//------------------------------// // Chapter 46 // Story: The Perilous Romance of Swans // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// The train, now on level ground, began to pick up speed. Gosling, wearing the silvered armor of the night patrol, tried to get comfortable on the bench he was sitting on, but his plate mail made it difficult. Giving up on getting comfortable, he consigned himself to just endure what was certain to be a very long ride to the Crystal Empire. The sky couldn’t make up its mind if it was night or morning, it was still dark but the first hints of dawn could be seen if one looked out the window towards the east. The passenger train was full of ponies. There were quite a number of pegasi, a fair number of earth ponies, and even a few unicorns. Some were sleepy, some were sleeping, some were reading newspapers or books, while others just stared out the window. Gosling looked at his companions. Seville sat on his right. The earth pony was bright eyed and bushy tailed. He was animated, excited, and almost seemed to vibrate in his seat. He had his press kit, his bag, and a stack of notebooks. Beyond Seville was Hush—a giant if ever there was one. Hush was so named because he never said anything. Gosling had been assured that Hush could talk if he wanted to, but the big dark, dusky blue stallion clearly didn’t want to, or had nothing to say. Hush was a bit more draconic than most of his kind. He had more scaly patches, he had long, terrifying curved claws growing off of the thumbs he had on the central knuckles of his wings, and he wore black goggles over his eyes to protect them from the light. Hotspur sat on Gosling’s left. Hotspur was the one that Gosling was most curious about, as Hotspur was from the Broncs. The stallion was a little older, a little weathered, and his mane, what little could be seen beneath his helmet, was greying. “So,” Gosling said, trying to start a conversation, “how did you end up in the night patrol?” He waited, uncertain if the stallion beside him would say anything. Gosling was bored already and hoped that some conversation would help pass the time. If all else failed, he could always talk to Seville about the news. After several long seconds, Hotspur cleared his throat. “A long time ago, there was this pony, see, and he always tried to do good, he did. He was a nice pony, kinda quiet he was, and he married his secondary school sweetheart. They were young and stupid, but they made it work somehow.” There was a scritchy scratchy sound as Seville set his automated quill in motion so that all of this could be written down. Hotspur stared at the quill for a moment, the corner of his mouth quivering, and then he made a faint shrug with his wings. “So, this pony, he settles down, and he does the right thing, because he doesn’t want his dad blacking his eye. He’s married and he don’t go chasin’ no tail, ‘cause that’s wrong, and it’ll shame his mom and his dad. He gets a job in a furniture factory. It’s not much, but it’s honest work and has good benefits. He becomes a lathe turner and he makes legs for tables and chairs. And that’s all he does all day for eight hours.” Reaching up, Gosling adjusted his helmet strap so it wasn’t so tight against his jaw. “This pony, he becomes respected. In the neighborhood, other ponies know he’s good. He don’t chase no tail. He’s trustworthy. He’s respectable. He makes enough money that his wife, whom he loves, can be a stay at home mom. There’s now two little foals, a colt and a filly. The rent is breaking his back, but he’s managing somehow, only now, he’s working twelve hours a day.” Turning his head, Gosling looked into Hotspur’s bright orange eyes and saw sadness. “So, this pony, he comes home one day, but he’s early, see… there’s a problem at the factory. The steam main is busted wide open and none of the machinery works. So, he goes home, and he has flowers, and he’s planning on surprising his wife. He’s gonna take her out to dinner and thank her good and proper, for being a good wife, a good mother, and for keeping a good house. For doing her part.” Hearing Hotspur’s story, Gosling felt his mouth go dry and he suspected the worst. “So… this pony, he comes home, and what does he find?” There was a long pause from Hotspur, who drew in a deep breath before he continued, “I’ll tells yous what he finds… he finds the mother of his foals, his wife, under a stranger. It unhinges him, it does. Yes it does. He loses his mind right there on the spot. He has no memory of what happens next, see?” Gosling blinked in astonishment and he heard Seville swallow. “So this pony, he loses his mind, and he has no memory at all of killing his wife or the stranger pony that was screwing her while his foals were in the next room over. And it ain’t no regular killing either… no… it’s messy. This pony, he kicks and stomps his wife and the stranger to death, and then, still bloody, he goes into the bedroom where his foals are, and he holds them, and he cries, but he has no memory of all of this, see?” For Gosling, cheating was just about the worst thing that could happen in a relationship. He felt sickened, disgusted even, but he also felt sympathetic. He could see the pain in Hotspur’s eyes, the grief, the sadness. “Princess Luna herself got involved, after this guy keeps saying he doesn’t remember what happened during the police interrogation. Wardens got sent out. But Princess Luna, she hears this story, and she comes out to Manehattan herself to find out the truth. And she does… she finds out that the poor schmuck flipped his wig and lost every single one of his marbles for a little while. So it gets called ‘a crime of passion’ and this poor pony, he’s put on trial. He pleads for mercy, but admits to his crime, ‘cause even when everything has turned to horseapples, he still wants to do right. His mom and his dad are there with him every step of the way, trying to do right by him.” Unable to help himself, Gosling wondered what his mother would do in this situation. “Princess Luna, she overrides the courts and bypasses everything… she’s merciful, she is… she understands passion… she understands losing your fronkin’ marbles in a moment of blind, berserk rage. So… she offers this pony a choice. Life in a penal colony with clipped wings, or life in the night patrol, until such a time that he is too damn old to serve, and then he gets to go free. So this pony, he joins the night patrol, and now, he is sitting on a train, explaining how he ended up in this mess.” “Damn.” That was all that Gosling could say. He felt his jaw muscles clench. “The only consolation I have is knowing that my foals are with my parents. Her parents tried to get custody, but they were denied.” Hotspur let out a weary sigh and then a bittersweet smile spread over his muzzle. He reached up and adjusted his helmet, then turned his head to stare out the window. “Do you mind if I print this?” Seville asked, “I’ve been collecting stories from soldiers and this is a story worth telling.” “Bah, it’s been in the newspaper already,” Hotspur said in a dismissive voice. “Yeah, but has anypony told the story from your point of view?” Seville’s voice was low, calm, and reassuring. The soft spoken earth pony stared at Hotspur, who stared out of the window. Shaking his head, Hotspur let out a sigh… “No… nopony has told this story from my point of view.” “Well,” Seville replied, “since we have time to kill, let’s change that.” Watching as the world went by, staring out the window, Gosling listened to the exchange between Seville and Hotspur. Life in the Broncs… Gosling knew it all too well. It was a rough ‘hood filled with rougher, tougher ponies. But a lot of good ponies could be found there. It was one of the poorest districts of Manehattan, filled with slums, tenements, and factories that belched pollution everywhere. The ponies of the Broncs had their own way of talking, their own way of doing things, and their own special attitude. It was comforting, in a way, to hear the thick accent of the old ‘hood again. Gosling’s mother did her best to avoid speaking this way, but even she slipped into it at times if she got worked up enough. She had tried to keep him from slipping into it too much, always scolding him for talking like a hoodlum. She had done her best to see that he was cultured, refined, and that he could present himself well. Hotspur had no such filters and when he spoke, Gosling was reminded of home. Home? Well, it was home no longer, but it was the place where he had been born and raised. It had made him hard, flinty, and he knew that living there had something to do with him being a good soldier. “Eeeh, when you grow up as poor as we do, yous get some different values. Your word means something. Being respected means something. You ain’t gots money, see, but you do have your good word and your respect.” Nodding in agreement even though he was staring out the window, Gosling understood. He smiled a bit—hearing Hotspur say ‘values’ brought a rush of memories. Val-yoos. Gosling understood all too well. His own reputation had been irreversibly damaged by Skyfire and he couldn’t get no respect nowhere. Or maybe it was just the worries of some dumb colt that made far too much out of being accused of being gay. Maybe running away from home was overreacting. Maybe things would have turned out if he could have survived the razzing, the insults, and the constant harassment. He could have endured those things, perhaps, but the violence associated with it had gotten out of hoof. “So there is a lot of value placed upon a pony’s word,” Seville said to Hotspur. “We gots lots of earth ponies all living in one spot,” Hotspur replied, “and they’s all real honest sorts. Well, most of them. There are bad earth ponies.” Hotspur paused, closed his eyes for a moment, shook his head, then opened his eyes and continued, “But in general, these earth ponies, they’s good sorts. And then you have your pegasi, and we pegasi, we’ve been all about respect for a long time, it all goes back to our military traditions and our roots. And you has these ponies all living together, all packed together, yous gots thousands living on a single city block, and these values, see, these values all kinda get mashed together, so everything is all about your good word and being respected.” “That makes sense.” Seville’s pen scratched out letters at a brisk pace to keep up with the words being said. “Hmm, now Gosling makes a little bit more sense.” Hearing Seville, Gosling laughed hard enough to make his armor clatter but said nothing. He thought about Manehattan. Some ponies called it ‘the melting pot.’ A little bit of everything could be found in Manehattan, even though it was primarily an earth pony city. There was a whole lotta earth ponies in Manehattan, and the earth ponies there were good at making more earth ponies, or so it seemed to Gosling. Gosling’s thoughts were interrupted by the sensation of the train slowing. He eyeballed the trees and the farmland around him, trying to see if his mind was playing tricks on him. No, the train was slowing. He looked over at Hotspur and asked, “Hey, I thought this was an express train to the Empire?” “It is,” Hotspur replied, “well damn, this was a lot sooner than expected.” A somewhat clever pony, Gosling began to think about Luna and Celestia’s behaviour last night at dinner, he thought of himself, his importance, and his future. It didn’t take him long to puzzle everything out as the train came to a grinding halt. “I’m being used as bait, aren’t I?” Gosling asked. “Yous is,” Hotspur replied. “I don’t mind being used as bait, I’m willing to do my job as a soldier, but this train is full of civilians.” Gosling’s brows furrowed beneath his helmet and he shook his head as he began to feel angry. “Let me stop yous right there,” Hotspur said to Gosling, “there ain’t no civies on this train. Everypony yous see is on the night patrol or in the guard… except we has some agents of S.M.I.L.E. on board.” Before Gosling could ask what S.M.I.L.E. was, he noticed that the sky was filled with pegasi. They came out of barns, out of holes in the ground that had been covered over with canvas and camouflage, and sprang up out of trees. All of them were heading for the train. “Hoowee… we’s about to has us a throw down.” A crazed, maniacal grin was smeared over Hotspur’s crooked, scarred face. “Remember everypony… look like soft, helpless civies when we get boarded. We only get to surprise them once.” Seville, who was digging through his bag, pulled out not one, but two cameras, a camera brace for earth ponies, and a bandolier loaded with film. He slipped the bandolier over his body, strapped the brace to his neck, and mounted a camera on the brace. The other he clipped to the bandolier. A grim looking scowl was on his face. It was time to get himself a scoop. All around Gosling, ponies cracked their fetlocks and he could see that they were preparing for mayhem. He had heard it said that something was wrong with the night patrol, and it was true. Every word said was true. Some of the ponies looked giddy and had to work to restrain themselves so they would not give away the surprise. For a brief moment, Gosling felt pity for whomever was about to board this train. There was a screech as the train came to a full stop. “Gosling, yous needs to stay close to Seville here and keep him safe,” Hotspur said in a low voice. “I likes Seville, and I wants him to be able to tells my story when this is all over. So yous keep him safe, ya dig?” “Ya, I dig,” Gosling replied, wondering how and why two pegasi were using earth pony slang. Da Broncs, dat’s how. “Seville, whatever happens, you stay close to me, okay?” “Okay.” Seville nodded. “I’m about to become famous, aren’t I?” “Yous is.” Hotspur grinned at the anxious reporter. “If yous bleed with us, yous is one of us!” The sound of tinkling glass could be heard in another car. Gosling heard screaming. He had to tell himself that everything was fine and that there were no civilians on board this train—everything he heard was an act, an act to make the attackers drop their guard. He could feel the jitters setting in. Gosling was never one for violence, he never much cared for it, but he knew that it was unavoidable at times. He looked down at his body, thinking about how much larger he was since the night that Princess Cadance had surged. Larger, stronger, and no doubt, more capable. Plus, there was his combat training. He was no longer the scared colt in secondary school. He had passed combat camp and he had learned a little hoof-fu. The door between cars opened and a pegasus strolled in, followed by an entourage of other pegasi, who all poured in behind him. He was tall, a pale, pale shade of green that could be mistaken for white in the right light, and had bright crimson eyes. Gosling looked into those eyes and felt something, but he wasn’t sure what. He saw cunning—dangerous cunning, and fervent dedication that could only be described as zealousness. He was dealing with a true believer. “There he is,” the pegasus said, “the future prince. Come along quietly and nopony gets hurt. Do the right thing for your ponies, Your Highness.” The pegasus spoke in a sarcastic, mocking voice as he walked his way up the narrow aisle of the train. “Hey, I have an idea,” Gosling replied with a grin, “how about we find you a screwdriver—” “What?” The pegasus paused, his eyes narrowed, and he did not look amused. “Oh, I was just thinking, you’re going to need something to unscrew yourself once this is over,” Gosling explained. When he was done speaking, he chuckled, and waited. “I grow so weary of idiots,” the pegasus said in an exasperated voice as he glanced at his companion, who stood beside him. “Secure the future prince and see that he is gagged.” “Yous is making a mistake.” Hotspur got up off of the bench and stood in front of Gosling. He smiled at the strange pegasus and pawed the floor with his hoof as Hush got up and stood beside him. “Yes, my mistake was not bringing a pony to instruct you in better grammar,” the zealous looking pegasus replied. “Step aside and you won’t get hurt, you feebleminded, sentence butchering, halfwit.” “Hey, yous know what, Hush? I don’t like dis guy.” A dangerous toothy grin spread over Hotspur’s muzzle as he took a step closer to the stranger. “What if I told you that you are about to have your ass kicked?” “Then I would say that you are delusional,” the pegasus replied. “There are over a hundred of us. We’ve secured the locomotive. We have control of the train. And what do you have? An idiot prettyboy—” “Hey, I’m not an idiot!” Gosling retorted from behind Hush. “But damn, I’m pretty! You gotta recognise!” “As I was saying, an idiot prettyboy, two escorts, and what appears to be a reporter. Ask yourself if your misplaced, moronic ideals are worth dying for, before you utter another wasted word.” As the strange pegasus spoke, more pegasi swarmed in through the other door of the train car, leaving Gosling and his companions surrounded on both sides. “Your mom thought I was pretty too,” Gosling said with a laugh, “a pretty good lay.” “I am stunned by your maturity… our future prince, ladies and gentleponies.” The zealous pegasus looked at the passengers sitting in the benches. “This is the pony your princess selects as a husband. Are you not appalled?” “Hey, dat’s low, coming from a walking contraception advertisement… see, dis is what happens when you don’t pull out in time… you get this cumstain conceived, failed butterknife abortion over here.” “Ooooh daaaaayum!” one of the passenger ponies said. The zealous pegasus’ eye began to twitch. “Secure the prince and carve out his tongue!” It was hard to tell what had happened next exactly, but things had become interesting. Gosling found himself in a fracas. He had never been in a fracas before. He had been in melee, he had been in combat, he had been in a slobberknocker, but this was his first all out fracas. Much had changed for Gosling. He was no longer the gawky colt that he had been in high school. His guard training had been quite thorough. He thought about this as he headbutted a pegasus attacking him, smashing his helmeted head into his assailant’s unprotected skull. He was dizzy from the sudden movement and he felt swimmy headed, as if he was drunk. He recovered, turned his head, took aim, and bucked another pegasus in the face. He struck with so much force that it surprised him, Bodies swarmed around him, the combat was thick and chaotic. He stayed near Seville and the earth pony was busy snapping pictures of the brawl all around them. Gosling clobbered another pony that lunged for him and kept himself between Seville and danger. “He’s got a camera! He’s seen our faces! Get the camera!” There was a rush of bodies and Gosling braced himself. More of the night patrol spilled into the train car to join the fray. The sounds of terrific violence could be heard all around him. Hush moved through the attackers, stabbing and slashing them with his claws, headbutting them, and stomping them. Hotspur was mincing his foes. He moved with the steady, confident balance of a seasoned veteran. His grin was bloody and scarlet liquid streamed from his nostrils. He kicked, bucked, stomped, and smashed his enemies. One of the attackers ripped up one of the benches, held it in his fetlocks high over his head, and smashed Hush over the helmet with it. The big pegasus turned to face the head smasher and he let out a snort that could make a buffalo jealous. “I’m sorry,” the pegasus said as he backed away after he dropped his makeshift weapon. Hush, who was a firm believer in the old adage of, ‘sorry don’t always make it so’ punched the pegasus, who went flying through the window. The glass shattered, tinkling into hundreds of tiny shards, and the pony who went through the window was cut to ribbons. The nocturnal pegasus was done playing nice. “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAAAA!” A cream coloured earth pony cartwheeled through the melee, landed on her front hooves, and powerbucked a pegasus that was creeping up behind Gosling. Her hind legs scissored, one going left, the other going right, and she kicked two other ponies that were too close to Seville, trying to get his cameras. Much to Gosling’s surprise, it was Bon Bon, the candy maker he had delivered the dispatch to. He shoved one of his attackers towards her and watched as she delivered a vicious chop to his wing. He heard bones breaking—it was like a pony chewing up a big mess of celery. He cringed. The candy maker was mean. Inspired by Hush’s failed attacker, Gosling pulled up a bench and swung it with as much force as he could muster at a pony trying to kick Bon Bon. He swung with too much force—the bench shattered in his fetlocks—and the pony fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes. There were a lot of benches left. He ripped up another one, took aim, and swung for a pony that had just kicked Hotspur. He scored a glancing blow with the hard edge of the bench right below the pony’s ear, and struck with enough force that the pony’s cheek split open. The fracas was getting bloody now. Broken glass was under hoof and it crunched under Gosling’s armored frogs. Seville was standing up on a bench to avoid the broken glass. The invading pegasi were not so lucky. With each step, they trod upon the sharp slivers and shards of broken glass, leaving them with bloodied hooves and shredded frogs. As Gosling moved to attack a pony, there was a bright flash from Seville’s camera, and then Gosling found his movement restricted. Something tugged on his leg. He found that one of the attackers had slipped a shackle around his left front hoof. Rearing up on his hind legs, Gosling wobbled, his balance was still poor, and with a jerk of his left leg, he dragged his would-be captor over to him. As his captor slid over the broken glass, Gosling met his face with a mean right hook. Blood spurted as the pegasus’ lip split open. Gosling pounded him again, and again, and then looped the long chain around the pony’s neck and began to strangle him. Something struck him in the side, but his armor absorbed most of the blow. When another pony tried to buck him, he yanked the pony he was strangling in front of him as a shield. Hush lunged, his maw opened wide, and he bit through the chain that connected Gosling to his would-be captor. Snarling, Gosling shoved the pony he had been choking away from him, and he bowled over several ponies trying to get to Seville. Hearing a cry from Seville, Gosling whirled about just in time to see that a group of hovering pegasus ponies were trying to reach through the broken window to grab him. The earth pony had been sliced open by the jagged shards of glass jutting up from the window frame. Without hesitation, Gosling moved to help his friend, not thinking of his own safety. He grabbed Seville with his forelegs and tried to pull him back in. His armor protected him from the glass raking at his belly, but ribbons of crimson trickled from both of his wings, soaked into his feathers, and pooled on the floor. He braced his hind hooves against the wall and yanked, pulling as hard as he could on Seville. Something heavy struck his helmet and his ears rang like a bell as starbursts blossomed in his vision. Something struck him again, and then a third time. He was having trouble holding on. Somehow, Seville was still taking pictures, getting every unbelievable moment on film. Gosling collected his wits, but he felt his grip slipping on Seville. He heard a pained cry from his friend and something about the sound drove Gosling to rage. He snarled as his inner pegasus awoke. For the first time in his life, he felt it, something savage and primal. His bestial nature had awakened from its long, pleasant hibernation, and it was pissed. He didn’t try to pull Seville in, he shoved Seville out, and Gosling launched himself through the window. He drove his armored hoof into a powerful uppercut, snapping Seville’s captor’s head back, and the pegasus plummeted to the ground. Gosling lashed out sideways in a fearsome double kick, just as his instructor had taught him. His armored hind hooves connected to the gut and groin of one of Seville’s captors. A fine red mist filled the air between the pegasus’ hind legs, and he too, dropped down to the ground. Gosling grabbed his friend in his forelegs and flew upwards with him. Not knowing what else to do, he landed on the roof of the train car and set Seville down. Already, he had company. He stood, waiting, his lip curled back in a snarl. Seville lay in a bloodied heap, but somehow, the earth pony still had the presence of mind to take pictures. Help arrived, Bon Bon landed with a flip at the far end of the train car and hurried over as enemy pegasi circled overhead. Hush came crashing through the broken window, sending glass and splintered wood flying. He rose up into the air, his leathery draconic wings flapping, and with a thunderous, terrific crash of metal on wood, he landed on top of the car. With a golden flash, another pony appeared, a minty green unicorn. Seville was covered in a golden bubble as the minty green unicorn raised a shield around him. She stood in a defensive crouch, scowling, her bright golden eyes flashing with anger. When one of the flying enemy pegasi got too close, she blasted him with a powerful pyrokinetic blast that set his wings on fire. Fire and roiling black smoke streamed from the pegasus as he crashed into the field beside the train. Launching himself upwards, Gosling grabbed an attacking pegasus’ head between his front hooves and then smashed his helmeted head into the unprotected skull of yet another victim. There was a wet crunch and bright red blood spewed from now misshapen nostrils as the pony fell to earth. Hotspur was up on the roof now, fighting, and more of the attacking pegasi swooped down. The green unicorn took potshots at them, hitting some, missing others, and Seville never stopped taking photographs. Hearing wings behind him, Gosling whirled around just in time to catch a powerful two-hoofed buck to the face. While his helmet protected his head, it was open faced, and didn’t offer much protection. Stars swirled in his vision and he had trouble telling which way was up or down. He plummeted to the ground below and smashed into the dirt back first as a swarm of pegasi all went for him. Four little alicorns circled around his head, all of them looked worried. No, five alicorns. One of them was smaller than the others and he had trouble seeing her. He lay on his back, gasping, blood pouring down the back of his throat and choking him. “Get up!” Tiny Celestia urged as she circled overhead. “Don’t give up!” Tiny Luna added. “Be brave!” Little Cadance said. “You okay, Mistah Goose?” Itty Bitty Flurry Heart asked in a worried voice. “DON’T JUST LAY THERE, GO KICK THEIR ASS!” Pint Sized Twilight bellowed as she cupped both front hooves around her mouth. “GET TI-REKKED!” Pint Sized Twilight had the right idea. Gosling rolled himself up onto his hooves and spat out an enormous wad of phlegm mixed with blood. With a flap of his torn, bloodied wings, he launched himself into the air to meet his rushing attackers. With his balance issues, and having just taken a smash to the face, Gosling had trouble maintaining stability in the air. Lacking finesse, he slammed his armored body into an oncoming pegasus and heard the crunch of delicate wingbones. “Punch this one in the crotch!” Pint Size Twilight hollered before she vanished into nothingness. Being a good soldier, Gosling obeyed the commands of the now nonexistent princess. He uppercutted the pegasus that was flying down to attack him. There was a high pitched howl, a wet, meaty sounding splat, and the pegasus, who doubled over while clutching himself, fell out of the sky. He smashed into the edge of the train roof, spine first, bent into an unnatural angle, and then fell to the dirt with his body twisted in a way that was normally impossible. Landing on the roof, Gosling realised that the attackers were thinning out. He limped a bit as he stood beside Hush. He was worried about Seville. Beneath him, inside of the train, he could hear the sounds of fighting. There was lots of screaming, cries of pain, and pleas for mercy. The night patrol weren’t ones for mercy. The monsters they fought had no concept of mercy or quarter, and this had made the night patrol a mean, unforgiving bunch. Hotspur, his hide and armor bloodied, both with his blood and that of his enemies, scanned the countryside, trying to get a good view to check if there were any reinforcements coming in. He stood with one wing over his eyes like a visor, trying to see, while other members of the night patrol beat down any other ponies trying to attack the roof. There was a massive explosion and the next car down the line burst into flames. Burning wood and glass flew in all directions. There was shouting, but Gosling and the others could not make out what was being said, as their ears were ringing. Seville had somehow managed to capture the moment on film. “I’m guessing they brought dynamite as a back up!” Hotspur shouted. “Perhaps to blow a bridge if we got away.” The bloodied pegasus banged his own helmet as he tried to get his ears to stop ringing. As Hotspur banged his helmet, there was another explosion, this time further back on the train. Another car was blown into slivers of glass and flaming splinters of wood. Smoke rose up into the sky in a black column. Just as Gosling was about to say something, the locomotive exploded. The whole train shook and shuddered, and then Bon Bon let out a frightened cry as the cars ahead began to fall over, one after the other, as one tipped over it caused the next one down the line to do the same. As the tumbling train of consequences approached, Gosling grabbed Seville, Hush grabbed both Bon Bon and the minty green mare, and Hotspur launched himself up into the air with the others just as the car they had been standing on was yanked over. There would be no trip to the Crystal Empire… not today.