Up in the sky, the sun beat down like…. Well, like a massive ball of flame. But perhaps, as some said, much closer than normal. Or, as some argued, larger. Or, as the more dramatic, such as, say, a certain dressmaker said, both. But everypony agreed it was stiflingly hot, despite it now being quite late in the afternoon. Nopony wanted be outside in the heat, so everypony was lurking inside, hiding in the shade, sipping cool drinks, some wondering idly if perhaps Celestia needed advice on how to use a sun properly. As such, the roads, blurred with heat haze, remained largely empty. But not quite empty. If somepony could be bothered to lift their head and listen, they would have heard a faint, rhythmic thumping getting slowly louder and closer, heading towards Ponyville. Eventually, when the thumping reached the centre of town, they stopped abruptly. Then, a voice:
‘Thanks mate!’ A dusty brown coated stallion, akubra perched upon his rusty coloured hair, dismounted his kangaroo and dropped lightly on the dirt of the road. ‘Bloody glorious weather, isn’t it?’
A few minutes later, the pair found themselves walking in a decidedly “Food” direction. They strode (Or, rather, one of them hopped) down a pathway, casting a critical glance over the buildings they passed.
‘Nice enough lookin’ place, I suppose.’ he admitted warily.
Their paced quickened slightly, now lured by a smell that promised baked goods. ‘Course, it’s not a patch on home….’ He trailed off ‘Crikey!’ he breathed ‘What the bloody hell is that?’ The stallion gestured towards a large building that looked exactly like a gingerbread house, right down to the minute decorations. A sign hanging above a door declared “Sugar cube Corner”.
‘Bloody hell,’ He said in an amazed tone ‘Foreigners, eh?’ He exchanged an incredulous look with the kangaroo, which despite lacking the more complex facial features, appeared to be mirroring his expression. They turned back and continued to stare and the sugary building.
‘Well,’ He said eventually ‘Looks like this thing’s a bloody bakery so…’ He looked enquiringly at the kangaroo, who nodded. ‘Right,’ He gestured at nearby bench. ‘Stay here and I’ll get ya something.’ Trotting up the door the bakery, still examining its unusual decoration, he pushed the door open and wandered in, the bell above the door tinkling lightly.
‘Just a moment, please!’ A voice called from the back of the shop. A few moments later, a short blue mare emerged from the kitchen ‘Hello dear, what can I do for you?’ She noticed her visitors’ apparent interest in the walls and floors of her shop and smiled. ‘First time round these parts, dear?’ She asked.
The stallions’ eyes stopped roaming the walls and focused on the mare. ‘Oh, uh, yeah… Just got here, actually,’ He cleared his throat. ‘Very, uh… Interesting place you’ve got here.’
The mare’s smile grew a bit. ‘It takes new ponies this way often,’ She said with a hint of pride. ‘Now, how can I help you, Mr…?’
‘Bruce.’ The stallion said, extended a foreleg.
‘Cup Cake,’ She said, taking his hoof and shaking it. ‘Well Bruce, how can I help?’
Bruce, now on the more familiar ground of food, regained much of his former certainty. He cast his eyes over the display of food and smiled. ‘A half dozen blueberry muffins, thanks,’ His eye travelled a little further over the display ‘And a black tea to go. No sugar.’ As Mrs Cake busied herself collecting the muffins and preparing the tea, he cleared his throat again. ‘You wouldn’t happen know any places with rooms to let would ya? Or a place I could rent?’
Mrs Cake stopped loading muffins into a box and considered it. ‘Well… You could try the new houses Filthy Rich just built. I think he’s renting them out. Just keep walking down that road for a while and you should see them.’ She said, pointing a hoof.
‘Really? Cheers for that.’
Mrs Cake nodded and finished preparing his order. ’Twelve bits in total, please.’
A faint glow appeared under Bruce’s hat, and his saddlebags opened, a shoal of golden bits drifting out and landing on the counter with a clatter. ‘Thanks love.’ He grinned, scooping his order up in his magic.
As he turned to leave, Mrs Cake called out ‘Bruce? Your change. You forgot.’ She said, proffering a few bits.
‘Ah, no worries mate. Keep the change. As thanks for the directions, eh?’ He glanced around the room again. ‘And for havin’ a beauty of a building. Right. G’day.’ tipping his akubra, he opened the door and stepped back into the oppressive heat. Wandering over to the kangaroo, he dropped the box of muffins on a nearby bench and sipped his tea. ‘Right. Dig in, mate.’
Sometime later, better fed and refreshed, the pair set off in the supposed direction of the supposed houses for rent. Occasionally, some hot looking pony would pass them by in a determined trot towards the next cool drink. They got a few confused or curious looks, but for the most part were ignored.
‘This lot seem awful calm about seeing a bloody roo walking along,’ Bruce commented. ‘Wonder what’s goin’ on? Remember Manehattan? Mobs of bloody stickybeaks staring at us.’
The kangaroo shrugged, or at least, as much as its body would allow, which wasn’t much. The pair lapsed into silence, and once again began examining the area again, until, after perhaps ten minutes steady trot, they spotted a sign outside a large, two storey house. It looked new, its fine decorations and opulence rather out of place when compared to the more humble houses of the town. The sign informed any reader that it was for rent for quite a lot of money and that they should contact one Filthy Rich to organise such a deal. Bruce was unimpressed.
‘What sort of wanker needs a house that big and fancy?’ Bruce spat. ‘I hope they aren’t all so bloody swanky.’
Then next house down was slightly smaller and less ‘swanky’ as Bruce put it, but he was still against having anything to do with it. ‘Not looking good, mate.’ He said, scowling at a particularly ornate letterbox. However, the houses for rent slowly got smaller and less ornate as they moved on, until eventually; they spotted something far more appealing. It was a small, simple looking house, nearer a cottage than anything else. Brick foundation, white wooden walls, thatched roof. Nice and simple. Bruce wandered around it, admiring it from all angles, particularly impressed by the addition of a veranda and shady trees in the backyard. After completing his circle, he grinned at his kangaroo.
‘Almost like back home, isn’t it’ He said happily, examining the sign. Once again, it assured him it was for rent and he should contact Filthy Rich, but the amount of bits per month was far more agreeable this time. ‘Well, not time like the present, eh?’ He said, peering at the address provided for Filthy. ‘Right, let’s go, mate.’ Bruce set off, heading back towards the centre of town.
After getting lost a few times and then waylaying a few passing ponies for direction, the two eventually ended up in front of what a normal person would call a very large, fine looking home, with stately gardens, a beautifully and lovingly kept lawn with flawless statues and water features dotted across it and a truly grand looking house with master craftsmanship put into every inch of its surface. Bruce however, described it as “The biggest pile of wank made into a house he’d ever seen”.
‘Right. This bloody swanky bastard probably won’t like a roo hanging around his house ….’ Bruce looked uncomfortable. The kangaroo looked offended. ‘Yeah, I’m sorry mate. You can just….’ He cast around and spotted a brown stallion wandering by. ‘Oi! Mate’ He waved at pony, beckoning him closer.
‘Uh…’ The stallion started nervously ‘Um, yes?’
‘There a park or anything nearby, mate?’
The stallion relaxed ‘Oh, yeah. Just down that street,’ He pointed. ‘And then take the third street on the left. Keep walking, you’ll see it.’
‘Cheers mate. Right,’ He turned to the roo ‘I’ll meet you there, okay? See ya in a bit.’
The kangaroo snorted and hopped away. Bruce shook his head, muttering.
‘Uh… Anything else?’ The stallion murmured.
‘Nah, no worries mate. See ya around.’ Bruce replied, waving him away.
‘Um, alright.’ The stallion trotted off, looking rather bemused.
Bruce turned back to the mansion and grimaced. After spending few minutes scowling and muttering, he made his way up the pathway to the main entrance to the mansion. Glaring at the ornate bell outside the door, he extended a hoof and smacked it as hard as he could. He then immediately folded back his ears and jammed his hooves over them as the abused bell let out a deafening clang. Gingerly removing his hooves and cursing his lack of foresight he returned to glaring at the door. Shortly, a grey earth pony stallion opened the door, looking rather disgruntled.
‘Yes? How can I help you…’ The pony took in Bruce’s appearance and sneered ‘Sir?’
Biting back a retort, Bruce replied “G’day! I’m here about one of the homes to rent.’
‘I see. Are you sure you can afford it, sir?’ They might be a little outside your income.’ The butler paused, pointedly looking Bruce over again.
Bruce grit his teeth, ‘Yes, I bloody well can. Can we just get to the point?’
‘I’m afraid Mr Rich is away. Truly sorry, sir.’ Said the stallion, in a tone that implied that he most definitely wasn’t.
‘Oh for-‘ Bruce bit down the curse and sighed. ‘Fine. Look, can I leave a message for him or something? Maybe get an appointment about this? When will he be back?’
‘Tomorrow, sir. I’m sure he’d be delighted to see you. And which house are you thinking of, sir?’
‘Number 47,’ Bruce replied. ‘When could I see him?’
‘Oh. Number 47.’ The butler sneered ’Of course. Well, I’m sure sir could stop by at noon tomorrow. I’m sure Mr Rich will have time for such vital business. Will that be all, sir?’ He said, smirking at Bruce.
If looks could kill, Bruce ‘s glare could have levelled Canterlot. ‘Nah. No worries mate. That’ll be it for me.’ He said carefully, his gaze never leaving the grey pony.
‘Very good, sir.’ The butler retreated inside and slammed the door before Bruce could reply.
Bruce walked calmly and steadily to the gate, carefully opening it and closing it behind him with barely a clink. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then: ‘Fucking wanker bastard!’ He shouted.
Some time later, after having cooled down slightly, Bruce wandered towards the park he’d sent his kangaroo to. As he walked, his mood improved a little. Most the ponies he saw, although few, seemed normal, non-wankery types, he decided. Mr Rich and his servants seemed to be the rare and possibly necessary exception.
As he reached the park, his mood improved more. It was a pleasant, shady looking area, trees dotting the soft, dark-green grass. A small river gurgled under a bridge, ending in a pond populated by ducks and, currently, a few foals giggling and splashing each other. It was a calm, peaceful place. He cast his gaze around and spotted what he was looking for: a grey kangaroo under a tree. What he hadn’t expected to see was a butter coloured mare with a pink mane scratching behind his ears and cooing.
‘G’day!’ He called, trotting closer. The mare jumped, squeaking in fright, the turned towards him. ‘I see you’ve met me mate.’ He said, smiling at her. “The name’s Bruce.’ He offered a foreleg. When no response came he lowered it slowly. ‘You alright miss? It’s okay, I don’t bite. What’s yer name?’
‘I’m, um… It’s Fluttershy.’
‘Say again?’
‘Fluttershy’
‘Speak up a bit mate, can’t quite catch that.’
Fluttershy squeaked and stared at the ground. Bruce sighed. ‘Look, it’s okay. You were curious about him. That’s fine,’ He said, jerking a hoof at the kangaroo. ‘You interested in animals?’
Fluttershy found enough courage to nod.
Bruce smiled at the small progress. ‘Wanna learn a bit about him?’
Another nod.
Bruce sat down. ‘Well, my Mate here is a Grey Sidneigh Kangaroo. They’re one of the most common types of roo in Oatsralia. He can reach speed of up to twenty Kilometres per hour and keep at that for few hours. They can reach up to 70 Kilometres sometimes, but only for real short distances. They eat mostly grasses and other plants. Him specifically, he likes Wheat-bix.’ Bruce said, rubbing his chin.
Fluttershy found her voice. ‘Um, what’s his name. If, um, you don’t mind…’
‘Skippy.’ Bruce replied. ‘He likes you, I can tell. And the ear scratches, too. He loved them.’
Fluttershy smiled and returned her hoof to behind Skippy’s ears, rubbing them gently.
‘So, I didn’t really catch your name before.’ Bruce said, shifting slightly on the grass.
‘Oh, um, I’m Fluttershy.’ Fluttershy whispered.
‘Fluttershy. Right. So, Fluttershy, you a vet or something?’
‘Yes. Well, kind of. Unofficially, I mean. Ponyville already has a vet. But I earned my Cutie Mark caring for animals.’
‘Ah. Right, right. I suppose that’s why Skippy liked you straight off, then.’ It was silent between them for a few moments. ‘Good thing he did, though. Vicious little buggers, roos. Might’ve been bad if he didn’t like you.’
Fluttershy looked shocked ‘Oh no, he couldn’t be! Just look at him!’ She cooed. ‘He’s so sweet!’
Bruce snorted. ‘Miss, I’ve seen what an angry kangaroo can do to a pony. They can kick, bite, claw and punch a pony to death. Where’d you think the idea of the boxing kangaroo came from?’
Fluttershy removed the hoof, looking somewhat appalled.
‘We’re near water, too. Don’t want to get a roo angry when it’s in the water, trust me. They’ve been known to hold a ponies head under the water ‘till they drown. Like I said, vicious bastards.’
The look on Fluttershy’s face was a mixture of horrified disbelief and fear. She was shaking slightly.
Bruce turned away from her, digging in his saddlebags and pulling out a sleeping bag and a billy. Back still turned, he continued. ‘That’s Oatsralia for you. Want to hear ‘bout a few more critters?’ He asked, turning.
There was nopony there. There was, however, a yellow and pink dot in the sky, getting much smaller as it accelerated away. He grinned. Then, he wandered over to the stream and filled his billy halfway. Placing it down next to Skippy, he nodded at the roo. ‘Go find me some kindling, will ya mate?’ Skippy nodded, ambling off to search. Bruce started collecting rocks, forming them into a circle, then joined Skippy. Soon the pair had enough wood for a small fire, billy perched above the crackling flames. Bruce dropped a few teabags in the water and lay back against a tree. He remembered Fluttershy’s look of terror and smirked.
‘Heh. It never get’s old’ he chuckled.
The soft light of dawn bathed Ponyville, slowly warming the town after the cool respite of night. It looked to be a fine summer day, no scorching inferno like the day prior, but a pleasantly warm day. Birds, rising early with the sun, acquired the complimentary worm that came with such earliness and sat twittering and singing their chirpy songs in trees, revelling in the pleasant caress of the morning sun.
That is, until a can half filled with cold tea hurled with pinpoint accuracy knocked them out of the tree and in some cases right out of the world of consciousness.
‘Shut the hell up you bloody feathery bastards!’ A red eyed and very annoyed Bruce disentangled himself from his sleeping bag and glared at the birds hovering overhead. A few considered staying an enacting revenge for such an insult, but quickly changed their minds and vanished when they saw him levering a rock out of the dirt, a harsh, calculating look on his face.
‘Hmph.’ Bruce snorted, dropping the rock. His gaze shifted to the grey lump that was Skippy, who had appeared to have slept through the ordeal. Grumbling slightly under his breath, Bruce dropped his hat onto the sleeping bag, dug a small case out of his saddlebag and still muttering, staggered over to the river. He glared at it for a moment, then, with a sigh, collapsed into it. A few seconds later, he broke the surface, gasping slightly. Scooping up the wooden cases bobbing beside him in a reddish brown aura of magic, he gently removed the top and extracted the prize within: A single bar of soap. Yawning hugely, he slowly began cleaning away the grime of previous day.
Twenty minutes later, a far more awake Bruce sat in front of a small fire whilst his billy, now retrieved and refilled with fresh water and teabags, heated up. As he waited, he pulled a paper bag for his saddlebags. Extracting the loaf of bread from within, he cut two thick slices with a knife that appeared seemingly from nowhere, which vanished just as suddenly. Then, levitating the slices above the fire, he turned back to his saddlebags and, with an air of reverence, Bruce drew a jar of what any normal, sane, creature would quite fairly accuse of being a mass produced, highly toxic biological weapon. It said ‘Vegemite’ on the label. A few minutes passed, and the toast was ready to eat. After smearing the two slices with brown toxic paste, he prodded Skippy in the back. Several pokes later, the kangaroo shifted and opened his eyes and glared at Bruce.
‘Breakfast.’ Bruce said, proffering the slice and a tin of water. Grunting, Skippy snatched the two from the brownish aura and stuffed the toast in his mouth and then coughing and chocking on the heat, downed the water.
‘Goin’ for a look ‘round town after breakfast.’ Bruce announced. ‘Coming?’
In response, Skippy managed a huge swallow, laid his back on the ground and shut his eyes. Skippy was as much a morning roo as he was a pretty pony princess, which is to say, not at all.
‘Guess not.’ Bruce said, taking a bite out his own slice and washing it down with a gulp of tea. ‘So, I’ll meet you back here later today then. Try to keep outta trouble, okay mate?’
After finishing his meal, he carefully extinguished the fire, jammed his hat on firmly and packed away the campsite. Levitating his saddlebags onto his back, he strode off into the morning sunlight, ready to explore Ponyville.
As Bruce wandered the dirt paths of Ponyville, studying the houses and the shops, he noticed that most of the ponies he saw were all drifting in roughly the same direction. Figuring he might as well check out what was going on, he too began ambling in that direction. A few minutes of strolling led him to a large, open area filled with stalls being prepared, a wide variety of goods already visible on the half constructed stalls.
‘Ah. Market day. Beauty.’ Bruce smiled, he’d always liked markets back home, and this looked awfully familiar. Weaving through the stalls being unpacked, Bruce came to a stop when he heard a crash of pottery and cursing.
‘Oh, for Celestia’s sake…’ A cream coloured mare turned and glared at a dark pink mare scrabbling in the dirt, trying to scoop up the remains of several clay flower pots.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’ the mare whimpered. ‘Ah!’ she jerked her hood back from the shards, bleeding slightly. Moaning in frustration, she reached out again, but sopped as the shards were enveloped in a rusty glow. The remains of the pot, along with the dirt and flowers they had contained, floated up into the air and coalesced into a ball.
‘You alright mate?’ Bruce asked. “Where’d ya want me to put this?’
‘Oh, thank you. I’m fine. If you could put it on the cart, ’the mare waved at a nearby cart, laden with, amongst other things, trays of pots very similar to the ones floating nearby, except they were intact. ‘That’d be great.’
‘No worries.’ Bruce replied carefully dropping the ball of clay and soil. ‘Need a hoof with the rest of them?’
‘Oh, no, that’s okay.’ The pink mare said, idly rubbing her cut.
‘Yeah,’ the cream mare spoke up. ‘We wouldn’t want to take up your time.’
‘No worries mate. I was looking to use to up some time.’
‘Oh. Really? Well, in that case, thank you, Mr…?’ The cream mare looked inquiringly to Bruce.
‘Bruce.’ He grinned and extended a foreleg.
‘Roseluck.’ She replied, shaking his hoof. ‘But just call me Rose.’
‘And I’m Lily. ’ The pink mare stood, extending the hoof with no cut. Bruce smiled at her and shook it.
‘Right. Where do you want these flowers?’ Bruce asked, horn lighting up.
‘Put as many of the trays on the stalls as you can. Then we usually put the rest that don’t fit on this table.’ Rose said, pointing at a folding table on the cart. ‘We can handle the rest, thanks.’
‘Right. Let’s get to it.’ And with that, the trio began setting the stall up.
‘So Bruce, ’Lily started, arranging some flowers into a more appealing display, ‘Looking for anything in particular today?’
‘Nah, not really.’ Bruce said, floating a pair of trays onto a stall with a click. ’Just filling in time, like I said.’
‘What’re you waiting for?’ Lily asked.
‘I gotta go see some bloke called Filthy Rich about a house to rent. Until then, I gotta find something to do.’
‘Oh? Are you moving here?’ Rose said, looking up from a bouquet she’d been arranging.
‘Yep. For a while, anyway. I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.’ Bruce said, setting down another set of trays.
‘Well,’ said Lily, looking at the trays stacked neatly on the stalls, ‘I think you’ll be a great addition to the community. Glad to have you, Bruce.’ She gave him a shy smile.
‘Thanks mate.’ Bruce said, returning the smile.
‘What was it that drew you to Ponyville?’ Rose asked. ‘I mean, I love it here, but what made you choose it?’
‘Well, when I looking for a new place to stay,’ Bruce began, ‘I heard about a little town out in good farming countryside. It was growing quickly, but still a pretty small place. Peaceful sounding. Close to a big forest. It sounded like where I grew up. So I figured I’d give it a try.’
‘So why the move in the first place?’ Rose asked. ‘Not that we’ve got a problem, but if Ponyville was just like where you grew up, why not move back there?’
‘Home changed.’ He said simply. ‘That and, well… There was a bit of a falling out. Going back now would end in tears, I can tell you.’ Bruce’s normally chipper tone faded slightly, and an awkward atmosphere surrounded the three ponies.
‘Oh. Lily shifted uncomfortably, staring at her hooves. ‘I’m, um, sorry to hear that, Bruce.’
Bruce shook his head, banishing whatever dark thoughts he was entertaining. ‘Nah, no worries mate.’ His cheerful tone returning, Bruce grinned a grin that someone who knew him might call mischievous. Unfortunately for the two mares, they did not and therefore didn’t see the trap they were about to fall for.
‘You two are into plants, right?’ Still grinning, Bruce continued, ‘How’d you like to hear about the native plants of Australia?
Daisy trotted marketwards. Today, she decided, would be a good day. Nothing to do but deliver some breakfast to her cousins, spend a few hours helping them run the store whilst relaxing in the shade and chatting and then getting paid for it. The getting paid for it was an important part, she felt.
As she approached the stall, she noticed that there was already a third pony behind the counter. Her faced curled into a smirk when she realised it was a stallion. She needed to tease the two about this, she felt. It was her duty as close family to make things awkward. As she strolled closer, she wondered what embarrassing memory she should bring up in front of the stallion. It was cruel, but sometimes you needed to be. And who could you do it to if not family? As she got closer still, however, she noticed their expressions were not of a mare talking to a cute boy. They were a combination of horrified disbelief tinged with curiosity. Her face hardened into a scowl and hurried closer, taking a deep breath in preparation to give this stallion a first class tongue lashing.
‘… and it’s a pretty bloody useful tree, I can tell you. You can make all sorts of things with it apart from just the wood. Good paper, eucalyptus oil, damn good quality honey from the flowers and a bucketload of dyes. And they look pretty nice, too.’
Daisy deflated mid-snarl. They were… discussing trees? Trees didn’t usually cause this sort of expression, she would know. She cleared her and her cousins started, whipping around with a somewhat wild look in their eyes.
‘Celestia!’ Daisy exclaimed, ‘Girls, what happened to you? Who is this stallion?’
‘Daisy!’ Rose grabbed her shoulder, pulling her closer “they- he –the trees, he has trees, t-the trees, they, the Widowmakers, they’re Summer Killers they call them!’ She gibbered, clutching Daisy even harder and closer and whispered ‘Branches like spears. Falling from the trees. One minute walking, then the trees just...’ Her eyes opened again, they had gained a slightly crazed gleam. ‘So they look up. He, him,’ She gestured to Bruce ‘They. They look up. Not down. Up! Because of the Widowmakers. Everywhere. And they get even worse…’ Rose sank to the ground, still clutching at Daisy.
‘I…What’s going on here? Rose?’ Daisy looked to Lily, who seemed relatively more stable. Relatively being the operative word.
‘The trees. The Eucalyptus trees. Widowmakers, they call them. They, they, they explode.’ Lily’s voice seemed to be acquiring some the mania her sister’s possessed as she thought about what she was talking about. ‘They, when they catch fire. They explode! A-and, then, then the burning shards spreads fire to more and they explode and then….’ She trailed off and shuddered at her next thought. ‘Some of the trees need the fire. The trees there, they need to be burnt to spread seeds! Like, like some sort of demon plant that needs fire instead of water!’ She lapsed into silence trembling slightly.
Daisy turned to Bruce, who was looking on with an expression of slightly guilty amusement. Her face hardened into a glare so sharp you could have shaved with it. ‘What in Celestia’s name did you DO to them!?’
Bruce shifted around and then, with a worried grin ‘I, uh, told ‘em about my country. ‘
‘What?’ Daisy stared at Bruce, and then took in the akubra at the same time that her brain recognised his accent. Unlike her cousins, she hadn’t been born in Ponyville and possessed a slightly less, well, ‘country’ education. She had heard o the nightmares of Oatsralia before. ‘Oh. Oh, right. I see.’ She looked her cousins, still shivering, and, in Rose’s case, still clutching her leg and whimpering. ‘That’d do it.’
Author's Note
Gosh, I'm sorry this took so long. Things got busy after I posted the first chapter and will remain so for a while.
I'm also sorry because this was originally meant to be one half of a larger chapter that covered Bruce actually getting his house. But I figured I should post this because this is at least something.
And for those wondering, I have heard eucalyptus trees called both Widowmakers and Summer Killers. Admittedly it was by other Australians trying to scare foreigners but seeing as how that's exactly what Bruce is doing, perhaps it's fitting.
If Daisy knows about other countries why was she scared of Zecora? Because she heard biased horror stories from Rose and Lily.
Or something.
