Blood Red Road

by Dawn-Designs-Art

Sandsea

Another dawn.

I bin travelin fast. Almost gallopin at times. Since I left Crosscreek yesterday mornin, I bin so anxious to make up fer lost time that I kept goin all day an all through last night, only stoppin to sleep fer a couple hours. I don’t feel tired. Not at all. I wish I never had to sleep agin. Not till I find Sun anyways. Here’s my cairn. The marker I left to remind me where the hoofprints end. My heart lifts. Deep down inside, I was afeared it wouldn’t be here. That I’d only dreamed I left it here to guide me.
The hoofprints is still here. The last trace of Sun. If no rain comes to wash ’em away, it’ll be a long time till the wind wears ’em down an they disappear. Maybe they’ll still be here when I come back with him.

I dump my stuff on the ground—saddlebags, crossbow, quiver. Nero’s bin flyin the last little while, swoopin an divin at me fer fun. Now he flaps down to have a rest on top of the gear. I ease my shoulders while I uncap my waterskin an take a long swig. I pour a little water in my eatin tin an put it on the ground fer Nero. I look out across the wide open desert. Sandsea. It stretches ahead as far as I can see. No trees, no hills, nuthin but flat dry land fer days. The moment I step past this pile of
rocks, I’m in a unknown world. Hopetown lies due north, at the foot of the Black Mountains accordin to Mercy. If I’m lucky, I’ll be there in a week. A week, she said. If I’m lucky.
Before I know what it’s up to, my hoof slides into my bag. It finds the heartstone an pulls it out. I place my other hoof over its coolness, rub its smoothness. My heart’s desire. As if a bit of rock could tell me that. I shake my head. If Sun was here, him an me ’ud laugh about it. I shove it deep in my my bag an swing my gear onto my back.

"Let’s go," I says to Nero. I step past the cairn. One step closer to Sun. I don’t look back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a Wrecker settlement. Jest like the places in Pa’s scare stories. Settlements swallowed by wanderin sand dunes, great waves of sand that ’ud cover places in minutes. Then, months or sometimes years later, the sands ’ud move on, an the
place ’ud still be there. There’s twelve metal shanties still standin here. Also a couple of rusty cars an carts, a wind pointer an some other crappy lookin Wrecker junk piled up. A dry, mean, pinched kinda place. But it ain’t none of it bin scavenged. If it had of, there’d be no doors or walls or anythin left on the shanties an they’re all still here, jest bent an twisted, probly
by the weight of the sand. No scavengers means it ain’t bin free of the sands fer long. Strange to think that if I’d passed here last week or yesterday or even a couple of hours ago, this might all still be buried outta sight. I could of walked right over it an never known.
I walk through slowly, Nero ridin on my back. I keep a eye open. You always gotta keep a eye open. You never know when you’ll come across somethin you can use. But I ain’t inclined to take nuthin away from this place. It creeps me out.
There’s a well. Water’s probly bad, it mostly is in these old Wrecker wells, but in desertland you cain’t afford not to check it out. I start to lift the rusted cover with magic when I see the faint markins on it. A pony skull an crossbones. Deathwater. I drop the cover with a clatter.
It sounds so loud in the silence it makes me jump. Nero flaps off in a panic.
Then I see ’em. Three rows of crosses stuck in the sand. The wood bleached silver by the sun, worn away, some to little stumps. The crosspiece of one hangs down, ready to fall.
A wily wind sweeps through, bent on makin mischief. It swirls sand around my feet, tosses it in my eyes an makes ’em sting. It moans, deep inside the well. Rattles at the doors of the shanties. Like somepony might open up and invite it in.
The loose crosspiece lifts on the wind. Drops silently to the ground. Blows away.
Deathwater. Shiftin sands.
Poor bastards.
Livin here.
Dyin here.
As I’m leavin the settlement, Nero swoops down at somethin on the ground. Starts to make the most almighty racket, shriekin an squawkin an flappin all over the place. I hurry over to see what’s causin such a fuss.

"What is it now, you crazy bird?" I says.

He’s got a little ring of smooth green glass in his beak. My heart stops.

"Ohmigawd," I says. "I drop to my knees beside him. Hold out my hoof. He places the ring on it. Gently. It’s Sun’s. From the necklace I made him fer our birthday. It’s still threaded onto a short piece of the leather string, snapped at both ends. He must of yanked it from his neck when they warn’t lookin.

Nero croaks.

"I know," I says. "He’s leavin a trail fer us to follow."

'I’ll find you. Wherever they take you, I swear I’ll find you.'

'You cain’t, it’s too dangerous. You gotta keep yerself safe. You an Penny. Promise me
you will.'

He knows me. He knew I’d come after him.

"We’re on the right track," I says. I scoop Nero up with magic an kiss his head. He smells of dusty warm feathers. "Yer the smartest bird ever lived. You know that, don’t you?"

He gives the little chuck chuck chuck that means he’s pleased with hisself. Then he squirms fer me to let him go. Nero ain’t much of a one fer magic an such.
The wind starts howlin at me to move on, liftin up handfuls of desert an throwin it at my face.

"Time to move," I says.

When I’ve gone half a league or so, I turn an look back. The settlement’s gone. Vanished. Swallowed by the sands once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I see the tabletop plateau in the far distance around mid mornin. Dusty red rock, high an bare of trees. From the top of it, there should be a clear view in every direction. Maybe I’ll even be able to see Hopetown and the Black Mountains from there.
Nero Flies to the top of the plateau an down agin, tryin to hurry me along. He cain’t ever believe how slow I am, how long it takes me to git places. I think he feels sorry fer me with my four legs an no wings.
I reach the plateau as the day starts to wane. I start to make my way to the top, weavin my way around rocks an over scree. Nero goes on ahead, hoppin from rock to rock nice an easy, then comin back to croak an caw at me to hurry along.

"Show off," I says to him.

I pull myself the last bit an flop on my belly onto the top. I git my breath, then stand up. It’s narrower than I thought it ’ud be, no more’n fifty paces across at the widest point. I’m on th’other side in no time. I gasp.
As far as the eye can see, to the horizon an beyond, it’s sand. Great crests of it, great sweeps of golden sand carved into waves an hills an peaks an valleys. Smooth on one side, ridged on th’other side. Vast. Endless. No sign of any town. No sign of any mountains.
I cain’t believe it. I thought I’d bin crossin Sandsea fer two days. But what I jest done was nuthin. That was only the beginnin. Here. Now. This is where the crossin starts.
My heart sinks into my hoofs. My belly clenches. I lick my dry lips. Nero flutters down an lands on my head.

"It’s big, real big" I says. "Whaddya think Nero?"

He croaks an bobs up an down.

"No problem, eh? Easy fer you to say." I look out over Sandsea agin. "It’s too big," I says. "Too damn big."

'Don’t give in to fear, Saba. Be strong, like I know you are.'

'I ain’t no quitter, Pa.'

If I’m careful, what water an food I got should last me another three days. After that, I got my bow an my wits.
Nero launches hisself over the edge of the plateau. He soars above the desert floor an caws, impatient fer me to git movin.

"Okay," I says. "I’m comin. You better be right about this."

An I start down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dusk. I’ll need to stop soon to make camp fer the night. All of a sudden, the wind picks up. It comes outta nowhere, wailin an moanin. It plucks at the sand on the top of a nearby dune an flings it away. What was it Mercy said?

'Take care crossin Sandsea. It’s one of the wild places. Listen to the winds.'

I take another step up the dune I’m climbin. I stop. Look around me. All around, the dunes is startin to shift, change shape.

"Holy crap," I says. I get a scarf from my bag an wrap it good an tight around my nose an mouth. The wind’s growin stronger. Bolder. It tugs at me, tries to pull me over. It wants me. Sand flies in my eyes, stings ’em. My cloak whips around me an snaps in the wind.

"Nero!" I yell. "Nero! Where are you!" The words git torn from my lips. Nero swoops an dives, cawin frantically. I scream over the roar of the wind. "Git outta here! Go on! I’ll be okay!"

He disappears.

The world howls its rage around me. It’s too big. I’m too small. The sand unner my feet starts to slide, starts to shift—like it don’t want me on it no more. Panic claws at my throat. My eyes is gritty. The sand’s blindin me. It’ll make me blind.
Do somethin. Quick. I pull my sheema down over my eyes. Now I cain’t see a thing.

What should I do? What do I do?

Feel the way. Go down. An git buried alive?

Keep goin then, keep goin! An git swept away?

What should I do? What do I do?

The sand dune collapses unner me. An that’s it. No choice.

I’m swept away.

Dark.

Hot.

Cain't move.

Cain’t breathe. Oh gawd, I cain’t breathe.

Weight. On my chest.

I’m movin. Slidin. Cain’t stop. Cain’t stop.

Cain’t-breathe-must-breathe-must-breathe-cain’t-breathe-cain’t—

I’m out. I’m thrown outta the sand.

I fly through the air face first an thump down, land hard on the ground. I gasp. I breathe. I cough. I roll to my side an yank my scarf down. I cough an cough an take in great, deep gulps of air. I breathe it in, drink it in, I cain’t git enough.
Then I grab my waterskin, rinse my mouth, spit out the sand.
After a bit, I start to calm down. I lie there, starin up at the pink dusky sky. I cain’t believe I’m alive. Then I realize. I’m lookin at the sky. I can see the sky. The first faint twinkle of stars. I ain’t breathin in sand no more. The wind’s gone. It must of left as quick as it came.

Slowly I stand, pull myself to my hoofs. I brush myself down, make sure I still got all my gear. Then I look. I’m on a wide flat plain. The sand dunes is gone. Not a trace of ’em left. Like they was never there. Like I dreamed ’em.

An standin all around me is flyin machines.

Flyin machines. Flyers.

Hidden away. Sleepin unner the wanderin dunes of Sandsea fer who knows how long. Could of bin fer any amount of time—a day, a week, a year. Maybe even hunnerds of years. Maybe ever since they was left here by the Wreckers.
They’re all laid out in neat rows on the sand. Like somebody planted ’em, thinkin they might grow. They stretch out, on an on across the plain. So many rows, so many flyin machines that I couldn’t even begin to count.

I walk in between ’em.

They’re all sizes. Big, small an everythin in between. They stand quiet, patient, like they’re waitin fer somethin.
They’re all rusted, with their glass windows smashed an their tires slashed an their bodies cut up to be took away by salvagers. The holes in their sides gape open like wounds.
A flyin machine graveyard.

I know about flyers. I even seen parts of ’em before.
Once Pa brought home a curved metal sheet he picked outta the landfill that he said was most likely part of a flyer. He used it to mend our roof. But the funny thing was, not two days later a big hotwind blasted through Silverlake an that sheet jest lifted up an flew away. Like it couldn’t wait to git outta there. The rest of the roof stayed put, jest that one bit went. Pa said that proved fer sure it was from a flyer.
I stand in front of one of the biggest ones. I stretch myself to my full height an go up
on my hooftips, but I still cain’t reach the nose.
Nero appears in the darkenin sky above me. He lands on my head, flappin his wings.

"Hey Nero." I bring him down to sit on my hoof. I nuzzle his head as I walk among the sleepin metal giants. "D’you think Sun came this way? D’you think he seen these? He’d like to see a entire one close to, that’s fer sure."

I come to a small one, more pony-sized. I touch the metal with its faded paint. It feels cool. Buried in sand with no sun to warm its skin. I put my hoof on the door. If I’m respeckful, I cain’t see how it ’ud do no harm.

"Be good now," I says to Nero. "Don’t you go peckin at things."

The door creaks. Sand pours out as I pull it open an climb inside. I brush the seat clear, slide onto it an look out where the window used to be. I wonder what the world was like when this flyer was new made, so long ago. What it would of bin like to fly in one. When Sun an me was foals, Pa told us all about how the Wreckers used to go up in the sky in their flyers. They’d soar an swoop all over the place, pretendin to be birds. Sometimes, he said, there’d be hunnerds of Wreckers all piled into one big one an they’d fly around together.
Me an Sun thought that was the craziest thing we ever heard. We didn’t believe him. An when we asked Pa why they did it, he said he didn’t rightly know, they jest did, that’s all. We figgered fer definite he was tellin tall tales. But now I seen one fer
myself … well, I dunno. Maybe it could be true.

The night’s drawin in. There ain’t no wind at all now. Not even a whisper. I feel so weary. My eyelids is so heavy, I cain’t hardly keep ’em open. I slide down in the seat an curl up. Nero huddles on my chest an snugs hisself unner my chin. I might jest catch a little shut eye before I go on.

Not fer long.

Jest a few minutes.

Jest a—

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

A sound.

I’m awake. Right away. Muscles tense. Ready to move.

Nero opens one eye. I hold a hoof to my lips. He knows what that means. There it is agin. Somethin movin. Outside. Someponies out there. I set Nero down on the floor. Then I roll outta my seat an crawl towards the back end of the flyer where there’s a part of it missin. I slip outside. I land in a crouch on the ground, scramble to hide behind the back tires. It’s a bright clear night. The ponies gettin nearer, I can see their legs, or I would if they weren't obscured by a cloak. If their travlin, they must have food, an my stocks gettin pretty low. I slide Lugh’s slingshot outta my belt. Pull a good-sized stone from my bag. I move silent as a cat, slippin between the flyers. My knees is shakin. I tell myself I’m with Sun, trackin a prairie chicken.

I check there’s only one pony, that they’re headed away from me. Then I step out into the open, an magically take aim with the slingshot. I wanna stun an maybe knock him over, not kill him. I let fly. But my magic is shaky. I hit him in the leg. He yells out. I run at him. I leap at him, knock him to the ground. He goes without a fight. I git him in a headlock an he starts screamin in a high screechy voice an kickin at my legs.

An all the time I’m pullin an headlockin, I got all these thoughts runnin through my head. Like … what’s a puny weed of a fella like this doin out here on his own … what a thin little voice … sounds more like a filly than a stallion … wait a minute, who does that voice remind me of? An then his hood falls back an—

"Let go!" she shrieks. "Lemme go, you bastard!"

"Penny Rose?" I says. I don’t believe it. My heart jest about stops from shock. "Penny!" I says.

"What the—?"

I haul her up an grab her chin so’s I can see her better. It’s Emmi an no mistake. My blood boils over so fast I think the top of my head’s gonna blow right off. "What the hell're you doin here!?" I yell.

"Moon?" she says.

"Who the hell else would it be?"

"I thought you was a sand spirit, from Pa’s stories!" She points at my face. "Yer face is all white!"

I brush at my cheek. Sand. I must be all coated with sand.

"What’re you tryin to do, kill me? That hurt!" she says, rubbin at her leg where my shot hit her.

"When I git finished with you," I says, "you’ll wish I had killed you. What the hell’re you doin here?"

"I’m gonna help you find Sun!" She glares at me, with her stubborn chin. "He’s my brother too."

"Gawdsblood, Penny, I told you to—argh!" I grab my mane with a hoof. "What’ve you done? You got no idea what yer doin!"

"Neether do you!"

"Don’t you be pert with me! Did you run away from Mercy?"

"No"

"Oh, so you asked her if you could come after me an she let you?"

"No, I—oh, why don’t you jest go to hell!" She claps her hand over her mouth. Too late.

"Gawdammit, Penny, don’t you swear! Don’t you ever let me catch you swearin agin!"

"You swear all the time!"

"I do not!"

"You do too! Anyways, I’ll swear if I want!"

"Oh no you won’t! An you know what? If Mercy dies of worry about you missin, it’ll be yer fault."

"Don’t say that," she says.

"Why not? It’s the truth, she's old, she could jus keel over from the stress'n worry of you gone missin."

"Yer the meanest person I ever met! I hate you!"

"You cain’t hate me half as much as I hate you right now!"

She starts to cry. I watch her, feelin all cold inside. I’m so damn mad at her, she can cry herself to death fer all I care. Then she chokes out, "I was afeared you’d left me ferever. Jest like everybody else. Ma an Pa an Sun. I know you don’t love me, not like you love Sun, but … please don’t leave me, Moon. Please. Yer all I got."

My heart twists.

'They’re gonna need you, Moon. Sun an Penny Rose.'

I feel a heavy weight start to crush down on my chest. I try to push it off. "You cain’t come with me, I says. It’s too dangerous. You gotta go back to Crosscreek. But I ain’t got time to take you. You’ll hafta manage by yerself. You remember the way, don’t you?"

"No," she says, pouting.

"Got enough water?" I says.

She holds her waterskin upside down. "Empty."

"Food?" I says.

"I et it," she says.

"Fer pity’s sake, Pen … what did you bring?"

She pulls Fern from her bag. The little peg doll that Pa made her. I look at her. "A doll," I says. "You brought a doll."

"I left in a hurry," she says.

I close my eyes. The weight thumps down on me. "You," I says, "are completely useless."

"I am not! I found you, didn’t I?"

"Stay here," I says. "If you so much as move a ear, I’ll kill you. An wipe yer damn nose."

She wipes it on her cloak. "Are you takin me with you?" she says. "To find Sun?"

"What I’d like to do," I says, "is leave you here fer the vultures to pick over."

I collect everythin from inside the flyer—Nero, my saddlebags an my weapons.

"Gawdam you, Penny," I says. "You always ruin everythin."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I ain’t spoke to Penny fer two days. I ain’t got naught to say to her. I’m still mad. She tried to talk to me a bit at first but gave up when I didn’t so much as grunt back. It don’t seem to bother her too much. She talks to Nero an sings little songs to herself. Don’t know what she’s got to be so damn cheerful about. We had some grub but not much. I pranged a jackrabbit with the slingshot a couple of days ago. Not too bad-tastin once it got roasted, specially seein how stringy it was.

We managed on that till last night, but now our bellies twist, cryin out fer food. I always save a little bit of whatever we got fer Nero, but mainly he’s gotta hunt. He don’t ever make a fuss, Nero, he jest gits on with it. Food might be scarce, but it ain’t that I’m worried about most. It’s water. Our supplies is low. We cain’t seem to find no wet stuff anywhere on this mean hard plain. I’ve got us on strict rations an I’m collectin dew overnight, but with two of us an Nero it ain’t nearly enough.

In the far distance, I can see mountains. They look to be a day or two’s walk from here, maybe a bit more. But it’s hard to tell how far anythin is in the desert with the heat shimmer an all. I hope we’ll be able to make it to there on what we got. We’ll jest
hafta, that’s all. There’s bound to be water in the mountains. Meantime, the sun beats down. The wind blows steadily. It saps my strength. My mind.

I know we should do like Mercy said an travel by night, but I cain’t stop.

I cain’t rest. Not till I find Sun.

We walk on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Noon time.

I’m jest thinkin it’s time to call a halt an take a break, when there’s a dull thud behind me. Penny’s lyin on the ground. I trudge back. Stare down at her. My head feels so dull. Fer a long moment, I cain’t think what I oughta do. Then … water. Penny needs water. I kneel, drag her into my lap an uncap my waterskin. I trickle a little into her mouth. She moans an turns her head away.

"Penny Rose," I croak. "You gotta drink." I tap her cheek. "Penny! C’mon!"

I press the spout to her lips agin. Water dribbles down her chin. Then, all of a sudden, it’s like she comes to life. She grabs the skin, tries to take a big swig but I pull it away. Water spills on the ground. The thirsty earth sucks it up.

"Dammit, Pen!" I says. "Now look what you done!" She jest looks at me, dazed. "Take tiny sips," I says. "Or you’ll git the cramp."

When I think she’s had enough, when she starts to look a bit better, I give Nero a drink. I squeeze the skin to see what we got left. Git a sick feelin. Half a skin. That’s it. I take the tiniest sip myself, then slip it back over my shoulder.
Penny’s sittin up. She looks at me, her sky blue eyes bright in her dusty face. An I wonder why I never noticed it before. Her eyes is jest like Suns.

"Sorry, Moon," she says.

"Ferget it," I says. "It was time fer a break anyway."

I’m jest liftin Penny back onto her hoofs so we can git goin. The wind flings sand into my eyes. I pull my hood down to pertect ’em. "Wind’s pickin up agin," I says. "We’ll hafta watch it." I go to yank Pen’s hood down too, but she stops my hoof.

"What’s that?" she says.

"What’s what?" I says.

"That." She points straight ahead. "Over there." I look. A plume of dust, bout a league away, is rollin towards us. "What is it?" says Penny. "Another dust storm?"

I shade my eyes an squint. "I dunno," I says. "It’s too far away to tell yet an there’s too much dust, I … hang on."

"What?" says Emmi.

"Looks like a sail," I says, frownin.

"You mean … a sail on a boat? Like the one Sun made fer the raft?"

"Yeah," I says. "That kinda sail."

"But boats go on water," she says. "Not on land."

The dust clears fer a moment an I see what’s comin at us. "This one does," I says.

It’s a boat all right. Well, more like a raft from the look of it. A flat wooden platform ridin high offa the ground on big tires. A hut in the middle, tucked right aginst the mast. A patchwork sail billows out, filled with the wind. It’s headed this way. They must of seen us by now. I look around. Nowhere to hide. Not a hummock, not even a rock. Flat in every direction. I slip my crossbow offa my back. Give the waterskin to Penny.

"All right, Pen," I says. "Listen to me an listen good. If I tell you to go, you go. No questions, no backchat, no tricks. You turn around an git outta here. Nero will take you back to Mercy at Crosscreek. He'll remember the way. An he’ll know how to find water. If Nero drinks it, that means it’s safe fer you to drink. D’you unnerstand?"

"Yes," she says.

"Good. Now promise me you’ll do what I say."

She hesitates. I grab her hoof, look straight into her eyes. "Promise me on the life of Ma an Pa. When I tell you to go, you’ll go."

"I promise," she says.

I set Nero on her back after tellin him to stay with her an then fit a arrow to my crossbow. My heart bangs aginst my ribs, my knees shake, my breath comes shallow an fast. The landboat scuds along the plain towards us. It’s movin fast. There’s a pony at the front. Leanin back, pullin hard on what looks to be a big wooden bar.

I take aim.

I can hear shoutin. As the boat races closer, I start to make out the words. "Sail down! Let the sail down!"

Suddenly, the top bit of the patchwork sail rips away, snatched by the wind. The rest of it collapses to the deck in a big heap. The boat goes outta control." Anchor!" yells the voice. "Throw out the anchor!"

Somethin goes flyin offa the back attached to a long rope. A big chunk of metal. Looks like a big fish hook. It hits the ground an skips along behind, throwin up clouds of dust. But the boat keeps on comin. "Look out!" the voice screams. "Take cover!"

There’s a terrible screech. One of the back tires comes free. It bounces high an goes spinnin off across the plain. The boat tips back an hits the ground with a almighty crack. It jackknifes. Skids this way, that way, shriekin an blowin dust all over the place. I’m still stood there, froze to the spot, my bow drawn.

"Moon!" Penny yells. "What’re you doin?"

I grab Penny rope an we dive outta the way. Nero flaps off in a panic. The boat scrapes to a stop, right where we was standin. There’s silence fer a moment. Then there’s a great groan an the boat tips forwards. Another silence. Then, "I really must work on those emergency stops," says a male voice.

There’s a little old unicorn stallion, his coats dull yellow, his manes dark brown, an he's wearing a big coat with sleeves to his hoofs. He’s clingin to the mast like a lizard on a stump.

"Don’t say a word," I whisper to Pen. "I’ll take care of this."

"Good day to you!" he cries. "I … er … let me just get my—" He reaches into his coat.

"Don’t move!" I yell. I run in front of the boat. I magically aim my bow right between his eyes. "Hoofs up!" I says.

"Wait!" he says. "We come in peace! We mean you no harm!"

"Let go of that mast." I take two quick steps closer. "Put yer hoofs up."

"I assure you! We have nothing worth taking, my fearsome friend!"

"We?" I says. "Who else you got on there? Tell ’em to come out."

"Did I say we? I meant I. I! Nopony here but me! A slip of the tongue, an error under duress!"

I let fly with a arrow. It sticks in the mast jest above his head. He lets out a frightened squawk. Then he hollers, "Miz Pinch! Miz Pinch!"

A head struggles out from the heap of sail. A earth pony mare.

"Emerge from your nest, my dove," he says. "There’s … er … this delightful young mare would like to meet you."

She might have a grayed mane'n tail, but she’s a rawboned giant, the mare who shoves the sail aside an stands up. Her red-brown coats spattered with scars from sores, her cutie marks a serpent.

She takes one look at me an says to him, "Yer a idiot, Golden."

"I said hoofs up!" I says.

They sit an raise their hoofs above their heads. They gotta be the strangest pair I’ll ever see. He only jest comes to her shoulder. He’s got a fat round belly set on top of skinny little legs an he wears a cookin pot on his head fer a helmet. His coat’s cobbled together from the kinda rubbish you’d find in a landfill—cloth, slippy bags, shimmer discs an what have you. There’s pieces of tire strapped around his knees an his cutie marks a chipped piece of gold.

"That it?" I says. "Jest the two of yuz?"

"Yes!" He bobs up an down, lookin like a silly quail. "Yes, that’s it! Please—I beg of you, my dear—please don’t hurt us. You see, I have a weak heart and the slightest—"

"It’s only a filly, you old fool!" Miz Pinch kicks him in the ankle. Hard. He crumples in pain.

"Yes, my heart’s delight!" he gasps. "But, as you can see, she’s a veritable warrior, armed and—

"Keep yer hoofs up or I’ll shoot agin!" I yell.

They raise their hoofs. "If thievin’s yer game," the mare says, "we ain’t got nuthin worth takin."

"I ain’t no thief," I says. "Who are you? What’re you doin out here?"

"Golden Pinch at your service," he says. "stallion of business and captain of the good ship Desert Swan. And may I present my lovely wife Miz Pinch, whom you’ve already—"

"Shut up," I says. I nod at the mare. "You do the talkin."

"We’re pedlars," she says. "On our way to Hopetown. We got blown off course."

"Show me what yer peddlin," I says.

"Well, what’re you waitin fer?" she says to him. "Show her the trunk."

"I … I’ll have to put my hoofs down," he says.

"Go on," I says. "But no funny stuff."

He disappears inside the hut an comes out rear first, draggin a battered metal trunk behind him. He throws back the lid an starts liftin out bits of junk, holdin ’em up fer me to see—a couple of dirty glass bottles, pieces of bashed up Wrecker tech, a shovel, one squashed gumboot.

"All right," I says, "git back there with yer wife." Then, "Penny," I yell, "git over here!" She walks over. "Climb on an take a look inside that hut," I says. "Check if they got any weapons."

She scrambles on board, scampers past ’em an ducks inside the scabby little hut. I keep my bow aimed at the pair of ’em.

He clears his throat. "Lovely day," he says. His wife clips him round the ear.

Emmi comes out agin.

"All right?" I says.

She nods. "All clear," she says an jumps down to stand beside me.

"You got water on board?" I says.

Miz Pinch jerks her head an he goes scurryin into the hut agin. Comes out with a big plastic jug.

"Take it, Pen," I says. "Fill the waterskins."

He gives it down to her an she hurries to do what I told her. Now that I know they ain’t got weapons, that they ain’t nuthin but a pair of shabby old pedlars, I ain’t quite sure what the form is. Don’t seem to be much point in shootin ’em. They sit there with their hoofs up, lookin at me. Jest then, Nero decides to see what’s all the fuss about. He drifts down an lands on
Pinch’s cookin pot helmet. Leans over an pecks him on the nose.

"Ah!" says Pinch, battin him away. "Crow! Go on! Go away!"

I lower my bow. "All right, I guess yer okay. You can put yer hoofs down.

"There you go, my treasure!" Pinch says to his wife. "I knew she was a good ’un!"

Miz Pinch snorts an goes inside the hut.

"That’s what I call magnanimous!" cries Pinch. "That’s what I call sporting!" He slides down offa the Swan, grabs my hoof an pumps it up an down. "Well met, my gladiatorial friend! You have a merciful soul! A compassionate soul! A rare thing in these dark days, I assure you. Now … I know that such a model of justice wouldn’t wish to hinder a man’s efforts to remediate the cause of his most unfortunate … er … his most un— er … Dear me. I seem to have lost my train of thought."

"You better fix that wheel," I says.

"That’s it!" he says. "Precisely!"

"Well, git on with it."

Pinch scurries off to fetch back the tire that bounced away. I go over to help Penny finish fillin our waterskins. Then we drink till our thirst gits quenched an make sure Nero gits plenty too. The sounds an smells of cookin is startin to drift outta the little hut on the Desert Swan.

Penny sniffs the air. "That sure smells good," she whispers.

My belly’s squeezed tight. My mouth waters. It’s bin a long while since we et the last of that jackrabbit. Pinch rolls up, pushin the tire in front of him. He’s outta breath an the sweat pours offa him.

"You wanna hoof with that?" I says.

I help him prop up the boat. Then he gits his toolkit an we set to puttin the tire back on. Penny sits a little ways off, drawin in the dirt with a stick.

"You need tighter fixins on this," I says. "Lemme see what you got in that kit."

He raises his hoofs to the sky. "Not only merciful but a mechanic," he says.

While I pick through a glass jar of metal bits, he says, "I’m afraid we intellectuals aren’t very practical, my dear. I’m a constant trial to Miz Pinch, her cross to bear, but she never upbraids me for my failings, at least, not as much as I deserve."

"You sure do talk peculiar," I says.

"Ah! I knew you were a right ’un!" he says. He wipes his hoofs on a kercheef, then reaches into a deep pocket in his coat an pulls somethin out. He holds it like it’s a babby bird or a feather or the most precious thing in the world. It sure don’t look like
much. Two bits of brown leather wrapped around lots of thin little pieces of dried old leafs or somethin.

"It’s a book," he says. He gives me a look like I oughta be impressed.

"You don’t say," I says.

He folds back the top bit of leather with his weak lookin magic. Then the first leaf. Then the second. They’re covered all over with black squiggle marks.

"Funny kinda leafs," I says. I reach out my hoof to touch one.

"Careful!" Pinch brushes my hoof away. "It’s paper. Pages made of paper. It’s most ancient. Delicate. Rare. I found it locked away in a metal box. There is an ancient spell protecting this book from decay, probably thousands of years old, but it's fading now"

"I seen them squiggles before," I says to him. "On landfill junk." I spit on the ground. "That ain’t nuthin special. Bloody Wrecker tech."

"Oh no, it’s good Wrecker tech. Noble even! From the very beginnings of time. Those squiggles, as you call them, are letters. Letters joined together make words. And words tell a story. Like this one." He turns the pages over like he don’t wanna disturb ’em.
"It’s the story of a great king," he says. "His name was Sombra. The Crystal King of the Crystal Empire."

"Crystal Empire," I says. "Is that around here?"

"No my dear," he says. "It was a far away land, long long ago. Back in Wrecker times. The Crystal King has been dead for many hundreds of years. Here, this is what he looked like."

He holds the book out to me. The lines an squiggles on the page curve into the drawin of a strange unicorn stallion with fangs.
He’s got long thick black mane that looks like its flowin sorta. He's got a strange crown an a big cloak over his back so you cain't see his cutie mark, an hes got armour over his legs an chest. Sword at his side.

"His people worshipped him," he says. "They thought he was a god."

"Well I never heard of him," I says. "How’d you come to know all this?"

"There are some people—very few, mind you—who still have the knowledge of words and books. When I was a colt," he says, "I was lucky enough to meet one such mare and she taught me to read."

"So, the way you talk," I says, "all them funny words. That’s on account of … readin?"

"Yes," he says. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"Think I’ll give it a miss then," I says.

"Golden! Golden Pinch! Where’re you at?" It’s Miz Pinch’s screechy squawk.

"Here, my angel!" Pinch cries.

"You better not be gabbin instead of workin!"

"I’m not, my angel! We’re not!" He takes the book an pops it back in his pocket. We start in on the repairs. But it’s like he cain’t stop hisself talkin, cuz almost right away he says, "She looks to be a smart little filly, your sister. Bright as a button. I can always tell."

"She’s a pain in the neck," I says. "You got kids?"

"A son," he says. Then right away he says, "The sun is fiercely hot today, don’t you find?" He mops at his head, lookin up at the sky. "There’s no other word for it but fierce. Most uncomfortable. We could certainly do with some cooler weather, but ah … sorry my dear, you were asking … ah yes, children. Sadly, my wife and I were never blessed."

He ducks his head down. Like he don’t wanna meet my eyes. Yer lyin, Golden Pinch. Why would you lie about havin a kid?

We work in silence fer a bit. Then, like I don’t give two hoots, I says, "Where was it you said you was headed?"

"Hopetown," he says. My heart jumps into my throat. "But," he says, "as my good lady wife mentioned, the wind changed and the Swan was blown off course. We should have been heading due north."

"Hopetown’s due north of here?" I says.

"That’s right," he says.

"Well, if that don’t beat all," I says. "Hopetown’s where we’re headed too. We’re jest on our way there."

He darts me a quick look. "Well, well, he says. What an extraordinary coincidence. What a fortuitous meeting indeed. I don’t suppose you’d like to … climb aboard and sail with us?"

"I believe we might like that very much," I says.

"Then let us strike hoofs on it!" He holds out a greasy hoof an we shake hoofs. "You’ve got yourself a ride, young mare."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why’d you tell him that?" Penny hisses.

I grab her an pull her away where we cain’t be heard. "Don’t you listen to nuthin?" I says. "They’re headed fer Hopetown. That’s the place Mercy told us about, where they might of took Sun. He might be there. An if he ain’t, it’s a good place to start. We can maybe ask around, find things out."

"So we’re gonna go with ’em?" she says.

"That’s right," I says.

She sits an folds her arms over her skinny chest, shakes her head. "I don’t like it," she says. "An I don’t like them. Not one bit."

"It don’t matter what you like," I says. "I gotta find Sun. An any way that helps me find him faster, I’m gonna take it."

"You never listen to me," she says, her face all sulky.

"We'r goin with them an thats final" I say.

Miz Pinch’s voice comes from behind us. I jest about jump outta my skin. "So're you two decided? You comin with us?"

"We are," I say.

Suddenly, with her so close fer the first time, I realize how big Miz Pinch is. Tall'r'n Sun, with broad shoulders an stallion-sized hoofs an strong lookin muscles.

"Grub’s up," she says.

We sit on deck to eat—me an Penny Rose on the floor an the Pinches on rickety wood chairs they pull outta the hut.
Miz Pinch digs into the cookin pot with a long wooden spoon an slops a hearty helpin into a battered tin basin.

"Dried boar an sourberry," she says. She holds the basin out to me. "That’ll fill yer belly."

Pinch goes to grab it with magic. She hauls off an whacks his horn with the spoon. Whacks him
so hard he howls. She glares at him.

"That ain’t yers," she says.

An this one’s fer you, filly. She fills another eatin tin an hands it to Penny, who digs right in.
My squeezed belly’s so happy to be filled that I scarf down the lot double quick. When I’m finished, Miz Pinch gives me a chunk of flatbread. She gives a bit to Pen too.

"There you go," she says. "Mop them bowls clean. Cain’t go wastin good food. It’s nice to see young ’uns with good appetites, ain’t it, Golden?"

"To share our modest portion with fellow travelers on the dusty road of life," he says. "It’s just the thing, my dear! That’s what it’s all about!"

"Git every last drop," she says, "that’s the way. All done?"

"Thanks," I says. I hand our bowls back. I yawn. Peny rubs her eyes.

"You girls feelin sleepy?" says Miz Pinch.

My eyelids is feelin so heavy all of a sudden. I yawn agin. "Guess I … ain’t used … to … all this walkin …," I says.

"Moon," Penny yawns. "Why do I feel … so … tired …?" She curls up on deck an right away, she’s fast to sleep. Somethin ain’t right here. I git to my hoofs. I stagger a little.

"Whoa …" I shake my head, try to wake myself. My head’s so heavy, I cain’t hardly hold it up.

The Pinches is watchin me, a sly look in their eyes.

Then I know. "The food …," I says. "You put somethin in … the food." I go to magic my bow offa my back but my magic falters. My knees buckle unner me. I fall to the deck.

"Why’d you … do that fer?" I says.

My eyelids flutter.

Once.

Twi—

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m lyin on somethin hard. Wood. My neck’s stiff. My head’s poundin. It hurts somethin fierce. I lick my dry lips. My shoulders ache. An my legs. I groan. I lift my head, force open heavy eyes. Rough wooden bunks, cookin pots hangin on the rickety walls. Where … cain’t seem to remember … wait … the landboat … the Desert Swan … Golden Pinch … his wife. I must be inside the hut on the Desert Swan. I go to move my arms but … I cain’t. I give ’em a yank. Metal bites into me above my hoofs. My heart leaps. Starts to race. I’m wide awake.

I’m lyin on a bunk. I’m chained, wrists an ankles, to metal rings set into a girder. Penny Rose’s on the next bunk, jest a few paces away. She’s chained up too. This hut ain’t the flimsy thing it looks to be. It’s wood panels attached to a frame made from iron.
We’re prisoners. A red hot wave of fury rushes through me. Fury an fear. "Pinch!" I roar, pullin at my chains, I try usin my magic but find I cain't. "Pinch! Penny!" I says. "Penny! Wake up!"

Slowly she lifts her head, eyes heavy an dull. "Wake up, Penny! C’mon now! Penny!"

Her eyes widen when she sees me. She looks an sees her own hoofs tied, sees her legs tied too. Her face twists with fear, she starts to breathe fast. "Moon! What’s goin on? What’re they gonna do to us?"

Then I notice that the floor’s rumblin. The pots on the wall swing an sway. The Swan’s on the move. "Pinch!" I scream. The hut door flies open. Miz Pinch steps inside an closes it behind her. "Well well," she says. "Awake at last. Pleasant dreams, I hope."

"Let us go!" I yell. "What'd you do to my magic? You got no right to do this!"

"Magic stopper horn ring, an right ain’t got nuthin to do with it," she says. "In this world, you gotta take what you want." She shrugs. "We want you."

"Whaddya mean, you want me?"

She lifts the lid on a water bucket an dips a battered tin cup in it. "Yer young," she says, "an strong. A natural-born fighter from the looks of your cutie mark. I knew it right off. You’ll be perfect."

"Perfect fer what?" I says.

She straightens up. Look at me with her small dark red eyes, cold as stones. "Perfect," she says, "fer cage fightin."

My coat stands on end. I shiver.

"That’s right, girlie," she says. "You better be afeared. Cage fightin’s mean. Nasty. An it’s big business in Hopetown. You’ll do well fer us."

"I ain’t doin nuthin fer you," I says.

"You ain’t gotta choice," she says.

"You cain’t make me do nuthin," I says.

"Oh you’ll do ezzackly what I tell you," she says.

"I’ll see you in hell first, I says. Let us go! Pinch! Help! Pinch!"

"Save yer breath," she says. "He does what I tell him." She walks over with the cup of water. Bends down an holds my head up. "Drink it," she says. "Cain’t have you goin thirsty. Cage fighters gotta be in prime condition."

I stare at her while I drink. I hold the water in my mouth, then I spit it in her face. She don’t say naught. Jest stares at me a moment, the water runnin down her face. "You shouldn’t of done that," she says. She goes over to Penny.

"No!" I yell. "Don’t touch her!"

She slaps her across the face. Hard. Penny Rose cries out. She lifts her head an I see her lip’s bin split open. Blood fills her mouth, trickles down her chin. She starts to cry.

"Leave her alone!" I yell. "She’s a filly! She ain’t done nuthin to you!"

Miz Pinch comes over an kneels beside my bunk. Puts her face so close to mine that I can see every pock mark unner her ugly coat. So close I gag on her foul breath. It smells like meat left out in the sun. She smiles. "Every time you disobey me," she says, "every time you try to git away, I’m gonna hit yer little sister. Hit her or … cut or burn her. If I take the notion to, I might even break her wings off. But I ain’t gonna hit you. I ain’t ever gonna hit you, my beauty." She strokes her huge filthy hoof down my cheek. "An you know why?" she says. "Yer worth too much to me. Yer sister … she ain’t worth nuthin. Not to me anyways. I guess we’re gonna find out how much she’s worth to you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I feel it when the sails go down. The Swan gits slower an slower an at last it shudders to a halt. There’s a clunk as the anchor hits the ground. We must be stoppin fer the night. We bin watchin while Miz Pinch gutted an skinned a rock lizard an set it to stew on a bucket stove inside the hut, all the time hummin to herself. It’s like we ain’t even here. I ain’t opened my mouth since she said that about hurtin Penny. I bin tryin to think of a plan. Tryin to think what Sun would do if he was me. If he was here. An how much I wish it was him an me here together an not me an Pen. It wouldn’t be so bad then. I’d feel like maybe we had half a chance.

"All right, Penny?" I whisper.

She nods, her eyes big in her thin little face. Her lip’s swolled up where Miz Pinch hit her, the blood dried all dark an crusty against her yellow coat. I cain’t stand to think how I hit her too, back at the lake, an me her own flesh. She cried them first few moments after Miz Pinch whacked her, but she ain’t made a peep since.

"You was right about ’em," I says. "I’m sorry. I should of listened to you."

"That’s okay," she says.

"It ain’t okay," I says. "An it’s my fault she hit you. I shouldn’t of spit at her."

"I’m glad you did," Emmi says.

"That’s the spirit," I says. "I’ll git us outta here, Pen. I promise."

"Quit yer gabbin!" Miz Pinch yells at us. Then she yanks open the door an shrieks, "Grub up!" Golden Pinch slips inside the hut.

"You lyin bastard!" I says.

He’s all shifty-eyed an hangdog an don’t meet my eyes. Pretends he don’t hear me. "Smells capital, my dear love!" He rubs his hoofs together, all fake cheery, an sniffs the air. "Sheer ambrosia!"

"Shut up," she says. "Siddown." They shovel it down. When he’s finished, she nods our way. "You better feed ’em," she says.

"Me, my dear? Oh! Do you think that’s wise? You’d be much better at—" Her big hoof shoots out an she clips him on the ear. He scurries to fetch a couple of tin basins an fills ’em with stew. He goes to Penny first. He helps her to sit, scoops a spoonful an holds it out to her. She looks at me.

"It’s okay," I says. I smile at her an she gives me a little smile back. She eats eagerly, hungrily, hardly stoppin to chew.

"That’s a good girl," says Pinch. "That’s the way." He looks over his shoulder. Miz Pinch’s busy clearin up, hummin agin, not payin us no attention. He darts a look at me, whispers to both of us, "It’s best if you just do what she says, my dears. If you don’t, believe me, it will go hard for you."

"You gotta help us git away," I whisper. "Please."

"I can’t. I don’t dare. If you try to get away, she’ll kill you. That’s what she did to the last one. She sees everything. She—"

Miz Pinch notices what he’s up to. "What’s goin on over there? I hope you ain’t talkin to them girls, Golden."

"No! Of course not! Wouldn’t dream of it!"

"You better not be. An if I find out yer lyin to me, you know what’ll happen, don’t you? I’ll give you the burn. How’d you like that?" She smirks wikedly.

"I wouldn’t, my treasure," he says, quiverin.

"Then git on with the feedin an be quick about it."

He hurries to finish with Penny Rose, then moves over to me. "Whaddya mean, she killed the last one," I whisper. "What last one?" He don’t reply. I try to make him catch my eye, but he won’t, he jest stares down at the bowl. His face is shiny with sweat an the spoon trembles in his magic. Fer the first time, I notice jus above his hoofs is covered all over with ugly purple burn scars, mostly hidden by the long coat arms. Like somebody’s gone at ’em with a hot poker. So that’s what she means when she says she’ll give him the burn. That’s what she does when he crosses her. He ain’t gonna help us. He’s too terrified.

We’re on our own.

An I feel calm.

It seems crazy, seein how we’re both chained up an there ain’t a soul to help us, but I’m calm. Because now I see what I gotta do. An what I ain’t gotta do, which is waste time thinkin that anypony’s gonna help us. That somepony’s gonna come along an rescue us. I cain’t count on nobody but me. So what I gotta do now is watch. An learn. An think. An plan. I’m gonna make sure we stay alive, Penny an me. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll do what the hellhag tells me. But I’ll be watchin an waitin. An when the time comes, when it’s the right moment to make a move, I’ll be ready. I’ll know what to do an I’ll git us outta here.
Then we’ll go find Sun. I promised him I would. An I ain’t no quitter. No matter what.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miz Pinch comes towards me. She’s got a knife. She reaches out an I cower back aginst the wall. She grabs the back of my neck with her hoof. "I feed you, water you an then I slit yer throat," she says. "I know that’s what yer thinkin. Huh. No such luck." She grabs hold of my long braided mane an gives it a sharp twist, bringin my head down. I wince as pain shoots along my scalp. She saws at the top of the braid with her knife an pretty soon she’s cut it off. She holds it up. "That’s a fine tail of hair," she says. "Should fetch a good price." She proceeds to cut off my tail, real short, then she brings over a basin of hot water, a bar of soap an a straight razor.

Without sayin a word, she throws the water over my head, soakin me. She rubs the soap over my head. It runs down into my eyes, makes ’em sting an water. I don’t make a peep. I look at Penny, give her a little smile to tell her not to worry. Then I stare straight ahead. Once she’s got me soaped to her likin, she takes the razor an starts shavin off whats left of my mane. Clumps drop onto the floor with a wet plop. "You don’t want a mane fer the Cage," she says. "A smart fighter shaves their head. You don’t wanna give yer opponent nuthin to hang onto. Whatever you do, don’t let ’em git hold of yer ears or horn. They’ll rip'em offa yer head before you know it. Cage fightin ain’t ezzackly what you’d call clean."

Jest then, I notice what she’s got around her neck. My heartstone. The pink heartstone that my mother gave to Mercy. That Mercy gave to me. She must of gone through my stuff an took what she wanted. I hiss in a breath. My heart leaps into my throat. I wanna rip it from around her neck. Stamp her face to mush fer darin to even touch it. I twist myself outta her grasp.

"Gimme that back!" I says.

She jumps back, all startled. Then she sees what I’m lookin at. Stretches her mouth into a mean, thin lipped smile. "Oh," she says, "I see yer admirin my new necklace. I found it lyin around. Ain’t it amazin how careless people is with their valuables?"
I glare hate at her. Pull on my chains. "Careful now, beauty," she says. She lifts the razor in her hoof an looks over at Penny.

I slump back.

She reaches out. Grabs my mane. Then she goes on shavin my head till I ain’t got none left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They set Penny free an put her to work, scrubbin the floor, haulin water an washin the dishes an pots. All the dirty work they don’t wanna do theirselves. An jest to make sure I unnerstand the way things is, that she means what she says, Miz Pinch hits Penny when she catches her speakin to me or when she don’t move quick enough. Hits her over the head, pulls her wing feathers like she's gonna pull'em out. Once, she sticks out her hoof an trips Pen while she’s carryin a bucket of water an then she hits her when it spills. Pen jest picks herself up an keeps workin. She don’t make a sound. Neether do I.

We travel with the wind. Stoppin when it rests, movin when it blows. But it rests more’n it blows. I only git glimpses of daylight or moonlight when the Pinches come an go outta the cabin. I ain’t got a clue how many days have passed an nor does Penny. Feels like we’ve bin here ferever. Penny's face gits more pinched an pale. An she weeps silently at night. They feed me all the best food. They want me to be strong. I spend my time sittin on my bunk. I’m shackled an chained to the wall fer good measure.

Miz Pinch sets me free three times a day to stretch my legs, but only inside the hut. While I do, she holds a knife to Penny’s throat. But not jest any knife. Pa's knife. The one I keep inside my saddlebags. The one she took offa me. Miz Pinch smiles, tauntin me, provokin me. Go on, that smile says, jest try it. Try it an see what happens. She’d like that. To hurt Em with my knife.

So I’m free but I cain’t do a thing.

I don’t let my face show what I’m thinkin. Don’t let her see the hate that burns in my heart. The rage that gnaws at my gut. I keep my face blank. I watch her. I watch him. I wait fer the right moment.

If the wind blows us fair, tomorrow we’ll be in Hopetown.

Comments

[Dawn-Designs-Art]

2565054 Sharing muffins with a friend/wurm, is good!

[read read read some moar]

2565269first mr wiggles. win all the way.