Chapter 3

The Empty Mug sat right off the intersection between, Haystersburg, the Everfree Mining Co., and the local branch of the Equestrian Trading Association - which had  been the point. Old Mug, like any shrewd business pony, had seen an opportunity and took it. Now, the once unavoidable bar and trade goods store, had become the central point of all activities in the area, especially, with times as they were.

Summer had never cared for the Empty Mug or its proprietor. Even so, she did acknowledge that the establishment did provide a reasonable service to all ponies in the area, including herself. The only reason she would even stop at the Mug was due to it being her friends favorite watering hole, that, and between their two schedules, it was the only time and place  where they could see each other. With work being so scarce, it felt like an eternity since they last meet up.

When the Empty Mug came into view, Summer clearly understood what Clandestine had been mumbling about. The once small building on the hill, had been transformed into a military compound that put even the grocers fortress to shame.

Summer gave a low whistle. “Even with the full force of the three races - that - was - quick.”

“If, they wanted to get paid, I have no doubt of it,” Obsidian said, pointing out the obvious.

Summer rolled her eyes. “Well yeah. Still, it's been just shy of three weeks since we last past here. That,” she said pointing to the new buildings, “is just impressive.”

“Still an overkill.” Obsidian pawed at the ground then turned to her. “I’d like to know how he’s paying for it.”

“Guess even collecting scraps can amount to something in the end,” Summer said, fixed on the bright beacon before them.

“There has to be more to it,” Obsidian stated. Getting no response, he inched his way into her view until she finally acknowledged him.

His cocked head indicated what was on his mind. “Not our concern,” she told him. “All that I care about is getting those bits and getting out without something else going wrong.”

“You do realize,” Obsidian said, moving in front of her as he pointed to their destination, “that is not an ordinary sight for around here.”

“Everypony these days has a fort or whatnot,” she said brushing him off. “Don’t get paranoid on me. So - Old Mug, cheap bastard that he is, scrimped his bits and took his time. What of it!”

She tried to move forward but he blocked her path, “Summer…”

“Look, I want those bits,” she said flatly.

Obsidian stood there as she defiantly stared him down. Seeing that she wasn’t going to budge, he nodded and returned to his place behind her.

She eyed him from the corner of her vision, as he waited patiently.

Something within her tried to push its way up from the depths, but she squashed it before it could take root. There was only one path and that path was her homes continued existence. She would not be deterred from that.

        The roads around the Empty Mug, being highly travelled with potential customers, always had a random patrol about. As they approached, it was clear that the random patrol had become patrols and increased in both size and consistency. In fact there was nothing random about them now as it seemed there was a steady timing between each as they passed by.

Summer couldn’t help but think of how overdone the ponies looked in their intimidating, yet rust armor and cheap weapons. Worse was the fact that these ponies were nothing but simple townsfolk looking to make ends meet. There was no comparing these clumsy ragamuffins to Clandestines small force of disciplined soldiers.

What did get her attention, was the two patrols that attempted to shake her and Obsidian down. Granted, none of those ponies knew of her, or, as she could tell, were from around Haystersburg, else they would never have tried such folly.

What her gaze couldn’t push away, the snap-to sound of her shoulder rifle did. No matter how equipped or desperate any of those ponies were, there wasn’t enough hunger in their eyes to commit against something that could bite back.

That didn’t hold true for the guards stationed at the gate. She could see the hunger, not just in their eyes, but in every motion of their body. There was unwavering commitment at the ready and it boggled her how the Empty Mug had found some pony to be that dedicated for what she bet was for a little amount of bits.

What also caught her eye about these ponies, besides them also not being from Haystersburg, was their plain, logo-less, navy blue and grey uniforms. Unlike the patrols, these uniforms were freshly made and of good quality, that and so were their armor and weapons.

The guard in the booth had a lot of questions, much more than she thought necessary to allow entry. Still, she kept her answers brief, and to her best ability polite. After all, being concerned about suspicious activity on the roads or if the patrols were behaving themselves wasn’t itself out of the ordinary. The latter, however, she answered carefully.

Even though the guard was content with Summers answers concerning the road, the fact that Summer was armed and Obsidian carrying weapons for trade only added more questions. In the end the two of them had a small escort leading the way.

As they were taken to a welcoming center, for some reason Summer couldn’t fathom, she couldn’t help but notice the absurdity before her. Patrols were one thing, so were the spotlights. She could even believe the gun towers, but as her eyes followed the fence rise into the air, making a ninety degree bend to create a cage to keep fliers out of the whole area, somepony had gone too far. There must have been some angle to all this otherwise, what was Old Mug thinking?

It didn’t stop from the gate. Several rows of barracks sat tucked away and to her shock, several riot suppression carriages that Obsidian pointed out, stood waiting. She could tell those hidden eyes of his were expressing his distaste for what was clearly being stated by their surroundings.

“Hey, it’s still not our problem,” she told him, though she was beginning to wonder if this had been a good choice. She was never a fan of the Empty Mug, but this felt more and more like she was trotting through the middle of some eminent coup d’etat. Not that the droves of parading soldiers were helping to dispel that feeling. Either way, it was too late now.

The new “welcome center” was anything but welcoming. If anything it was more of a processing center with rows of desks, counters, booths, and endless amounts of ponies that she didn’t recognize.

Where had all these ponies come from! Haystersburg and some of the surrounding villages didn’t house this many. Even if by chance, all the gangs had joined up with Old Mug in the short span she had been at the bank, it still didn’t amount to what she was seeing.

The check-in booth was, as Obsidian had state before about the place, overkill.

A wall of policies and rules printed in big bold letters, which for those that resulted with a shot on sight penalty were in red, stood before the check-in booth with an array of scanners and unicorns that seemed to reflect the paranoid mind than security.

Summer kept her mind on the bits. Just had to endure, she told herself. She would get the house through this one way or another.

The guards escorting them placed Obsidians saddlebags on the counter and with a few words to the clerk, left.

With this amount of security it was no surprise why the check-in booth for weapons was so far in. No pony stupid enough to try something was going to get out alive.

The clerk before them was a pretty young mare, with sapphire blue eyes and a well kept coat of green. Her mane was also like her eyes as well as her shoes. Her ears had shiny ornaments clinging to them, why, well - who knows. They did look nice, Summer admitted. She must have had some spare coin lying around. As far as Summer was concerned, this begged that the earth pony be introduced to her assortment of homemade gadgetry.

Surrendering her equipment wasn’t fun at first. It seldomly was with normal instruments of death, but once the more interesting pieces slid across the counter, the revolted look from the well-to-do earth pony was more than satisfying.

She placed her favorite conversational piece on the counter and toyed with it. “Ah, now this is something every mare should have for those particular moments. It can be very helpful,” she said making certain gestures with the device, “when you just need to keep those stallions in place when you don’t want them to…”

The mare began to dry heave as she braced herself on the counter.

“You alright? You look like you could use a stiff…” Summer said trailing off, then slid the device across the counter.

Once the gadget slid into the green mares view, she quickly found the nearest wastebasket and began heaving.

An earth pony stallion quickly took over. His expression was far from friendly as he began to open his mouth to give Summer a piece of his mind, but once he spotted the device, then noticed Summer grinning ear to ear, he said nothing.

“I like to keep my intentions up front when looking for a good time,” she said with a wicked smile.

The stallion, went from unfriendly to unsettled, but grabbed the device with a bag and placed it in the box.

“What, about - your friend there?” asked the stallion as he reigned in his stomach.

“Just the hood,” stated Obsidian as he stared intently at the stallion who quickly looked back to Summer with a questioning look.

“Some questions are best left unanswered,” she said. “Don’t take my word on it.”

“I think I will,” stated the stallion. “We’ll send your trade goods ahead to the trading center, since weapons of any kind aren’t allowed passed this point.”

Summer restrained herself from running after the goods and took the ticket.

“Remember to check the map on the otherside. You don’t want to get lost somewhere you shouldn’t be in,” stated the stallion.

Summer caught the stallions apathetic tone and returned it with a smirk that was disconcerting.

Going through the scanners and magical fields was in a way, amusing. Yes, it did make her feel very exposed,  but the extra mile they were taking to ensure that no pony snuck in some weapon was a sight to behold. More so, when Obsidian passed through. Each scanner he went through had some result the technicians couldn’t account for. The magical fields, merely failed to do anything but crash around him. One of the unicorns even asked him to remove his hood believing he was using some talismen.

“You sure?” Obsidian said, his tone very amused.

“Sir, remove the hood,” said the unicorn firmly, making it clear that the order wouldn’t be asked again.

When Obsidian removed his hood the unicorn was already screaming at him to put it back on. The commotion had drawn every ounce of attention it could as Obsidian pretended not to understand.

“By the Elysian Fields, what horror did that to him?” said the unicorn next to her.

“Cutie Dismarkisa,” she responded, holding back a chuckle. The unicorn stared blanky back. “Misplaced, deformed cutie mark. Certain things won’t work on him correctly or at all. Has something to do with whatever his cutie mark was supposed to be. Quiet incurable, ya know.”

“You should have - said something,” said the unicorn taking a step away from her.

“Didn’t know it would affect your equipment like that.” When she noticed the growing distance between her and the unicorn, she smirked. “Aren’t you supposed to be guarding me? It’s not contagious!”

Once the commotion had died down, Obsidian returned to her with a very pleased look about his smile.

“Tasty?” she asked.

“Quite,” he replied, then said, “You didn’t have to go that far with the clerk. She didn’t deserve that.”

She gave him a flat look and moved towards where the map was supposed to be.

The “map,” when she realized she had found it, was an interactive screen with a long directory of locations that didn’t seem possible for the size of the place. Then again, whoever programmed the software had no idea  where “you are here” was in relation to everywhere else. Fortunately, she didn’t need the map for finding the trading center, she just needed it to make sure her sense of direction didn’t take any shortcuts to places that she wasn’t supposed to be. Sadly, the map did a poor job of even that.

Closing her eyes, she let her instincts guide her. She could feel the location she sought and the quickest route immediately came to mind. Naturally, when they trotted along, she had to redirect herself from the areas with warnings in red letters. Sometimes special talents were more trouble than talent.

The trading center wasn’t how she’d pictured it. When it came to trading goods, or at least how the Empty Mug used to do trading, it was always at a booth with an appraiser and a guard. The booth and guard, plus some extra, were still there, but that was not where she was directed to. Instead, she went to a desk with an earth pony who had way too many off the wall questions, unlike the guards at the gate.

She understood the idea of asking if she owed bits to the Empty Mug, but to other ponies. Even the questions about her employment status, the geopolitical situation, and the economy were all off putting.  When asked if she would seek employment with the Empty Mug if the situation presented itself, she drew out her gaze and hammered it hard on the pony.

The pony quickly wrapped up the strange questionnaire and pointed swiftly to some benches. “It’ll be twenty minutes for the appraisers, so please have a seat. The clerk at the booth will call you then.”

Some nerve asking her to join the Empty Mug, she thought as she made her way over to the bench.

As the two of them waited she let her eyes wander. From the moment she had seen the new version of the Empty Mug, she had been astounded. It was all new, quality ranging depending on what it was, such as the steel bench she sat on to the floating crystal orbs placed strategically around the place. What she couldn’t fathom this whole time was the amount of ponies working for the Empty Mug. There was no way Old Mug could afford all this, even if he did scrimp and save his life away, and especially not with how Equestria was suffering.

Then it slid by her defenses. The idea snuck in and took root and began to spread. She played with the thought until finally she had to admit to what she was seeing. The Empty Mug was now a military strong point for hire. It had to have been. The idea fit. Old Mugs always did have a knack for finding a niche and exploiting it to the most.

“Hey, Sid,” she whispered to the slumped over form beside her. “I think I know what’s going on. Sid, hey! You listening?” As no response seemed evident, she proceed to poke his shoulder.

His reply was one of annoyance, “I’m busy at the moment.”

“Hey, I think I might have…” a group of security ponies passed through. Once they had left, Summer tried to speak again, but was cut off.

“Congratulations,” said the hooded pony. “We now sit on one of the many benches of the sovereign nation of Mug.”

She looked at him stunned. That wasn’t what she had been thinking. Yes, the private military was right up Mugs road, but sovereign nation? Even that was a long stretch.

Obsidian gave her a sly smile.

She slowly rolled her eyes and hoof punched herself in the face. “Why!”

With a  quick chuckle and upbeat tone, he said, “I told you something wasn’t right.”

Summer snorted. “Like I couldn’t figure that out! Just not ‘that.’ Where you’ve been?”

Now his smile was playful. “Not our concern remember.”

Summer wanted to say more, but the clerk called her over.

Obsidian, with a smug smile, gestured to her to keep her mouth sealed. In return she gave a particular gesture back.

The estimate had everything on it, down to the most anal of details. The value of the trade, however, did not reflect the amount of effort put into pricing the items. It also wasn’t  anywhere near what she expected or even remotely fair. She made sure she told the clerk just as much with a bit of color added for flavor.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but the policy is: no negotiations, no adjustments, or haggles,” said the clerk.

“Exactly how fair is this,” she waved the ticket around then slammed it into the countertop. “I’d be better trading air for farts!”

“Ma’am, if you are unhappy with the estimate, Mr. Mug would be more than happy to address your complaint himself,” said the clerk.

She nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I want to address my complaint!” she said loudly.

“He is already waiting to see you,” said the clerk. “He’ll even waive the entry fee to the lounge. You can find him by the bar.”

What? Wait, lounge... he was already…

She looked up to the floating crystal orb above the window. Right… and strike two for the night was complete.

By the fires of Tartarus! “So where do I find Old Mug?” she asked.

The clerk gave them directions, better one’s than the map.

As they left, one of the security ponies said, while snickering, “I hope you have better luck than that blank flank friend of yours.”

Summer attempted to turn around, saying, “I just want to clarify my hoof to his face is all. It’s not that I want to do anything drastic,” as the brown stallion kept his forehoof over her and in the correct direction.

When they arrived at the lounge, Summer again found a contrast between the old and new. The once quiet bar now had loud music pumping through every crevice making conversation an intimate affair. Trying to spy through the dim lighting, only indicated the obvious of what she did actually see and what the purpose of the lounge really was for. She didn’t like the idea of trotting through the den of thieves and degenerates, but this farce had to be played out.

When she spotted the bar, she noted the aged earth pony polishing the glassware behind the counter.

His coat was worn and his eyes tired looking, yet he took in everything around him with a clear mind. He was exactly the ideal image of a quiet schemer: ordinary.

As she stared at him, he too, was looking back with his mask off and a cunning smile.

She bumped Obsidian, then nodded to follow.

Once they reached the bar, Old Mug pointed to a free darker space to the side.

“Well, well. Thought you’d never come back,” said the old pony as he picked up a new glass and began polishing it. “What can I do for ya prairie queen?”

There was many things she wanted to say, most of them not suitable for a foals ears. Instead, she threw the ticket up on the counter and got right into it. “I thought this was the place to do trading. I am I mistaken or are your ponys missing something?”

The old pony never even looked at the paper. Instead, he put the glass on top of it. “Last I remember, but times change.” Old Mug turned away and focused one of his eyes on her. “Everypony has what you’re selling. If anything I’m doing you a favour, especially, after that little show at the check-in.”

She pushed in closer and smashed her hoof on the bar. “Don’t try to change the subject on me! The price is not fair, Mug!”

“No, the price is not what you need.” His sneer told her what he was up to. “I could increase the amount, that is, if you are feeling lucky enough for some work. Considering your father, I’d say you’d be up for the task.”

Summer began to work that gaze of her’s on him, but quickly he laughed it away.

“That act might work on them greenhorns,” he said, fully mocking her with his laugh, “but not me.”

Rage boiled inside her. “I didn’t come here for your cow…” she begun.

“Consider your next words filly,” he said calmly. “I like that you put the staff on the tip of their hooves, but that’s where it ends. You want more, yer gonna earn it.”

The temptation to smash her hoof into his face was too tempting, but she remembered her over zealous determination to see this through, and the warning Sid had made. She let the rage take its course and gave in. “What’s the job?”

“Relax, prairie queen. It’s easy, quick, and will let you get to your normal employer before they realize they still don’t have any work for them.” He pointed towards a table by the back, with none other than the blood red pony she was hoping to see.

From what Summer could tell, her friend was once again playing a drinking game and was winning, from their being a lack of bodies on the floor and a raging brawl.

Summer laughed hard, getting a frown from the old pony. “I get it. You low ball the trade, have me come down to you to complain, only to tend to some business you need done for that “higher” pay.” The sinister glare and smile on her face expressed what she thought of him. “Who’s trying to fool who now!”

Old Mug nodded to himself, then tipped the glass weighing the paper down. “Tic for tac,” he mumbled, then said flatly, “But, the price for your help remains the same.”

Summer chuckled darkly. “Even with all this,” she said gesturing to the place,  “you think because I’m her friend she’ll roll with whatever you want me to do. You should know her better.”

“I think you misunderstand your role in this, Ms. Stars,” Old Mug said with a serious tone. His eyes locked on to hers and he put up a stare that took her aback. The sneer returned to his face. “Your job is to be my participating hostage.”

Summer stopped smiling.

“Cherry owes me some coin and with the way the world is turning, its time to collect, you understand,” Old Mug said.

Looking back to her red friend, Summer stated, “She seems like she’ll be paying you tonight herself.”

“Oh, not those bits,” Old Mug said quickly. “The bits I want are the one’s she still owes me. She’ll be lucky if that sum covers the night.”

“She might be a drunk, but Cherry always pays her debts,” replied Summer pointing her hoof at the grey earth pony.

Old Mug waved his hoof around dismissively. “And she won’t have them tonight, but it’s time to collect.”

“You’re asking for a bloodbath, I hope you realize,” Summer pointed out. “Cherry won’t take this sitting down. Can’t this wait…”

“Pairer queen, that’s why you’re going to help. Else...” Old Mug tapped his snout.

This couldn’t be happening, Summer thought to herself. She just wanted to trade for bits. She didn’t want to stumble on some coup d’etat led by a conniving bartender or barter for lives.

Damn it!

“How much does she owe?” Summer asked, defeated.

There was a strange twinkle in the old pony’s eyes. He motioned her closer, then whispered it in her ear. As the total hit her mind, she could feel the color drain from her coat.

“And you kept giving her credit?” she said more from shock than rage.

The old pony shrugged his shoulders. “Not my place to be any ponies keeper.”

Without hesitation, Summer said, “I’ll do it, but I don’t want the bit’s, I want her debit expunged.”

Old Mug laughed. “That be an interesting offer…”

“Give me the full price for helping you and I’ll take whatever she has now from her and add my own into the mix.” She threw a pouch on the counter.

Old Mug eyed it for a moment then with a steady swoop, weighed it without looking inside. Something played in his mind but whatever it was he let it be.

“I also don’t want her ever coming back in here,” Summer added.

The old pony continued on with his thought then snorted and pocketed the pouch. “Don’t worry - she won’t.”

Summer moved back to Obsidian and leaned in. “You hear all that shit?”

The hooded pony nodded. “I’ll keep close by.”

“What a night,” murmured Summer to herself. This was not going to be pleasant, not by a long shot.

“Remember,” Old Mug pointed to the floating crystals, then indicated his eye.

Yeah, she got it.

Summer watched as Obsidian blended into the surroundings then vanished altogether. She wish she could do that sometimes. Well, she’d like to do it now but… With a heavy groan, she trotted over to the table where her friend sat and took in the future murder scene where her body would be outlined in white chalk.

The stallions sitting with her were all lightweights by the way they fumbled about the table. There was nothing serious about them other than that they were looking for a good time and found Cherry instead. Honestly, it was a sad sight by her reckoning.

Cherry on the other hoof was stacking the double shot glasses five deep in a four by four square. Her laughing was deep and she was playing with the eye patch over her right eye, which meant she was having a good time playing these greenhorns.

The bowl was overflowing with bits and was a tempting sight, even to Summer. The sad part of this was, that if let alone, Cherry would drink all those bits away before the new day.

Everything seemed to be going for Summer, even so, this had to be done carefully, like disarming a bomb. There was a bit of irony in there somewhere, but Summer didn’t have the humor to find it.

She approached Cherry from the ponies right side and waited. Like a bandage, Summer told herself. Once the round was over she would make her move.

As the glasses slammed upside down onto the table, Summer quickly placed her hoof over Cherry’s, holding the fresh shot glass down to the table.

Cherry immediately turned to the owner of the forehoof and let the flames dancing in her eye fade. “Summer?”

“Cherry,” Summer said, then followed up with a hoof punch to her friends face.

The red earth pony fell backwards hitting the floor hard, but didn’t seemed phased. Instead, she got up as though the action was quite normal, cursing colorfully and stood hoof to hoof with Summer, her lone red eye back to a full flame, burning a hole through the mulberry ponies head.

“Nothin’ like starting with my full attention, prairie queen,” said Cherry with an unfriendly and somewhat toothy smile. “So where’s the demon, unless ya lookin’ ta die?”

Well, step one was a success, Summer thought. Hope step two was just as successful.

“I need you to stop - now,” stated Summer, sidestepping the question and her friend as the red pony moved in closer.

“Nice ta see ya as well,” replied Cherry, the lone eye still burning bright. “I thought them niceties was what ya started with in conversations.”

“Hey lady…” one of the young stallions said, trying to stand up.

Summer and Cherry both gave him their best glare, and he somehow found his seat again.

“Summer, I’m busy,” Cherry said grinding her teeth.

“Not anymore.” Summer nodded to the bar. “Your debt is being called in.”

Cherry looked over to Old Mug as he gave a wave. “So, ya bill collecting or some shit for that bastard?” Cherry said as she pushed Summer with her hoof.

Summer pushed back. “Typical firecracker! You think I’d do something like that!”

“If the shoe fits!” snapped Cherry.

Summer rolled her eyes. “He’s using me as a pony shield!”

“Always beating round the bush.” Cherry snorted. “I’ll burn him down...”

“You do something stupid, he’s gonna do something stupid back, get it!” Summer said pressing her hoof into her friend’s chest, but Cherry was focusing her attention back at the bar. “You listening to me?” Summer smashed her hoof into her friends face again then grabbed her by the scruff. “I’m trying to save your drunk ass! Let it go.”

Cherry eyed her friend dangerously. Breaking free of Summers hold, she stood face to face. “Piss off. Yar not my mother.”

“No,” Summer said, then pointed to herself, “but my mom acted more of a mother to you, than yours!”

Summer could see the fire burning in that left eye and the foul smell of the turnip twisters from Cherries breath. It was all on her friend now.

The fire danced wildly in that eye, then, after a few moments, gathered itself to a single flame. “I’ll let the first one go, but I’ll settle up with ya later on the second,” Cherry stated as she pressed her shoed hoof hard into Summer’s chest. “Now, what do I gotta ta do?”

That could have went better, Summer though. Step two, done. One more to go. “Give me the bits. Walk out debt free, and don’t come back.”

Cherry gave Summer a flat look. “Like he gonna just ignore the rest.”

“I paid the rest myself,” Summer said, catching the ever so slight change in her friend’s  demeanor. Step three and life will go on.

Cherry snorted. “I didn’t ask ta be saved.”

“I didn’t ask to save you,” Summer shot back.

Cherry stared hard at her friend then flashed a wicked smile. “Then I’ll see ya - eventually.” She looked to the lightweights and said with the same smile, “Momma here says I have ta stop playing, but if yar ever looking ta lose yar bits…” then drifted out.

Summer didn’t even acknowledge the other ponies, nor did she care so long as they didn’t try to stop her. She just grabbed the bowl and headed back, letting the bowl drop on the counter spilling some of the contents.

“Either it’s your lucky day or mine. That second hit...” stated Old Mug with a grin, then snickered shaking his head, “She must really like you not to kill you on the spot. Either way, this deal is done.”

Summer ignored the statement. “I don’t want to hear of her, this place, or you, in the same sentence or - I will be back.”

“Oh you won’t,” said the old pony as he began to toss the scattered bits back into the bowl. “Besides - terrorizing folk isn’t my forte, Ms. Stars. That would be yours. Wouldn’t it.”

It was time to leave, else she’d set the place on fire for both herself.

Heading towards the exit, Obsidian emerged from the crowd, a phantom in the mist, and followed silently at his post.

Far from the Empty Mug, she rage at the moon and the night with all that remained within her. Empty of rage, It still didn’t change the fact that she had trotted out with less than she had trotted in with.

“If you hadn’t had taken Clandestines advice, then Cherry may never have left,” Obsidian said, trying to make her feel better about the loss.

He was right, of course. She didn’t like to give Clandestine credit, but however she wished to look at it, in the end, she hadn’t lost that which mattered most.

Speaking of Cherry, she’d see the firecracker again in the near future. Not tonight, perhaps, but soon. Summer knew m.o. of the fiery pony. She’d cool off first, then come looking for Summer with a bone to pick, timing the moment to strike just when it would hurt.

The sooner the better, Summer wished. She never liked waiting for one of Cherry’s surprise beat downs.

Obsidian put a comforting hoof on her shoulder.

“Third time’s the charm?” she asked aloud. Three strikes and you’re out, she said on the inside.

“It’s getting late. Would you like a cloud ride?” he asked her with a sympathetic smile.

        A half smile cracked her face. “That would be wonderous.”