"Now there was a time when you loved me so."
"I couldn't do wrong, and now you need to know."
"See, I've been a bad, bad, bad, bad man, and I'm in deep."
"I found a brand new love for this man, and can't wait till you see!"
"So how ya like me now?"
-The Heavy
...
"Interloper!" young Thunderhooves shouted as the buffalo closed in around Cranky Doodle Donkey.
"Take it easy, I don't want any trouble!" Cranky replied, shaking his head and backing away.
"You should have thought of that before you began poaching our tribe for fur!" Thunderhooves shot back, slamming his hoof against the ground.
"I don't know what you're talking about, honest!" Cranky protested loudly, sweating. "I'm just trying to cross the desert!"
"You're the only non-buffalo we've seen in the past several days, aside from our honorary!" Thunderhooves retorted. "And you are wandering our sacred stampeding grounds! I refuse to believe that you just happened to be crossing this desert! Kill him!" The buffalo began to close in around Cranky, who sank to the ground, bracing himself for the end.
"Hold it!" a voice called out among the crowd. The buffalo ceased their attack, and turned. Cranky looked up to see a stallion, yellow of coat and black of mane, navigating his way through the crowd. He sported a brown, hooded cloak and had a large knife strapped to his side. His cutie mark was a wooden log.
"You have something to say, No-Moss?" Thunderhooves asked.
"Listen, mate," No-Moss replied in an accent that Cranky didn't recognize, "I really don't think our poachers would just up and wander the desert in broad daylight where we could catch 'em, do you?"
"I suppose that would be incredibly stupid," Thunderhooves replied, nodding slowly. "Still, this donkey is trespassing upon our sacred stampeding grounds, and he must answer for that!"
"Yeah, sure, obviously he needs to answer for that!" No-Moss said, feigning laughter. "How dare he and so forth," No-Moss gently shook his hoof at Cranky, who stared back at the stallion wide-eyed. "I'll guard him on the way back."
"Very well, back to camp, where the donkey will stand trial!" Thunderhooves shouted as they all took off. "If you try to run, we will trample you into the dust!" He glared back at Cranky, who gulped.
"Don't worry, mate," No-Moss replied, trotting alongside Cranky. "You'll just get a slap on the wrist or something. I'll plead your case and get you on your way. I know how to talk to these guys."
"I appreciate that. No-Moss, was it?"
"That's just the tribal name the buffalo gave me. Name's Drifting Wood," the stallion replied.
"I'm Cranky," the donkey said, nodding.
"Name or current mood?" Drifting Wood asked, cocking his eyebrow.
"Both, actually."
...
"Guilty!" Thunderhooves' father, Chief Quickfoot declared, stomping his hooves repeatedly as the other buffalo reciprocated.
"In my defense," Drifting Wood said, turning to Cranky, "you didn't give me a whole lot to work with, mate. Multiple eye-witnesses identified you as being at the scene of the crime."
"That's because I was there!" Cranky shouted, scowling. "Everyone was there! That part shouldn't have come as a surprise to ya!"
"See, that right there? Admission of guilt. That's the mistake you kept making on the stand," Drifting Wood replied, shaking his head.
"Oh for crying out loud," Cranky muttered, smacking his forehead, "are you some kinda idiot?"
"Well I was going to save your ass during appeals, but now you can forget it!"
"Okay, this is ridiculous. Chief?" Cranky called out. The Chief ceased his stomping and gave Cranky his attention. "This is just a big misunderstanding. I'm on a very important journey, I've been walking for days, and I got lost in the desert. I'm sorry I trespassed, but please, don't punish me for a simple mistake!"
"Hmm," Quickfoot grunted, scratching his chin. "You seem genuinely penitent. Very well, I will offer a compromise. You will do a favor for us, and in return, we will let you go"
"My client and I will have to deliberate," Drifting Wood interjected, attempting to lead Cranky off to the side.
"No we won't!" Cranky replied quickly, swatting Wood's arm away. "Just tell me the details."
"Seeing as how you are non-buffalo, you just might be able to catch the poachers who have plagued our steps. You will follow our herd from a distance beginning tomorrow morning and keep an eye on things. Should you see any suspicious activity, you will investigate it, then report back to us."
"You'd trust me to do that?" Cranky asked.
"No-Moss will accompany you and make sure that you stay the course and complete your task," the Chief responded. "Similar attempts by him alone have been unsuccessful, but with a second pair of eyes, perhaps we will be able to identify our culprit."
"What exactly's been happening?" Cranky asked, sitting down.
"We believe they track us during the day," the Chief began, "and at night, they kidnap our kin, two at a time, and..." the Chief began to shudder.
"And?" Cranky asked, leaning forward.
"And..." the Chief's lower lip began to shake as tears formed in his eyes.
"And what!?" Cranky asked, his eyes widening.
"They shave us!" a buffalo cried. Cranky turned to look at the speaker and a short scream escaped his mouth. Before him stood a completely hairless buffalo. He sobbed into the bend of his elbow as a nearby friend patted his shoulder.
"Men, women, even children," the Chief added, shaking his bowed head, "they take them all, blindfolded, and de-fur them! Then, they put them back the next morning, naked as the day they were born, except more so!" He allowed a sniffle. "Our Shaven are exposed to the elements of the desert! The unforgiving sun, the bitter cold of the night, and most of us do not have the necessary funds to purchase the trendy coats and accessories required to fill the void that has been left behind!" All eyes glared at one particular Shaven who was clad in a rather nice fleece hoodie and comfortable flannel pajama bottoms.
"These were a gift!" he whined, backing away and lowering his head.
"The whole situation sounds horrible," Cranky interrupted, nodding his head solemnly. "It's also a little bit weird, but mostly horrible. I would be honored to aid you in your attempt to catch the ones responsible!"
"Splendid!" Chief Quickfoot exclaimed, clapping his hooves together. "Do this for us, Cranky Doodle Donkey, and you will not only be forgiven of your transgressions, but regarded as an honorary member of our tribe!" The other buffalo stomped their hooves in agreement and began cheering his name.
"Told you I'd get you out of this," Drifting Wood said, nudging Cranky.
"Never become a lawyer," Cranky replied. "Though I guess you did stop 'em from killing me on sight in the first place, so thanks for that, kid."
"All in a day's work," Drifting replied, rapidly raising and lowering his brow while grinning.
"A day's work, huh?" Cranky asked. "We'll have one of those tomorrow while we play lookout."
"Yeah, about that," Drifting replied, "that's really more like two days' worth of work for me, so I'm gonna have to ask you to pay overtime. And then, of course, there are my legal fees."
"Let's just get some shuteye and get this over with," Cranky sighed, walking away.
"Alright," Drifting Wood whispered, "new friend!"
"So here's how I think we should do this: you keep an eye on the right, and I'll keep an eye on the left," Cranky said the next day, as the Buffalo stampeded far ahead of them. He took a deep breath and fanned his face with a hoof. "Sure is hot out here, though. At least they promised to run slow for me."
"Yeah, you're old and stuff," Drifting Wood replied, nodding, while staring off behind them.
"Our friends are that way," Cranky replied, jerking his head in the direction of the buffalo.
"Right, anyway, I've already got a plan," Drifting replied.
"A plan?" Cranky asked, tilting his head. "Isn't the plan to keep an eye on the buffalo?"
"Better plan, follow me," Drifting replied, taking off before Cranky could respond.
"Now hold on," Cranky protested, sliding in front of Drifting Wood. "They're gonna be suspicious if they turn around and can't see us."
"As long as you stick with me, it's all good," Drifting replied, sidestepping Cranky and continuing on.
"Fair enough," Cranky shrugged as he followed. "And I've been meaning to ask you about that, how'd you wind up runnin' with this tribe?"
"A couple of weeks ago I crossed paths with Thunderhooves, the Chief's son, in Dodge Junction. We met in the saloon. After a few rounds on him and a couple of funny stories from yours truly, we stumbled out of that bar, pals for life. Don't think he'd met any ponies before me, so he takes me back to his tribe, right? Tells his pop he wants to make me an honorary member."
"Must have made quite an impression on him," Cranky replied, altering his path slightly to avoid a cactus.
"It's what I do," Drifting replied with a nod. "So I stampede with them for a few days. Hell of a workout by the way, my calves have never looked better. In the end, most of the buffalo aren't too fond of me, but my buddy's the chief's son, so next thing you know, I'm No-Moss, Honorary Tribesman."
"Rolling Stone would have sounded better," Cranky replied.
"Thank you, that's what I said!" Drifting Wood exclaimed as they began to approach a mountain. "But it was taken. Rolling Stone was the bloke wearing the hoody and pajamas."
"That really was a comfortable looking getup," Cranky said.
"I know, Rolling Stone's got mad connections. I'm jealous!"
"So what's your story pre-buffalo?" Cranky asked, cocking his head.
"My story is like a nudie-bar, mate: sketchy, full of beautiful women, and something you're better off avoiding during the day," Drifting replied, before sticking his hoof out to stop Cranky as he came to a halt. "We're here." Cranky observed the small mountain they had stopped in front of, and the cave entrance directly in front of them.
"What's here?" Cranky asked, turning to Drifting Wood.
"Stick close to me," Drifting replied, "we're going in." Cranky hesitated for a moment before following Drifting Wood into the dark cave, sticking close to the stallion while his vision slowly adjusted to the darkness that was creeping up around them.
"You gonna tell me what's in here?" Cranky whispered.
"Yeah, look, see?" Drifting replied, gesturing toward the literal light at the end of the tunnel. They came upon a torch-lit cavern with an elevated ceiling and a shallow pool of water that was constantly being fed by the dripping condensation from the stalactites above it. At the other end of the clearing stood three ponies.
Two were large and muscular, with matching coats of dark blue, shaved manes, and sunglasses covering their eyes. One had a left boxing glove for a cutie mark, the other had a right boxing glove. The third had a tan coat, a heavily gelled blonde mane, and he wore a cheap, striped suit. His cutie mark was a depiction of his own head, the facial expression upon it frozen in a perpetual grin combined with half-open eyelids.
"What's with the donkey?" the suit-wearing pony asked as the other two stepped forward.
"Head Honcho, meet the newest addition to our crew, Cranky Doodle Donkey!" Drifting Wood replied, extending his hooves towards Cranky, who gasped as his eyes drifted to the back left corner of the cavern, upon which sat multiple piles of fur.
"You're the poachers!?" Cranky exclaimed, taking a step back.
"Woodsy," Honcho replied, "why is he acting like he doesn't know why he's here?"
"Well, he doesn't, yet," Drifting replied, gently shaking his head.
"You're working with them?" Cranky shouted, glaring at Drifting Wood.
"Woodsy, here, is good at making friends," Honcho replied before Drifting could speak. "Boss says buffalo fur is a hot item for clothing right now, so we send our resident charming shyster in to get all cozy with said buffalo. He keeps tabs on 'em, sun goes down, we harvest."
"Harvest!?" Cranky replied, his gaze rapidly shifting between the four ponies. "That's sick!"
"It's not like we're skinning them or killing them or something," Drifting Wood replied, reaching out to Cranky. "We shave them. Fur grows back. It's a victimless crime!"
"That is not a victimless crime!" Cranky shouted, staring Drifting Wood down. "Those buffalo take you in, give you a name, treat you like one of their own, and that's how you repay 'em!?"
"It doesn't sound like he's gonna cooperate," Head Honcho replied.
"Look mate," Drifting Wood said, placing a hoof on Cranky's shoulder. "You're in a tight spot here, I get that. The buffalo were gonna kill ya, and you can't get back into their good graces by catching the culprit because, ya know, that's me. So join up with us, we'll cut you in on the profits, the buffalo won't kill you. Everyone wins, really."
"Except for the buffalo. I absolutely refuse," Cranky grunted.
"He knows too much," Honcho replied. "You know Van Richter's policy, dead men tell no tales."
"Which is a ridiculous way of phrasing it, by the way," Drifting replied, turning toward Honcho. "He's a white-collar crime boss, not a bloody pirate."
"So it's either help you kidnap buffalo for their fur or die?" Cranky asked. Head Honcho nodded.
"Sidebar!" Drifting shouted, pulling Cranky away. "You're not really gonna die over buffalo hair, are you?"
"I'm not gonna help you poach 'em, no matter what you do to me," Cranky replied sternly. "Maybe you had me figured for a chump when you vouched for me in front of Thunderhooves, but you were wrong."
"Look," Drifting whispered, leaning in close, "the reason I stood up for you in the first place is because I don't want to see anypony die. This shaving thing? It's trivial, it's good money, and it's not worth dying over. Be smart about this, mate!" Cranky seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding thoughtfully. He turned back to Head Honcho, and delivered his answer.
"We passed by a cactus on the way here. Why don't you go suck on it?" Cranky replied as Drifting Wood smacked his forehead.
"Uh-huh, that's real cute" Honcho replied, turning to his henchmen. "Drown him." They nodded, and began to approach Cranky.
"Cranky," Drifting Wood protested, "seriously, dude? Come on!"
"No, you come on," Cranky snapped back, looking Drifting Wood in the eye. "You said you didn't wanna see anypony die. If that's true, you've got a choice to make, right here and now! It ain't too late to make this right, kid."
"It's not that simple!" Drifting replied, shaking his head rigorously. "Nopony double-crosses Van Richter and lives to see their next nationally recognized holiday! My hooves are tied, here!"
"Woodsy knows how things work, you oughtta listen to him," Honcho agreed, nodding. "Last chance to change your mind before Left Jab and Right Hook put you to bed."
"Bring it on, you four-legged gorillas!" Cranky shouted, turning away from Drifting Wood and facing his attackers. "I may be old, but I've got plenty of fight left in me!" Jab made his move first, closing in on Cranky, who spun around and kicked with all his might, destroying Jab's glasses and sending him stumbling backward with two bruising eye sockets. Before he could celebrate his first strike, Hook punched him square on the button, dropping him.
Jab recovered, and the two thugs lifted the dazed donkey by the shoulders, dragging his struggling form to the pool. "Wait, maybe there's some kind of compromise-" Drifting Wood began before Head Honcho silenced him with a glare.
"Too late for that," Honcho replied, shaking his head slowly, a scowl on his face, "he hurt one of my boys. Dunk him!" Cranky opened his eyes as his face was plunged into the water. He fought with all his might, but couldn't free himself from their iron grip. After a few moments, he felt his lungs begin to strain, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold the shallow breath he had taken before going under for much longer. He could faintly hear Drifting Wood's muffled voice gradually rise in volume.
"I guess this is it..." Cranky thought to himself. "I'm sorry, Matilda..." His vision began to darken. His eyelids grew heavy. Finally, he felt the burning sensation of the water crashing over his sinuses and into his lungs. In his mind's eye, he beheld Matilda's youthful face one final time...
Suddenly, he was yanked upward, and thrown to the ground. He coughed up some water, then caught his breath. He looked up to see Drifting Wood standing between his captors and himself. Hook was breathing heavily and clutching his throat. Jab was writhing on the ground, hooves covering his groin as he wept openly.
"Have you gone crazy!?" Head Honcho shouted.
"Why not bring your delicate little neck and/or groin depending on the mood that strikes me over here and find out?" Drifting replied, baring his teeth. "If you're gonna start killing ponies, you can forget about our arrangement, ya psychopath!"
"Couple of cheap shots and suddenly you think you're a tough guy?" Honcho replied, laughing. Jab and Hook were already recovered from Drifting's sneak attack and ready for round two.
"I've always thought I'm a tough guy," Drifting replied while grinning. He bent his neck downward, then jolted his head up into the air. The knife he was carrying flew from its sheathe and rolled over in the air several times before coming to a stop firmly clenched between Drifting Wood's two rows of teeth. The long, razor sharp blade gave a glare as it reflecting the torches that illuminated the cavern.
"Okay," Honcho replied, raising a hoof and taking a step away. "I've seen you practice with that thing enough to know you'd gut us like fishes. You can go, but keep in mind that we're gonna come after ya, and Van Richter ain't just gonna let this slide." Drifting Wood uttered what Cranky assumed was a witty retort, but it was muffled by the knife in his mouth and nobody understood a word of it.
"What he said," Cranky added, coughing one final time and standing up, his gazed fixed on Honcho's growling face, unaware that nearby, Drifting Wood was scooping up multiple sacks of bits and tucking them into his own saddlebag.
...
"Will the buffalo be alright?" Cranky asked as they made their way through the desert, the sun dipping behind the distant mountains.
"Yeah," Drifting replied, "without me keeping tabs on 'em, Honcho can't do squat without getting caught. They'll pack up and move on."
"Sounds like we've got a pair of targets on our backs now, eh?"
"Nah," Drifting replied. "Van Richter lives in the Old Country, and his operators here in Equestria have Princess Celestia and the Royal Guard to contend with, so they keep their crimes non-violent and low-key. Honcho was just blowing a lot of hot air."
"So what's next for you?" Cranky asked, lifting his head.
"Dunno," Drifting Wood replied, shaking his head. "My calendar was pretty much blank before I teamed up with Honcho, and I'm not going back to the buffalo."
"Well, I'm searching for a long lost, dear friend," Cranky said, lowering his gaze. "Been looking all over Equestria for her. Could always use an extra pair of eyes."
"Are you asking me to travel with you?" Drifting Wood asked, raising his brow, eyes wide. "After I nearly got you drowned?"
"You shaved buffalo, dragged me into the criminal underworld, and earned the hatred of a foreign kingpin. I think you'll do a heck of a lot less damage if I'm keeping an eye on ya, kid," Cranky replied, smirking.
"Fair enough," Drifting replied, returning the expression. "I know of some killer taverns around Equestria anyway, and I can keep up my own search as well!"
"Your search for what?" Cranky asked.
"Fortune, of course," Drifting Wood replied, grinning.
"Shoulda guessed," Cranky replied, rolling his eyes. "Well, here's to our search for love and loot."
"You can have the love, I'll take the loot!" Drifting Wood replied as they bumped their hooves together.
...
"If I was to cheat, would you see right through me?"
"If I sing a sad, sad, sad, sad song, would ya give it to me?"
"So how ya like me now?"
