at Snips and Snails, more or less pleasantly, according to their individual natures. Stalky -- the stallion -- gave them a shy but friendly smile. Snails fancied that Sneaky, though, narrowed her eyes and glared at himself, in particular, with hostile suspicion, and forced her own smile.
"And this lil' snowflake," Whitey said fondly and looked at the white filly, "is my little Ermine."
"You can call me Ermie!" squeaked Ermine at Snails, and flashed over to him in a single fluid motion, rather like that of the animal for which she was named. She gave him a hug. As she did so, Snails could not help but notice that her mouth moved uncomfortably close to the left side of his neck, her lips almost brushing Snails' neck hairs, right over the jugular. She smiled widely, and Snails became aware that her teeth seemed unusually big and sharp for her size.
"I like you!" Ermie whispered into Snails' ear, and -- before the startled young stallion could react -- she darted back away to hide behind her two siblings, peeping out to grin at him.
Snails, for his part, simply stood there, his ears burning. He had not the slightest idea of what -- if anything -- he had done to attract the white weasel-filly's attention. She rather frightened him.
"Stalky," asked White Lightning, "could you pass me a half-gallon jug of the regular?"
"Sure, Paw," the green stallion said, removing a jug from his harness and giving it to his father.
His sister Sneaky hmphed and continued glaring. Now, for some reason, she seemed to be glaring especially at Snails.
"Now," Whitey said, "it's somewhat traditional to let the customer sample the brew. You don't mind if I open it now, do you?" he asked Snips.
Snips shook his head. "Of course I don't!" he declared.
Whitey uncorked the jug, sniffed it, then poured a little into the cup -- just enough to half-fill the container. The fluid was mostly clear with a faintly-whitish tinge to it, and smelled slightly like sour corn meal, but much sharper. "This is a good brew," Whitey commented. "Made with only the best equipment, and we're careful about testing and washing regular-like. Ain't worth it to rush the job if you wind up making your customers sick. We burn off the first head, then reprocess with the thumpers -- takes a little longer but you're sure you're getting drinking alcohol that way, nothing you wouldn't want to pour down your throat, if you see what I mean?"
Snails sort of got it -- he vaguely remembered Miss Cheerilee teaching a chemistry class and explaining the difference between ethyl alcohol, which you could safely drink in moderate quantities, and methyl alcohol, which was quite poisonous. Hadn't she said something about one danger of inept distillers being that they might aim to produce the former, and wind up contaminating their product with the latter, which could blind or even kill you? Oh yes -- she'd warned them about the danger of accepting drinks from ... moonshiners. Like White Lightning. Snails felt vaguely nervous. But then Snips seemed to think that the whiskey was okay.
Snips more than seemed to think so, he demonstrated the courage of his convictions by eagerly taking the cup and downing about half the whiskey. He was clearly a more experienced drinker than Snails -- both, of course, had grown up in a culture in which it was normal for minors to occasionally drink alcoholic beverages, but not to drink whole cups of hard liquor; however Snips had visited the Lightnings before. He may have been less afraid of Cheerilee's warning -- while neither lad was exactly a model of prudent conduct, Snails tended to have greater admiration for his teacher, and consequently paid greater heed to her words. Or, most likely, he had simply forgotten that long-ago discussion of the types of alcohols.
In any case, Snips quickly swallowed the sample. He wheezed, his eyes briefly bugging out, but then he smiled, rocking back and forth happily on his hooves. "That's the good stuff, Mister Lightning!" Snips gasped enthusiastically.
"Glad you like it," replied the master moonshiner.
"Can I taste it now?" asked Snails. He was quite curious to find out how the moonshine differed from the large amounts of mildly-alcoholic and very tiny amounts of strongly-alcoholic beverages he had consumed at parties in Ponyville. Most of his experience had been with berry wine or apple cider, both of which Ponyville produced. He had never had any hard corn whiskey, but assumed that it couldn't be so very different from the drinks to which he was more accustomed.
Snips passed him the now quarter-full cup.
"I'd take that first swig fast and get it all the way down --" began White Lightning.
Snails sipped delicately at the contents of the cup.
For a moment, he tasted merely sour corn, and then Snails' gustatory and olfactory senses were overwhelmed by the sheer strength of the alcohol. It seemingly burned in his mouth, flamed in his nostrils, and charred the vomeronasal organ on his upper palate. His eyes streaming tears, he wheezed, half-expecting to spew out Dragonflame, but instead violently coughing out from his mouth and nose a spray of moonshine which mostly landed on Snips, because Snips was whom Snails had happened to be facing.
"-- afore you try to sip it," Whitey concluded, now-unnecessarily.
"I ... see ..." gasped Snails. He looked at his cup, and discovered to his dismay that not only had he sprayed whiskey into the middle of the Lightnings' living room, but also spilled the remaining contents of the cup during his coughing fit.
Between his manifest inability to manage the liquor, and the mess he had made of the Lightnings' parlor, Snails feared that he he had made but a very poor impression indeed upon his hosts. Certainly, he knew that Mrs. Lightning must be annoyed at him.
"I'm so very sorry, Evie," he said to her. "I've gone and made a mess in your house. I should help clean it -- ?"
Evie interrupted with a cheerful laugh. "Oh, pay no mind to it," she said. "I'll tidy it up in good time. Moonshine spills are merely the hazard of my family's profession, dear Snails."
"Here, lad," added Whitey, pouring out another small measure of the whiskey. "This time, drink it right down!"
Snails felt a little leery of the potential consequences, given that he had just spectacularly made a fool of himself; but he did not want to look like a scaredy-cat in front of Snips and the Lightnings, especially because he didn't know the Lightnings all that well, but they had mostly been very nice to him. So he did exactly as White Lightning advised him.
This time, the moonshine went right through his mouth -- which was, in any case, now numb to the strong alcoholic taste -- and shot directly down his throat to his stomach. It felt like a line of strangely-harmless fire running from the back of his throat all the way down to his stomach, where it swiftly diffused into a pleasant, cheering warmth.
"Whoo," Snails intelligently communicated and sat back further in his chair.
"The boy appreciates our brew," said Stalky, a shy smile breaking out on his leaf-green face.
"Hmmph," commented his twin Sneaky in an equivocal noise, which might have signified either contempt or grudging approval, and looked at her brother.
Stalky smiled even more brightly at his twin sister, and this seemed in some way to mollify her, because her own expression grew friendlier.
"Well, I think the cutie-colt drank it down very well" chimed in Ermie, expressing in this fashion her support for Snails. She gazed at him boldly with her violet eyes, her sharp little face pointing on his own eyes, ears high and attentive. She had, clearly, marked Snails as her own in some fashion.
Snails recoiled before the naked possessiveness of the thirteen-year-old filly's gaze. It was not that he was unused to aggressive fillies -- he was, after all, a friend of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, who in many respects certainly could have given Ermine Lightning a run for her money. It was rather his horrid suspicion that Ermie was in some way attracted to him romantically -- a desire which Snails, because he was really Glittershell, knew he was peculiarly-incapable of fulfilling. He did not know how the fierce, almost feral, filly would react to what she might perceive as an unfair personal rejection. He feared he might find out, to his cost.
Still less did Snails want to give the Lightnings any reason to imagine that he was trifling with their youngest daughter. They had been very friendly toward him, but Snails could not help but notice that they were also very well-armed -- and looked as if they knew well the use of their weapons. Snails did not want to marry a filly at all. Still less did he want to marry one at bolt-point.
Though Ermie's parents did not yet seem at all troubled by Ermie's obvious attempts at flirtation. Instead, they looked at Ermie, looked at Snails, then looked at each other and burst out laughing uproariously. Stalky and Sneaky also laughed -- and to Snails' even worse chagrin -- so did Snips.
"Haw haw," guffawed Snips. "Looks like you made a friend!" He emphasized that last word and leered at Snails in a rather insinuating fashion.
The whole both embarrassed and -- suddenly -- annoyed him as being offensive to little Ermie -- who, after all, was just barely into her teens, and probably just over-reacting to seeing a new colt. After all, there couldn't be that many eligible colts -- or stallions -- of roughly the right age in rustic, out-of-the-way White Hollow. With some surprise, Snails found himself feeling sympathetic -- even protective -- toward the younger filly, almost as if she were his own younger sister.
"Snips," Snails began reproachfully, "you shouldn't oughta talk about Ermie --"
But that was as far as the chivalrous young Snails got in speaking up for the young lady's honor. For the young lady in question was a White Tail hills-filly, and a Lightning to boot; and she was not at all shy about taking a very active role in addressing any slights, however minor, upon her presumed dignity and virtue.
In a single blindingly-swift motion, Ermie darted across the room to stand nose-to-nose with the shorter but bulkier Snips. "Nose to nose" was here an entirely-literal term, as she in fact pressed that organ hard against Snips' own, so close to him that she might easily have kissed him.
However romance -- with Snips, in any case -- was clearly not Ermie's intention.
"Whaddya mean by sayin' it that way?!!!" she shrieked at Snips, spraying him with spittle. "You cain't talk 'bout me like that! Why shouldn't I wanna make friends with Snails? He's a really nice colt, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say about you, you nasty little sawed-off STUMP!!! With each phrase the filly screamed, she pushed her snout harder into Snails' own, seemingly-uncaring as to what damage she might thus inflict on either of their appendages. Had they been on the Primal Plains, this might have been the prelude to her biting him: as it was, Snips' eyes widened with fright, and he repeatedly backed away, until his tail was hard up against the wall.
In this position, unless Snips chose to fight or flee, he was trapped. And, both fighting against or running away from a younger filly were -- for different reasons -- unthinkable actions for any decent young stallion. The more so, because this confrontation was taking place right in front of both the younger filly's parents and two of her older siblings. So all that Snips could do was stand in place, and shiver, and take it.
"I- I- I-" stammered Snips, clearly terrified.
"What?!!!" Ermie snarled.
"I-am-very-sorry-I-offended-you-Miss-Ermine-and-beg-your-pardon!" Snips said very rapidly, then closed his eyes, as if expecting imminent death.
"Very well," said Ermie, almost primly. And stepped back, smiling in satisfaction.
Then she glanced around the room.
Everypony, not unsurprisingly, was staring at her.
Snails was slack-mouthed in astonishment. During that whole confrontation, he had been utterly-unsure of what to do or say. He was embarrassed that Ermie's evident attraction for him had been the cause of Snips' misadventure. He did not approve of what Snips had said. However, he was not about to let Ermie harm his friend -- though he wasn't entirely certain of how he could stop her, especially without hurting her or getting severely hurt himself. He was very relieved that the situation had ended without real violence.
Sneaky was wheezing with laughter, and half-collapsed against the side of her brother Stalky. The kinder Stalky was not openly laughing at Ermie and Snips, but the corners of his mouth were twitching suspiciously. Whitey grinned sheepishly.
Evie merely gave her youngest daughter a sweet smile, and asked "Ermie, dear, it's good that you stood up for yourself, but that might have been a bit excessive, don't you think?"
Ermie's reaction to this extremely-mild rebuke was surprising. Her mouth formed into a horrified 'O', and she backed away rapidly, her eyes moistening. She stared at Snails, then looked at her parents and wailed "Oh no! I've skeered off another one!"
Bursting into open tears, she fled the room, retreating as rapidly as she had advanced, and ran upstairs. Her pattering hoof-beats could be heard through the ceiling briefly, then a door slammed and relative silence fell, broken only by bubbering loud enough to be heard downstairs.
Evie sighed and looked at Snails. "I'm sorry," she said. "My youngest can sometimes be just a wee bit -- excitable."
"I'm sorry," said Snails. "My friend Snips didn't mean to annoy her. I apologize on his behalf as well."
Snips looked at Snails with surprise. "Snails," he began in a rather hurt tone, "I didn't --"
Snails gently kicked the side of Snips' leg, in what he hoped was a subtle manner.
"My friend means that he didn't mean to offend Miss Ermine," Snails continued. Then, both because he felt bad for Ermie, and because he felt it important to draw the attention away from Snips before he dug them in both deeper, he added: "You may tell Miss Ermine from me that her company was delightful and I am sorry she became indup -- indisposed."
There. That would have earned him an 'A' from Miss Cheerilee in Deportment. It had to work.
Evidently it had, because Whitey and Evie exchanged glances, then both looked at Snails significantly.
"Wal," said Whitey, "isn't that nice of you!" He grinned amiably at the young stallion.
"We'll be certain to convey your compliments," said Evie. "Are you intending to depart right away, then?" she asked, looking at Snails in a strangely-speculative fashion.
"Yes!" piped up Snips, staring at Snails somewhat frantically. "We should get out of here! We have places to go, things to do, Ponies to see. Remember?"
"Huh?" asked Snals.
Snips, in a manner which he doubtless imagined subtle and surreptitious, kicked Snails sideways, in Snails' lower right hindleg. Snips had probably meant the kick to be but a gentle one, but to Snails it certainly didn't feel that way.
"Ow" cried Snails. "Why'd you go and do that?" he asked Snips.
"What?" asked Snips. He looked with some alarm at the Lightning parents.
They, for their part, merely continued to smile at the two young stallions.
"Oh," said Snails. "Right, we have to be going. I've really enjoyed everypony's company here," he said, "and I hope to come back someday."
"You do that," said White Lightning.
"Don't be a stranger," added Evie.
Snips and Snails made for the door.
"Hold on one bit," said White Lightning. He grabbed something, advanced on the pair.
Snails looked at the patriarch in curiosity, while Snips shrank back in evident fear.
"You nearly forgot what you came for," Whitey explained, passing him the half-gallon mug of moonshine.
"Heh," laughed Snails. "Thanks, Mr. Lightning. Wow, it sure would have been foolish for me to leave that behind!"
"Yep," said White Lightning. "Sure would'a been." He smiled warmly at Snails, a smile that fully included his eyes. "Everypony makes mistakes, son. Don't fret it. You're all right in my book. Enjoy my brew -- find somewhere safe, like in White Hollow or Ponyville, not in the deep White Tails or, worse, the Everfree. Hope to see you back as a customer again." He smiled even more broadly. "Then I'll charge you. But not too much, cause I brew the best shine at the least expensive prices you'll find anywhere!"
The other Lightnings made whoops of enthusiastic agreement, by way of backing up Whitey's claim.
"C'mon, Snails," said Snips from the open door.
Snails stepped out onto the porch. The old mare was snoring beside the door; she'd obviously fallen back asleep and slept right through the arrival of Whitey and his children, Ernie's tirade against Snips, all of it. Snails smiled at the sleeping grandmother, and she opened her eyes, gave Snails a wink and a broad and mostly-toothless grin, then closed her eyes again, returning to her previous apparent slumber.
Snails could not have expressed his reasoning, but he felt that the old mare somehow symbolized the Lightnings in general.
"Come on," urged Snips, "we should get going!" The shorter stallion began trotting down the front walk to the main road outside.
Snails sighed at his friend's impatience, but he saw no reason not to accommodate Snips' desire. So, making sure to secure the jug firmly in his saddlebags, he trotted away after his friend; a trot that soon turned into a gallop as they pulled out of sight of the sprawling Lightning House, and away from the rustic hamlet of White Hollow.