• Published 17th May 2014
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How To Train Your Batpony - peter



Goose Down's path to becoming a Royal Guard is a strange and twisting one.

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Chapter 7 [edited]

How to Train Your Batpony Chapter 7

***

Objectively, Goose Down was fully aware that the life of a Royal Guard was not chock full of fighting Ninja ponies and rescuing the princess on a nightly basis from the forces of corruption who wished to ban ice-cream and all things that were good and sweet from the world.

The closest most guards⁽*⁾ came to anything like that was at the annual training camp Save the Princess Competition between the instructors and senior class.

According to Shadow, Princess Celestia was apparently rather fond of playing the damsel in distress for this. She was also, again according to Shadow, a bit of a ham. She would stand on the top of her fake tower, bravely waving a handkerchief to cheer on her brave rescuers as they faced off against the suitably garbed drill instructors and commanding officers. Afterward, she would help bandage up her would-be heroes, giving each wounded warrior a quick peck on the cheek as a reward.

More than one badly-battered trainee had been heard to exclaim, in a dreamy, spaced-out tone, “Best Day Ever.”


(*) There was a rumor that once a month, the guards had a ‘friendly competition’ with the Neighpon ambassador’s guards, where the same game was played out with a bit more serious effort. These rumors were denied by every guard, including those who wound up in the infirmary at the end of the month.


So, Goose knew that the likelihood of her having to fight off ravening gryphon hordes was pretty much nonexistent. That didn’t, however, stop her from pretending it was imminent. Imagining a ninja behind every tree and under every rock helped keep her awake. Or, it had for the first four hours.

Lifting a hoof, Goose covered her mouth as she yawned so wide her jaws creaked. She lifted bleary eyes upward, toward the tree canopy overhead, hoping her brother had returned from flying patrol.

She felt only a slight twinge of panic as raised her eyes toward the heavens above. As per Princess Luna’s instructions she had worked very hard to convince her mind that the leafy canopy overhead was a solid ceiling, despite her acute night vision being able to see the little bits of starry sky that shone through the small holes. Those were just decorative touches, a bit of glitter glued in place. Provided she was preoccupied with other tasks, the self-delusion had proved fairly effective this evening.

But, that might have only been because she was having so much trouble keeping her eyes open.

The difficulty was that while Goose was as nocturnal as any other member of her family, she was not used to enforced inactivity. It was one reason she’d spent her nights at the Apple home cleaning anything that didn’t move. And a few things that started to move after she began scrubbed them. That, and her sense of obligation to them for putting her up.

Standing guard on the ground outside Fluttershy’s house offered little in the way of mental or physical stimulation. Not even the once every half hour trot around the property helped.

Knowing that her brother, Shadow, was lying stretched out on a heavy branch over her head had helped, even if she had to maintain operational silence. Otherwise known as, Let Sleeping Princesses Slumber, or LSPS, for short. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she couldn’t cut it. But, once he’d flown off to do over-watch of not just Fluttershy’s home, but also of Sweet Apple Acres, she’d been left all alone with only herself for company.

And she was discovering that she made lousy company.

Goose wished she could fly up into the branches of the tree like her brother had while he was here. Keeping her balance and avoiding the overly friendly bats would have at least helped keep her awake, but being that high up, and the resulting reduction of the overhead cover was too likely to lead to a panic attack on her part. There was a limit to how far she could push her imagination. She wouldn’t do Fluttershy or anypony else much good if she was a quivering lump of pony flesh clinging to a high branch until somepony called the Volunteer Pegasus Rescue Squad to come and extract her.

Giving another jaw-wrenching yawn, Goose looked around for something that would keep her awake, but would not distract her from her duties. She patted the top of her hat to make sure it was sitting firmly on her head and took another stroll around the house to get her blood pumping.

Goose was walking alongside the chicken yard fence when a rustling in the grass caused her ears to flick in that direction, but that was her only reaction. Growing up with practical joke inclined brothers had ingrained the reflex in her to keep her eyes and head turned away from the sound, so as to not give away that she’d heard anything. The better to dodge the coming attack. Not that she had to worry about water balloons or blasts from an air-horn in this case. It was likely just a rabbit or badger, nothing threatening. That didn’t mean she couldn’t imagine it was something more interesting. Anything to relieve the boredom of her lonely night watch.

The noise came again, a few feet to the left of where it had come from before. Was it pirates? No, too far from the main river. They’d never get their ship up the tiny creek that ran by Fluttershy’s house.


It was a sad fact that Goose’s imagination was a little atrophied. She needed at least some foundation for her rare flights of fancy, unlike Prince Jake and his companion Pipsqueak, who could turn a four-foot length of rope into a venomous pony-eating python.


So, not a pirate. Ninja? No, that was silly. Oh, she knew. It was a dastardly reporter, intent on revealing Gilda’s injuries to the world, no matter what dire consequences such a revelation would cause. It was Goose’s sworn duty to make sure he never got the chance to cause all-out tribal warfare between the Empire and Equestria. The fate of the world rested on her young shoulders, but she was up for the task.

Goose stood up straight and threw out her chest while squinting her eyes shut to give herself a suitably dark and brooding look. When she discovered this cut her night vision down to almost nothing, she opened them up again, which caused her to look as wide-eyed as a foal in a candy store. Every muscle quivering, Goose focused all her thoughts on her ears, listening for the next incriminating noise.

“Pssst, Goose.” a voice hissed from under a bush only a single step away. The sudden injection of reality into Goose’s nightdream shocked her into a flurry of uncoordinated action. Her wings stretched out and gave a powerful downward sweep that lifted her off the ground and away from the talking bush. Her wing spread out wide on either side of her, blocking out a large section of the night sky as she was held between the huge dragon wings, her cat-like eyes glowing yellow in the dark.

It would have been an awesomely dramatic sight, if not for the chicken coop fence.

The back of Goose’s rear hooves caught on the top bar of the fence and flipped her head over tail into the chicken yard. Her head hit the ground hard enough to make her see stars and dislodge her hat. The domed shaped head-gear popped off her head and rolled away into the darkness, leaving Goose looking straight up into a clear starry sky with miles and miles of air between her and those impossibly distant gleaming dots.

Goose felt the familiar crushing pressure around her heart that marked an oncoming panic attack. She squeezed her eyes shut and rolled over onto her belly, fighting the urge to wrap her wings around her and huddle inside the protective shell of darkness. Inside her chest, her heart beat like a trip-hammer. The terrified nocturne crouched in the dirt, breathing slow and deeply while doing her best to think calming thoughts, like being shut up inside the small closet under the stairs at home. The one with barely enough room to stand, and too small to turn around in unless you stepped out of it.

“Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry, Goose. I didn’t mean to startle you,” a whispered voice came from a little distance away, mixed with the sound of restless chickens stirring in their coop, no doubt woken from a deep sleep by Goose’s clumsy acrobatics.

During her pratfall, but before her hat came off, Goose had recognized the voice that had startled her so badly. “Is that you, Curry Comb?” Goose asked from between clenched teeth, fighting to keep her breathing slow and steady.

Curry’s voice came back just as soft. “Yeah. I’m going to climb through the fence and get your hat. Don’t kick me or nothing if you feel a touch. Okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Don’t! Thank me, that is. I was dumb. I know better than to sneak up on a pony and surprise her. Just lucky you didn’t try to stomp me into the ground,” Curry added, sounding even more chagrined than Goose was currently feeling.

Despite the possibility of an incipient, panic attack, Goose found herself smiling, just a little, at the rueful tone in Curry’s voice. As she did, the tight bands around her heart eased a little bit. She essayed a small, slightly strangled, laugh, and said, “I was supposed to be on guard duty. You shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on me if I was doing my job properly, instead of playing evil reporters, to pass the time.”

“Well, maybe I’m really good at being sneaky,” Curry answered, a bit defensively given her apology of a moment before. “Besides, evil reporters is a great game. Pipsqueak promised I could be one next time.”

Goose could not help but smile a bit broader, which chased away the last of her panic.

“Okay, I’m going to set your hat on your head now,” Curry said in a soothing tone.

Goose let out a sigh of relief as she felt the familiar pressure of her security hat pressing against her ears until she twitched them into the correct holes.

A gentle touch stroked down the top of her neck in a manner that would normally be highly inappropriate from anypony who was not a very close friend or family. Despite that, Goose leaned into the pressure, as Curry’s fingers seemed to magically ease the tension in her neck and shoulders. The small snipe didn’t stop there but carefully ran her hands down each of Goose’s legs also.

There was no problem while Curry was focusing on Goose’s front legs, but when she dug her fingers into the heavy thigh muscles at the top of Goose’s back legs she brushed against the gland that produced the thick oil pegasi and nocturnes used for preening. Goose had always been a bit ticklish there. She couldn’t abide anypony besides herself touched that spot without breaking into helpless giggles. So much so that when getting help preening those hard to reach spots her mother or some other female relative usually relied on their own naturally produced oil instead. When Curry’s finger’s brushed that area Goose could not help but jump a little and shift away from the snipe with a startled, and explosive, ‘HA, ha!’

“Suu, suu, suu,” Curry crooned. “Take it, easy girl. Just making sure nothing is broken or sprain…” Curry trailed off, and then a moment later let out an exasperated, “Dang. I did it again. I’m sorry, Goose. It’s just when I get worried… Well… I sort of forget I don’t have to treat ponies like critters anymore. Did you hurt anything when you fell over the fence?”

Blushing a little, at her involuntary reaction to Curry’s touch, Goose mumbled, “Only my pride. Please don’t tell anypony.”

Meaning, please don’t tell anypony that the big bad nocturne was ticklish. And, not, don’t tell anypony I fell head over plot, which was the way Curry translated the request.

“I’d never do that,” Curry said in a tone of voice that implied she was deeply offended Goose would even think she’d carry tales.

The reaction flustered Goose. Such a request on her part had usually resulted in the question, “What’s in it for me?” from her sisters and female cousins. She wasn’t quite sure how to deal with such wholehearted compliance. Her uncertainty didn’t stop a warm feeling of affection from flowering in her chest, however.

Goose wasn’t given much time to dwell on the matter because Curry reached out a tentative hand toward Goose’s side. “Are you sure you didn’t hurt one of your wings? I’ll be happy to check for anything torn or skinned,” the little snipe spoke in such a wistful tone that Goose found herself turning to stare at the girl in surprise. The snipe was gazing longingly at Goose’s wing, her hand hovering just above it. It wasn’t the first time Goose had seen such a look directed at her wings, but in this case, she found it very unlikely that Curry was wishing she could have a pair like that. Goose flushed a bit as she realized Curry wanted to stroke her wings as if she were some sort of pet.

She should have felt indignant at the idea, but instead, Goose felt phantom tingles from her neck where Curry had stroked her earlier, and she found herself staring at the snipe’s fingers with almost as much longing as Curry was showing in her eyes.

Her over-sized wings were far too difficult for her to preen and groom on her own. The soft skin tended to crumble when she folded it in close enough to get at it with her teeth and lips. It hadn’t been a problem while she had been living at home. There had always been lots of ponies willing to lend a hoof and had never been shy about asking for aid. It was natural for family members to help with those hard to reach spots.

At the palace, Laminia had overridden Goose’s shy protest that she’d didn’t really need any help the first time she’d spent the night, and had thoroughly groomed every square inch of the membrane before allowing her husband Pumpernickel into the room.

Unfortunately, Goose hadn’t been properly groomed since she’d come to Ponyville. She’d been too shy to ask, and even if she had, the Apples were farm pony and would have had no idea where to start.

The simple embarrassing truth was, she itched, and she just knew that she was flaking. She’d managed to suppress the niggling discomfort for the last day or so, but now that Curry’s request had started her thinking about it, the niggling little itch from the day before had moved from slightly uncomfortable, to downright annoying, and if nothing was done soon, it would go to ‘grabbingastickandscratchinglikeaninsanepony,’ even though that was a very bad idea. At this point, she’d have accepted help from one of the bats fluttering around in the tree.

“You can touch it if you want. You won’t hurt me,” Goose said, in what she hoped was a nonchalant, I don’t care if you do or not, tone. Then, she hesitantly added, “I don’t think I damaged them when I fell. But I do have some itchy spots. Maybe you could look at them for me?”

Curry’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling as she reached out her hand toward the closest wing.

It was really amazing how expressive the small female’s strange little face was, Goose thought, as she carefully unfurled the wing toward Curry. As the large dragonwing temporarily blocked Curry from view, Goose reminded herself to be very careful. Curry was tiny, and a careless movement on the nocturne's part could fling the little princess across the chicken run, or break one of those extremely thin and bony limbs. Not an auspicious action for a would be royal guard.

Really, they needed to feed the poor thing more. When Goose had seen her in the big bath at the tent she’d looked like a famine victim, all skin and bones. You could even see her ribs, for Luna’s sake.

“Oh, wow. It’s so soft,” Curry cooed as her fingers brushed across the flight membrane. “And so beautiful.”

Goose flushed a bit at the compliment. She was more than slightly self-conscious about her oversized endowment and tended to avoid doing anything that would draw attention to them if she could help it. The reaction from other pegasus, night and day, tended to make her reinforce her discomfort. The other night in the tent was the first time in a long time that she had fully extended her wings in company. And, that had only been for a few seconds.

“Just like Toothless,” Curry murmured as she ran her palm lovingly across the flexible membrane.

“You’ve said that before. Who’s Toothless?” Goose asked.

The hand that was gently stroking her wing paused for a moment and Goose saw Curry’s face flush a bit. “He’s a dragon. Only not really. He’s a made-up Dragon. In a movie I liked. He broke his tail fin and couldn’t fly. But his friend Hiccup made him an artificial tail fin and a saddle. As long as Hiccup rode him and worked the tail with levers, Toothless could fly. He had wings just like you.”

“A movie? I think I’ve heard of those from my brothers. I’ve never been to one. Moving shadow pictures?”

Curry frowned, “I guess. I don’t really know how they work. I just really liked the story. I liked Toothless. Sometimes I imagined Jake had wings like Toothless and we’d fly high into the sky and visit the moon and Mars and lots of other places. I guess that sounds pretty silly.”

Thinking of all the times she’d dreamed of regaining the sky, and how often those dreams had turned into night terrors, Goose shook her head. “No. I don’t think it’s silly at all.”

Just then Curry’s randomly stroking fingers hit a particularly itchy spot, and Goose lost the thread of the conversation, “Oooohhhh! Oh, oh, yeah, right there! Harder. Faster. Don’t stop! That feels soooo, good!”

Curry let out a soft laugh as she used the tips of both fingers to massage the spot that had been troubling Goose so much, drawing a moan of pleasure from the night pony. “Yeah, I can feel it. It’s patchy and rough. Dang, sure is nice being able to ask a hoss straight out what’s bothering them. Someone should make a movie about that. Imagine what a great vet you could be if you could speak to the animals. Anyway, do you need some ointment rubbed into it? Maybe mom has some?”

“No need,” Goose assured Curry as she twisted her head and body around to where she could gather up some preening oil from the uropygial gland located at the base of her tail. There was an inconspicuous little tuft of fur there that wicked the leaking oil away from the gland and made it easy for Goose to smear some over her lips. Moving her head and wing, she tried to nibble and rub the oil into the patch Curry had located. As usual, bringing that particular section of wing close enough to reach with her mouth caused the flight membrane to fold over onto itself, making it hard to get at the itchy patch. “Dang, I can’t get it. Could you try, Curry?”

“Okay, stretch your wing all the way out. Yeah, like that. Now, where did you get that oil from? Don’t tell me it came out of your butt? That would be gross.”

“No, there should be a little tuft of oily fur just at the base of my tail. If you rub it with your fingers the oil should stick to them.”

Curry grimaced but did as the nocturne suggested, running her fingers around the base of Goose’s tail, while the small pony did her best not to break out in uncontrolled giggles at the ticklish sensation. “Okay, this must be it,” Curry said as she tugged on the tuft of oily fur, dragging it between her fingers.

“You can tug harder than that. The tugging helps promote more oil flow. Don’t worry about hurting--- Ow! Okay, maybe not quite that hard,” Goose said in a voice that was a little bit strained.

“Sorry. I think I’ve got enough for now,” Curry said and used one of her longer fingers to locate the area of patchy skin on Goose’s wing. The small girl then rubbed the spot with all her fingers, transferring a load of the thick oil they had gathered to the dry flaking spot.

Goose let out a soft moan of relief, while her entire body seemed to shiver in delight. “Thank you. That was starting to drive me crazy,” she purred as Curry massaged the oil deeply into her wing membrane.

“Am I going to have to cover all of your wings with this?” Curry asked.

“Only where the membrane has dried out. It has glands of its own, but parts of it can dry out from being folded. I’ve been neglecting my grooming lately. I didn’t feel right asking Applejack or Granny Smith to help me.”

“What about Jake?”

Goose felt like her face had lit on fire. “What? No! Jake’s a stallion. You don’t let a stallion preen you unless he’s your mate.”

“But won’t he need to know how to do this stuff?”

Her cheeks still burning, Goose said, “I’ll mention it to my brother. Maybe he could get one of the day pegasi in the guard to show Prince Jake how to preen his feathers properly.”

“I will be more than happy to instruct Prince Jake, and to enlist the aid of friends more familiar with feathers,” a voice said from the darkness.

“Acckk,” Goose squeaked in a high pitched tone. “Big brother. I didn’t hear you come back.”

“Obviously,” Shadow said dryly as he stepped out of the darkness.

The older nocturne looked over at Curry, his expression showing nothing at all as he greeted her in his best on duty tone, “Princess Moonlight Dancing On Water, I was under the impression that you were to stay at the town library with Twilight Sparkle for the duration of Princess Gilda’s stay.” The small girl flinched, and she looked away, a hoof caught in the cookie jar expression on her face.

Goose felt a wash of embarrassment, and she gave thanks that the brim of her hat let her avoid her big brother’s judgmental gaze. She’d totally forgotten that Curry was not suppose to be here. At the same time, she felt a bit guilty for being glad that for the moment the focus of her brother’s ire seemed to be on Curry, and not her.

“I’m not leaving,” Curry muttered. “I’ll sleep with the hens if I have to.”

Any response Shadow might have made was interrupted by the sound of Fluttershy’s door slamming open, and Rainbow Dash streaking out into the yard with a baseball bat held firmly between her teeth. “Who’s out here?” she demanded around her mouthful of wood.

Fluttershy poked her head out the door and said in a faint voice. “Oh. Do be careful, Rainbow Dash. We don’t know who it is. It might just be some poor little critter who needs help.”

“Or it might be somepony after Gilda,” Rainbow Dash said over her shoulder. “You stay in the house while I find out which it is.”

Goose pulled the wing she’d extended for Curry to look at back up against her body and looked toward her brother, expecting that he would handle this. To her shock, he wasn’t to be seen.

“Hey, where did your brother go?” Curry asked from where she was crouching behind Goose.

While the two girls were busy looking for the vanished stallion, Rainbow Dash had gotten close enough to make them out at least one of them in the dark. “Goose Down? Is that you? How come you’re making so much noise?”

Goose wanted to tuck her head under a wing in shame. Only Curry was already there, pressed up under the wing on the opposite side of Goose from Rainbow Dash. “Don’t tell mom I’m here,” she said in an urgent whisper.

“I can’t do that, Curry!” Goose hissed at the girl cowering under her wing, shocked at the idea of lying to a parental figure, and in particular, to a pony, she was supposed to be guarding.

A second later, Goose remembered that the funny-looking creature huddled under her wing wasn’t just an excellent wing groomer, but a princess and Goose had just refused a direct order from her. "Curry isn't here!" she blurted out. “She's... somewhere else."

“Curry? Did you say, Curry?” Fluttershy's voice was nearly cracking with concern and worry, driving a little spike of anguish into Goose's heart. “Is Curry here with you, Miss Goose?”

Faced with a direct question from Curry’s mother, Goose froze up. Who took precedence? Fluttershy wasn’t royalty, but she was the adoptive mother of the princess. She was saved from having to decide by Rainbow Dash.

“Peekaboo,” the multi-chromatic pegasus piped cheerfully as she peeked under Goose’s wing. The small nocturne felt a brief tug on her front leg a moment before Rainbow Dash dragged her head back out, her teeth firmly gripping Curry’s collar. The small girl hung limp and unresisting, a resigned look on her face. Goose was a little surprised. She’d have expected a bit more struggling on the little snipe’s part. When she felt a presence and looked up to see Fluttershy standing there, a disappointed look in her face, she understood. The yellow pegasus wasn’t even looking at her, and Goose still felt an overwhelming urge to go and stand in a corner to think over what she’d done wrong.

“Sorry, mom,” Curry said, her eyes downcast as she scuffed at the dirt with one dangling toe.

“Good for you,” Rainbow Dash mumbled around her mouthful of cloth. “Now let's go into the house and talk about this.”

Fluttering her wings, Rainbow Dash lifted off the ground, and carried Curry across the yard and into the house before Fluttershy could do more than stammer out a few, “But, but, buts,” as she dashed after her daughter and best friend.

With her big brother vanished, Goose had to make up her mind quickly. She was supposed to keep watch outside the house, but, the princess was inside, with the other princess, the one who ate raw meat. She was pretty sure her first duty was to keep the one princess from eating the other princess.

If nothing else, Goose could find a corner to stand in as she deserved for lying to a mother.

***

Inside the house, Goose found Fluttershy with Curry wrapped protectively in her wings while she glared at a rather smug Rainbow Dash. On the opposite side of the room, the gryphon, Princess Gilda, had lifted her head and was blinking at everypony with sleep-glazed eyes.

Gilda shifted painfully to look at Goose in the doorway, and let out a small curse, accompanied by a muffled wince. One of her front claws reached to the heavy collar circling her neck and tugged at it weakly.

“No. You have to be more careful,” Fluttershy cried out. “You need to let the ligaments heal. You badly overstretched them.”

I badly overstretched them?” Gilda cried out in a hoarse tone, that broke off at the end with a rough cough. Using a more moderate tone, she continued, “You had more than a little to do with it!”

“Your own fault for messing with my mom,” Curry shouted, pulling herself free from Fluttershy’s feathers and taking a step toward Gilda, only to be snagged back into a wing hug.

“No, no, Curry. You mustn’t tease somepony who is helpless,” Fluttershy admonished her.

Goose had never heard that Gryphons could spontaneously explode, but considering the way princess Gilda’s feathers and fur suddenly fluffed out, making her look twice her normal size, she half-way expected to witness it in the next few seconds.

“Helpless,” Gilda sputtered, rising up from her bedding. The pain this caused her was clear on her face, but she showed no other sign of it as she limped toward Fluttershy. “I’ll show you helpless.”

Fluttershy gave a little ‘eep’ of distress and gathered Curry to her as she retreated into a corner.

While Goose had been very reluctant to get anywhere near a parent/child conflict, she was far more at ease dealing with an angry gryphon. Not because she didn’t consider it hazardous and likely to get her messed up, but because the choice was an absolute one with no room for doubt. She was a Royal Guard. Protecting ponies from rampaging gryphons was in the job description.

Goose bravely stepped in front of the advancing Gilda, which gave her an up-close look at Gilda’s expression. Goose blanched, her grey hide going pale.

Now that she thought of it there was no specific mention of rampaging gryphons in the guard’s training manual. And, if you came down to it, she was actually only a maid, not officially a guard, yet. Despite her second thoughts and the way her knees were knocking together, Goose made no move to get out of the way of the much bigger gryphon. Instead, she plastered what she hoped was a determined expression on her face and snapped her wings out to their full extension in the hope of looking a lot bigger than she was.

Unfortunately, Goose’s move forced Rainbow Dash, who had been moving toward Gilda, to flatten herself against the floor to keep from being smacked in the face. On the plus side, it did stop Gilda. The gryphon actually stumbled before coming to a halt, her eyes sweeping from one membranous wingtip all the considerable way to the other, with frequent pauses as if to check the reality of her obstruction. Gilda extended her own good wing and twisted her body just enough to take a look at how far the tip extended. She turned back to Goose, and the raw anger on her face had faded a little, only to be replaced by a rather sour look that Goose had received far too often from pegasus mares. She’d never considered that a female Gryphon might have the same reaction, but there was no mistaking that expression.

“Who's your plastic surgeon, little mare?" Gilda asked in a snarky tone.

Goose grimaced, her eyes narrowing. Years of keeping her head down, and her mouth shut had bottled up a lot of anger inside, and hearing the same familiar taunt from somepony who wasn’t even a pony proved to be the final straw. The terror she’d been feeling up till that moment was transformed into a misplaced rage at the injured gryphon in front of her.

“I was born this way, okay,” Goose snapped at Gilda, advancing on the gryphon, uncaring of the difference in their stature and quantity of natural weapons. The small nocturne, fairly quivering with righteous indignation, pushed her nose right up against Gilda’s beak and stared her straight in the eye. “You think I like being whistled at by louts everywhere I go? Hearing them make lewd comments behind my back?” Goose pushed forward, and Gilda actually took a step back, blinking in surprise. “Do you think I like having every pegasus mare that sees me assuming I’m some sort of a slut, just because I have these?” Goose extended her wings again, and flapped them forward, blasting a gust of air right in Gilda’s face, causing the gryphon to blink and stumble backward.

A cry of pain jolted out of Gilda, and Goose’s anger dissipated in a wash of guilt and shame. After enduring years of teasing and taunting, who did she choose to blow up at? A wounded gryphon.

A loud shout in an unfamiliar voice roared out inches from Goose’s ear. “Stop this right this instant!” Jerking to the side in surprise, Goose saw Fluttershy standing where the strange voice was coming from. Goose hadn’t had much contact with the shy pegasus, but what she did have caused her to feel shocked at Fluttershy’s body posture and expression, and at the realization that the You-Will-Obey, voice had come from the normally soft-spoken pegasus.

Fluttershy gave Goose a quelling look that had her folding her wings and hanging her head in shame. She then turned her attention on the Gryphon. “Gilda, please get back into your bed right this instant. I promised Mr. Pumpernickel that I would look after you. How can I do that if you keep hurting yourself?”

To Goose’s amazement, the gryphon meekly allowed herself to be herded back into the nest like bed on the floor. Her reaction was nothing compared to Fluttershy’s reaction when she discovered that Curry had somehow gotten next to Gilda and was doing what she could to help ease the wounded creature down into her bed.

“Curry! What are you doing?” Fluttershy cried out, the steel bleeding out of her voice and leaving nothing but fluffy concern.

“Helping,” Curry said in a firm voice that belied the look of trepidation on her face. “She’s not going to hurt me. Are you Miss Gilda?”

“I’m not going to catch something nasty from you, am I?” Gilda croaked out.

“Only if I throw it at you,” Curry said in a belligerent tone as she stared Gilda straight in the eye.

“Then we’re fine,” Gilda said, settling into her bed with ill grace. She gave Fluttershy a look that mixed anger with puzzlement. “Okay, I’m nesting. You can quit hovering,” she said.

While Gilda’s attention was on Fluttershy, Curry quickly stuck out her hand and lightly ran her fingers over the top of the griffin’s head, drawing a startled squeak from Gilda as she ducked her head and gave the small snipe a surprised look. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry. Your feathers just looked so soft that I wanted to see what they felt like. Did I hurt you?”

“Hurt me?” Gilda snorted. “As if.”

“You should let Curry work her magic on you. Those finger things of hers give the greatest neck rubs,” Rainbow Dash told Gilda. “And what she can do in ten minutes with stiff wing muscles is as good as a day at the spa.”

“No, absolutely not. Curry is not going to groom Gilda. She could get hurt,” Fluttershy said firmly, literally putting her hoof down hard for empathize.

“Aw, come on, mom. You heard her. She’s not going to hurt me. You don’t think she’s a liar, do you?”

“No. I’d never call anypony that,” a flustered Fluttershy stammered.

“Yeah, mom,” Rainbow Dash said in a teasing tone. “Besides, I’m here. I’ll keep Gilda in line.”

“You and what army?” Gilda growled at Rainbow Dash, but there was no heat in her tone.

“Like I need an army to handle you,” Dash scoffed. “And I’ll prove it, just as soon as you quit laying around like a frog on a log and get yourself better.”

“Well, I’m not--” Fluttershy started to say, only to be cut off by Curry before she could voice her concern.

“That’s great, mom. I promise I won’t make you worry,” Curry interrupted. She turned to Gilda and asked,” So, how about I brush out your tangles?” Gilda opened her beak, but before she could make a reply, Curry dashed off, shouting over her shoulder, “Great. I’ll go get my brushes.”

“Now wait for a--” This time it was Gilda's turn to try and voice a protest, only to be cut off.

“I’ll just go get you something for the pain,” Fluttershy said, uncharacteristically interrupting the gryphon. She was facing away from Gilda and Rainbow Dash when she spoke, and Goose was likely the only one who noticed the look of guilt that flashed across the pegasus’ face.

~ ~ * ~ ~

Gilda felt like her muscles had melted as she lay limp in her bedding. Even thinking about moving was more work than it was worth. As Rainbow Dash had said, Curry’s fingers really were magic. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this loose and relaxed.

The medication Fluttershy had given her had worked wonders as well, She could barely feel her various aches and pains. It was certainly more effective than the bitter willow bark tea Fluttershy had been giving her up till now.

Lolling her head to the side, and not even caring that she likely looked like a total dweeb, Gilda gazed at Rainbow Dash through the fog that seemed to have filled up the room.

The pegasus was sprawled out on a low floating cloud that she’d pushed indoors sometime during Gilda’s grooming, a look of amusement on her face. It was a good two minutes before Gilda picked up on the snarky expression the pegasus was wearing. “Go ahead, you know you want to say it,” she told her former BFF sleepily.

“What would that be?” Rainbow asked.

“You know. I told you so,” Gilda said while shifting slightly and letting out a wide yawn that only hurt her neck a little bit.

“Now would I do that?” Rainbow asked, her eyes sparkling.

“In a wing-flap,” Gilda said, but with no heat in her tone.

“Well, if you insist.” Lifting her nose up, Rainbow adjusted her wings and drew one hoof across her chest so that she looked like a pompous politician, and stated in her most authoritative voice, “I told you so.”

For a moment Gilda didn’t react, and then Rainbow’s words percolated through her mind fog causing her to frown. “Told me so what?” Gilda asked.

“Damn, that must have been some good stuff, Fluttershy gave you,” Rainbow said. “How are you feeling?”

“Feeling? Feeling wonderful,” Gilda said dreamily. “The freak — oops. Sorry. Can’t go being mean and nasty. That Curry is really good with those finger, claw, — things. Just like you said.”

“Told you so.”

“Did you? Yeah, you did. Well, you were right. Right about a lot of things.”

“Of course. I’m awesome. I’m always right.”

“You think I’m a liar?” Gilda said out of nowhere.

“What? Of course not. Well, not unless you were trying to pull a prank, or get out of trouble, or get something you really wanted…” Rainbow trailed off, realizing she wasn’t really helping.

“I was afraid of that,” Gilda sighed. She lay still, blinking her eyes every few minutes, trying to clear away the fog that kept rolling in whenever she tried to think.

“Why did you ask,” Rainbow finally asked when it became clear the gryphon wasn’t going to continue.

“Ask what?”

“Arrrrh. I swear you’re doing this on purpose. Why did you ask if I thought you were a liar?”

“Oh. Because I wanted to tell you I was sorry. But I won’t, because you won’t believe me,” Gilda said, her tone becoming melancholy. A tear leaked out of the corner of one eye and ran down her cheek.

“Fluttershy!” Rainbow Dash called out in sudden panic.

Fluttershy had been in the cooking area, preparing breakfast when Rainbow Dash yelled. She dropped everything, making a loud clatter, and flew across to her friend. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

“Something’s wrong with Gilda,” Rainbow Dash said frantically, gesturing at the gryphon, who now had tears streaming from both her eyes. “She’s leaking. I didn’t know gryphons could, or would, or something. I think she’s having a bad reaction to the medicine you gave her.”

“Oh, dear. Are you in pain, Gilda?” Fluttershy asked as she hovered just out of beak range.

“My heart hurts,” Gilda said in a melancholy tone. “Rainbow Dash hates me, and my heart hurts.”

“Hey, I don’t hate you.”

“Yes, you do. You think I’m a horrible gryphon. And, you want to know something? I’ll tell you a secret if you want to know something.”

Rainbow Dash waited, until, once again, it became obvious that Gilda wasn’t going to say anything else. “Man, this is really freaking me out,” she muttered, before asking in a louder voice. “What’s the secret?”

“We are horrible. No no, don’t say we aren’t. It, it is, perfectly true, gryphons are horrible creatures. I always thought you, you were so cool that you were almost as good as a gryphon. Only, I… I was wrong. You, you’re way too cool to be a gryphon, because gryphons are horrible, horrible. We’re just horrible.” Gilda paused for a moment, her face screwed up in though, and then continued. “Did I say we're horrible?”

“You might have mentioned it," Rainbow said in a carefully controlled voice. She sent a helpless look toward Fluttershy, trying to transmit her worry via eyes only.

“I, I, thought I did. You want to know another…” Gilda blanked for a moment, and then once she found the word, shouted out, “Secret.”

“Ooookay. If you want.”

“I was coming to apologize to the marshmallow,” Gilda said, gesturing in a wide arc with her healthy wing, taking in the whole side of the room Fluttershy was hovering in.

“Only, only, I got mad, and excited, because she ran away…” Gilda’s unfocused eyes fell on Rainbow Dash, and she gave the pegasus a broad silly grin. “I used to love to chase you, remember? When you ran away from me? I never flew so fast as when I was trying to grab that pretty tail of yours.”

Rainbow Dash turned an interesting shade of scarlet.

Fluttershy moved in close and slowly waved a wing tip in front of Gilda’s eyes. The gryphon’s head moved in time with the gesture, her focus on the object just inches in front of her face. “Pretty,” she murmured.

Fluttershy continued to move her wing back and forth, moving it up and down in a wavy pattern as she did so. Gilda followed it in a mesmerized fashion until her head came to rest on the lip of her bed.

“Tired. Going to sleep now,” Gilda said, her eyes closing. A moment later she started to snore.

“What the buck!” Rainbow Dash swore, moderating her tone till the last word was just a whisper lest she wake up Gilda. “Fluttershy, what’s wrong with her? Is she going to be okay?”

Fluttershy dipped her head, allowing her mane to fall over her face. “I think I overestimated her weight and may have given her a bigger dose than I should have, ” she said in a whisper. Then, clearly afraid that she might have worried Rainbow Dash, she lifted her head and reassuringly. “Don’t worry. You can’t overdose on cannabis. But, I’m afraid she’s going to be very hungry when she wakes up.”

“You drugged Gilda with happy weed?” Rainbow asked incredulously.

“I gave her some medicine to help relax her,” Fluttershy corrected her friend defensively, but with heavy guilt undertones.

Rainbow took a deep breath. “Okay. I can sort of understand why you would do that,” she said while giving Fluttershy a look of censor. “But, Fluttershy, just because you were worried about Curry, you can’t go drugging Gilda to the gills. What if she’d tried to fly with that broken wing?”

“I know. It was bad of me. I’m sorry. Please, forgive me,” Fluttershy said, giving Rainbow Dash a pleading look.

The pegasus took yet another deep breath, and then gave her friend a quick hug. “At least one good thing came out of this. We found out she was coming to apologize to you.”

Fluttershy’s expression turned sorrowful. “It’s all my fault. If only I’d been braver.”

“Hey, you’re plenty brave when you need to be,” Rainbow Dash told her sternly. Her expression shifted to a mixture of worry, with maybe just a faint touch of hope, as she turned to look at Gilda. “How much of this do you think she’ll remember?”

“It's hard to say. Some ponies don't remember anything, others recall bits and pieces, and some everything.”

Rainbow Dash gave a sigh, her eyes holding more than a hint of sadness as she stared at the sleeping gryphon.

Fluttershy followed her gaze. Her own eyes softened⁽*⁾, and she added, “You never know. Gilda might be the type that remembers everything. Don’t give up hope.”


(*) With Fluttershy it was a bit hard to tell, her normal expression was already so soft you are talking percentages here.


Out in the yard, the early morning sun was just chasing the shadows away. Goose was kneeling in the shade of the house, though she still needed her sunglasses despite that, and her hat. Her left wing was spread out as far as it would go, with a pair of small snipe feet stuck out from under one edge. A moving dimple on the top of Goose’s wing marked the spot where the little girl was rubbing oil into the underside of the membrane as if she were changing the oil on Old Ben’s 69 Chevy.

While Curry worked on one wing, Goose focused on the other. Having collected more oil from the gland under her tail, she was working it into any flaky spot she could reach.

“Hey, I need more butt oil,” Curry called out, her voice muffled by the broad wing hovering over top of her.

Goose winced at Curry’s choice of words, but at the same time felt a certain amount of comfort at hearing them. Curry had the same sense of humor as her youngest older brothers; very low only started to describe it. It was almost homey being teased like that. Her brother's had also taught her how to deal with their teasing. Knowing that complaining would only encourage them, and now Curry, Goose choose to take the high road and ignore it.

“Just a moment,” Goose said. She stretched around to gather some oil, while at the same time furling the wing that hung over Curry so the small girl was exposed where she was laying flat on her back. “Here you go,” the nocturne mumbled as she leaned over and nuzzled Curry’s outstretched fingers, transferring a thick film of oil to the nimble digits. Once that was done, she unfolded her wing and extended it back over Curry.

For a few minutes, they each attended their individual tasks. “I think that’s about it,” Curry said at last. She dug her heels in the ground and slid out from under the still extended wing. “How about you? Found any more patches you need me to look at?”

“No, I think we’ve got them all,” Goose said after flexing her wings to see if she could feel any areas of discomfort or tightness. “Thank you so much, Princess. I’m sorry I imposed on you.”

“Nah, you didn’t. I’d have paid for the chance. Your wings are so cool. Say, how’s it going with your problem? Are you getting used to the open sky? Think you might be able to go flying anytime soon?” There was a decided eagerness in Curry’s questioning that took Goose by surprise. There was more than an effort to make polite conversation implied in her tone. It was flattering that the princess took such an interest in her. That, and the familiarity a mutual preening session engendered caused her to answer the questions with a bit more detail than she normally would have.

“I’m getting a lot better. Yesterday I was able to look at the sky above the tent for almost a whole minute without having a panic attack.” A moment later, she admitted in a sheepish tone. “Of course, I was sort of focusing on the fact that the tent had turned into a wreck overnight.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Curry said cheerfully. “The important thing is you did it. You just wait and see. You’ll be flying before you know it.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Fluttershy, who called from the cottage door, “Curry, could you be a dear and do me a favor?”

“Sure, mom,” Curry said, hoping lightly to her feet and dashing over to stand in front of Fluttershy. “Do you need me to brush out Gilda again? Run an errand to town?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Fluttershy said as she ducked her head inside the cottage and emerged with a large wicker basket between her teeth. “Could you go down to the creek and ask Mrs. Otter for another batch of fish. She promised me she’d herd a school into the standing pond below the breakwater so she should have plenty when I needed some.”

“Sure thing,” Curry said, taking the basket. She looked over at the nocturne and asked. “Would you like to come with me, Goose.”

Goose shook her head. “I’d like to, Princess, but with my brother away, I’m not sure I should leave my post.”

“But he’s right up there,” Curry said, pointing up into the big tree that made up a good chunk of Fluttershy’s cottage. She tilted her head back and yelled out, “Can Goose come with me to get fish, Goose’s brother?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve met your brother, Mrs. Goose,” Fluttershy said nervously as she took a single step out of the cottage and looked up into the branches of her tree. “Where is he? I can’t see him.”

A gravely voice from up in the branches replied. “You're not supposed to be able to see me, Ma’am.”

“I can see you,” Curry pointed out. while beside her Goose carefully looked up into the branches with a hoof on her hat to make sure it did not tilt back too far.

“Yes. I’ve noticed,” the pony answered, sounding just a bit disgruntled at the fact.

“I can’t see you,” Goose said, her tone frustrated as she scanned the dappled shadows up in the tree. Not even following Curry’s gaze helped. Try as she might, she simply could not make out her brother.

“So, can Goose come with me to the creek?” Curry said, looking up into the tree with a hand shading her eyes from the morning sun.

“Yes, I suppose that would be allowable.” There was a pause, and then the voice resumed. “In fact, she should consider guarding you to be her primary duty while she’s on detached assignment here.”

“Hey, I just wanted some company. I don’t need a guard,” Curry protested.

“Tough,” was the unsympathetic reply. “You’re a princess; it’s part of the package. Suck it up, trainee.”

“Trainee? Are you talking to me, or Goose?” Curry asked.

“Aren’t you learning how to be a princess? She’s learning how to be a guard. You’re both in training.”

“I think I’d rather learn how to be a guard,” Curry said in a cajoling tone.

A huge sigh came from up in the branches, followed by a few moments of silence, before the voice from above said, “We’ll see.”

“All right!” Curry cheered. And decided to ‘get’ before a certain parental authority protested.

As the two youngsters, one not that much younger than the other, trotted off, Fluttershy heard Curry ask Goose,” Say, does your brother have a cold? He sounded funny.”

“I’m not really going to train her as a guard,” the grave voice came from above, speaking in an apologetic tone that despite sounding like it came from a rock-crusher, sounded concerned about Fluttershy’s opinion of him.

“I know,” Fluttershy said absently while looking up into the branches trying to spot the speaker. Try as she might she couldn’t manage it. Despite that, she was a bit surprised to discover that knowing he was up there somewhere, even if he was out of sight, was more reassuring than frightening. There was something inside her that said the speaker could be trusted, absolutely, and without reservations. Usually, Fluttershy only felt that way about animals, but for once she didn’t let herself second-guess herself just because the large creature lurking up in her tree was intelligent, and therefore had the potential for malice and lying.

***

“This isn’t going to bother you, is it?” Curry asked Goose as she ambled along the trail to the creek, a chunk of dead-fall in hand. Every few steps she’d flourish the stick, slashing and poking at imaginary foes.

“What’s that?” Goose asked.

“The fish. Mom and Rainbow Dash sort of freaked when Grumpy Pants chowed down on the last batch. I don’t know why. Mom was the one that brought them for her in the first place.”

“Oh! No. Somepony eating fish doesn’t bother me. One of my Grandfathers served on the border for several years and he developed a fondness for fish. Apparently, it’s a bit of a delicacy to the gryphons. The mountain streams are too fast and small to have anything large living in them. They always import some large fish especially whenever they have some sort of fancy feasts, like diplomatic parties.”

“You ever tried any?” Curry asked curiously.

“A little piece,” Goose admitted. She grimaced slightly “It didn’t taste very good, it was dry and too salty, and very expensive,” the last description seemed to be the one that weighed heaviest against the dish in Goose’s mind.

Curry’s face twisted up in a ‘yuck’ expression. “Salted fish? No wonder you didn’t like it. You’ve never had properly prepared fish,” Curry said with the total confidence only the young could manage. She smacked her lips and said in a reverent tone, “Filleted fresh from the stream, pan-fried, with butter, pepper, and lemon, rolled in corn-meal. Nothing like it.”

Goose’s facial expression showed that she had grave doubts about the whole thing, but at least she didn’t look like she was about to toss her cookies. Which Curry took as conditional consent to at least consider conspiring with her in cooking up a mess of fresh brook trout. But, it might be best to shove the topic under the rug for the time being. No need to push.


Looking around for a change in topic, Curry’s imagination spotted some sneaking ninja’s. She spent the next few minutes fighting them off with her walking stick, which metamorphosed into a razor-sharp sword for the occasion. The battle was hard fought and required her to leap around like a crazy person while decapitating dozens of fiendish ninja disguised as daisies.

Goose stumbled back a few steps and watched Curry’s antics from under the brim of her hat. An indulgent smile twitched up a corner of one lip after a few moments when she realized the snipe had not eaten loco-weed but was just venting some excess energy. Goose’s own belly choose to rumble just then as she looked at so much tasty food going to waste. She dropped her head and began to snack on the banquet bouquet laying in front of her.

Curry smiled broadly as her bloodthirsty nightmare steed gobbled down the detached heads of her former foes with every evidence of enjoyment.


Once the vicious sneak attack had been repelled, Curry transformed her sword back into a stick and resumed her walk, ignoring the frequent sideways glances Goose sent her way. “I didn’t know you were in training to become a guard pony. I thought you were just the princess’ maid.” Curry remarked. Her eyes brightened, and she asked in an enthusiastic tone, “Are you undercover? Is some dastard conspiring against Princess Luna? They gave you the job because you’re not a guard yet and the bad-guy wouldn’t know who you are, right? I bet you’re faking being scared of the sky, so you can surprise them at just the right moment.”

Goose stumbled slightly and flushed. She was glad her hat and sunglasses concealed a good portion of her face. “I am a maid,” she confessed. “But I wanted to be a guard. Princess Luna said I could be trained in hoof-to-hoof combat and be her last line of defense. And… I really am afraid of the sky,” she finished in a rush.

Curry paused, a lecture she had received the year before echoing in her head. “Just because you’re afraid does not make you weak or useless. I knew a pony who was scared to death of horse trailers and stalls. She had an awful experience when she was young. She was in an accident while traveling.” Curry scuffed at the dirt with her moccasin clad foot, and continued talking with her chin tucked into her chest and her eyes on the road. “I thought she was stupid and a pain in the butt. I didn’t know why she was afeard of so many silly things. I felt really awful when I found out the truth. I wish she’d been like the ponies here, so I could have told her I was sorry she’d had such a bad time of it, and that I’d said nasty things about her. I mean, I did that anyway. I just wish she could have understood what I was saying.”

“I’m sure she knew,” Goose said in an uncertain tone, falling back on platitudes to try and comfort the little snipe.

“But, you’re a lot braver and smarter than she was,” Curry said in a firm voice, jutting out her chin and giving Goose a look of admiration. “The grooms spent hours with her, trying to get her comfortable with being in small spaces. They never managed it. The best they could do was give her a lean-to shelter for the worst of the weather. You don’t need somepony trying to cure you. You’re doing it all on your own. I think you’re really brave.”

“Not on my own,” Goose corrected, Curry, clearly embarrassed at the unwarranted praise. “Lots of ponies are helping me. Even Princess Luna visits me in my dreams and helps keep the nightmares away.”

“Wait! Hold on! Princess Luna visits you in your dreams? She can do that?”

“She is the ruler of the night. Dreams are part of her domain.”

“Wow. That’s so cool. Do you think she’d come and visit me sometime?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how she decides who she’ll visit.”

“Maybe if I slept with you, we could share a dream?” Curry suggested.

Goose gave a light laugh. “That wouldn’t work very well. You sleep in the night, I sleep in the day.”

“Yeah, that’s right. You’re a, what’s it called, a Nocturne? You guys rule the night.”

“No, we don’t rule it. Princess Luna does that. We just live in it. The princess allows us the privilege of sharing it with her. She created us to keep her company in her lonely vigil. Before us, she had nopony to share the night with.”

“That must be why she went evil.”

“She’s not evil. She’s wonderful,” Goose snapped. Her entire attitude shifting as her ears tried to lay flat against her head, prevented by the fact they were sticking up through holes in her hat. The mild-mannered pony’s posture shifted, her stance becoming predatory. In an instant, she went from a dragon-winged pony in Curry’s eyes, to a full-on dragon. Sharp white teeth glinted behind peeled back lips. Goose’s displeasure and anger could not have been more plain if she’d been wearing a neon sign. Curry’s heart leaped into her chest, and she suddenly felt every bit of her lack of inches and pounds.

“Whoa, hold on, Sorry, sorry,” Curry said quickly, holding up her hands in a peaceful gesture while fighting the urge to turn tail and run. Far worse than the sudden bout of fear, was the gut-churning worry that she’d just alienated somepony who had rapidly been becoming a real friend.

“I didn’t mean she was still evil! I was just thinking that ponies really hate being alone with no company. She’s, like, really, really old, even if she doesn’t look like it. That’s a really long time with no one to keep you company. I think she’s the most beautiful pony in the world. I’m jealous you get to work for her. Please, don’t be mad at me, Goose!”

Curry’s voice became more and more desperate as she talked, and her expression was so contrite and full of woe that’s Goose’s anger vanished nearly as fast as it had come, and she had to resist the urge to wrap the little snipe in her wings and tell her everything was alright.

Goose took a tentative step toward Curry, and because she was no longer flashing her teeth, which for a moment there had sure looked like fangs, Curry stood her ground, with difficulty. “I’m sorry, Curry. I shouldn’t have blown up like that,” Goose said in a contrite tone, that went a long way toward easing the churning nausea in Curry’s stomach. “I don’t know what came over me. Don’t be mad at me, please.”

Curry took a deep breath and extended a hand to cup Goose’s muzzle. “Old Ben always said my mouth was disconnected from my brain half the time. “Next time, maybe just give me a whack with one of those wings, gently, when I run my mouth like that.”

“Deal,” Goose said, stepping in and laying her head over Curry’s shoulder so the small snipe could give her a hug. She brought her wings around and wrapped them around Curry in return.

After a few moments, Curry mumbled into Goose’s shoulder. “Guess we should go and get those fish. Who knows what, or who, Grumpy will eat if she doesn’t get fed.”

Author's Note:

Next time, on Cooking with Curry, join as as Curry demonstrates Pan Frying Brook Trout.