//------------------------------//
// Night 44, fragment nine: For clocks to purr. 
// Story: A mare and her dog 
// by cammera 
//------------------------------//

They were in the palace's library, 

"And this, and this- ignore the second chapter of this one, that's just a myth" One of the librarians wrote something in cover of the book "This one, too..." he put put them on a cart that he pulled "And that's all the books worth mentioning about Luna's capacity when it comes to dreams, at least that I can find here"

"Yes, thanks" Reddo picked up one, looked at its cover for a moment, and passed it to the librarians "Have a report on the books by the morning"

"And you didn't search before" Spike gave her a look.

"I had hoped that he wouldn't be that far gone. But if he has these golems..." she cringed "Some murders from the last year suddenly make sense"

"Huh... Reddo, can I ask you a favor?" he asked.

"Depends"

"Keep Twilight away from fights"

"I know you are her paladin," she sighed "I respect that, I really do. But we may need her strength"

"Its not about Twilight. Its about the people she'd be against"




-º-




"And how old is the old guy?" asked Quibra after a moment. They were following a path among the trees.

"He's..." the stallion stopped walking and drew five sticks in the dust "He is this old. The oldest of us" he said, beaming in pride "Really clever, he is. Can count to..." he pointed to the sticks "Four times this. I think?" he scratched his mane in confusion, but walked again with a shrug.

Quibra and Applejack shared another look.




-º-




Winona had, in a way, good luck.

She couldn't see the sheer amount of colors of her baroque prison. It was the kind of place that would've given Rarity an existencial crisis.

What wasn't so good, however, was that ORANGE HAT HORSE had been away from her for over three hours.

Winona walked in circles, searching for an exit, and scratched the door again. Her paws were leaving marks already, which was something of a general improvement. If she was going to be trapped, she'd ruin her prison as much as she could, using whatever means necessary.

But, dirtied prisons aside, three hours. Three hours. One was a large number. Two was a large number. Three was, thus, an extra large number.

This was unprecedented. She couldn't remember any instance of such a thing happening.

What was the BROWN MILK GIVER had said once? That sometimes your pony goes away for some time to mysterious places, and you have to wait loyally?

Well, enough loyalty. ORANGE HAT HORSE had had more than enough time in the bushes, of whatever it was, and her ears needed scratching.

So, when a few minutes later someone slid a food tray through an opening in the door, a finger was bitten mercilessly. And when the door was opened, a chocolate-colored bolt of fur ran away.

To freedom.




-º-




Twilight sat quietly in the ceiling of Reddo's castle.

A small clock floated near her, emiting the purr of a well oiled machine.

Tic. Toc.

She opened her mouth. Her horn was instantly alight by barely repressed magics, screeching in rage. She closed her mouth again immediately.

Tic. Toc.

Luna had tried to teach her, unsuccessfully, how to control anger. At the end they had decided that the root of the problem was precisely how hard it was for Twilight to truly feel anger: It was, in Luna's own words, a seemingly binary state between forgiving and murdering.