Have I got a handy dandy hoofy doofy cure for you! A fix for all of your holiday ills! A super duper pony snoot booper of an idea.

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Standing in the winter storm, wearing a heavy black cloak that did not move, did not ripple, it somehow remained completely unaffected by the howling wind, was him. The long terrible bladed jagged horn. The emerald eye embedded in a plug of black glass. The scarred withered face. His hood was back, leaving his features visible.

From the last chapter but not the epilogue.

So... who cares to venture a guess as to whose cloak that is?

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“Lord Bitters, you have some ponies needing to speak to you,” the guard reported.

Bucky scowled, hating the sound of those words. He wondered why Sentinel had not prevented this. He looked around the forge. He was covered in soot and sweat. “I guess I will step outside to see them,” he growled.

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The Chance is done. There is still an epilogue to write, but it is done.

Much has been revealed, some things have been answered, there are now questions, and the final chapter leaves behind a major mystery if one is paying attention to everything that goes on there.

I hope you liked it, and I'd love to hear what you have to say about how it ended.

Tomorrow, the epilogue should be posted. Or today I guess. It is one am and it is Sunday, so later today the epilogue should be posted.

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Alas, The Chance is drawing to a close.

I hope people enjoyed it. I'd like to continue to dwell in Vanhoover. There are stories to be told there. This has been one of the first Post-Collapse stories in the Chase-Verse, but I really hope that it will not be the last. Time will tell and hopefully people will express some interest. I wanted to offer a glimpse into the harsh realities of the world, but also the promise of hope.

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“There’s been another attack… we just found him… the rats got another one in the night, that’s why he didn’t come down for the breakfast headcount!”

The older mare turned to glare at the younger mare, and the younger unicorn mare looked at Mignon, her face contorting with even more panic. She inhaled sharply and her eyes went wide with shock.

“Ooh,” the unicorn mare exhaled and then retreated through the door.

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So... let's see who is paying attention.

What type of unicorn is Mignon Croix? Just a guess... let's see who can figure it out.

Why didn't Magnolia Warbler die from exposure in the bitterly cold air of the night?

Any guesses?

Just needs moderator approval. So I don't know when it will arrive. I have no idea how it will be received, but I am nervous as hell. Like rapidly approaching a neurotic breakdown because I went ahead and posted a story that I have a bad feeling about and really didn't want to post.

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