The Wizard of Whitetail Woods π
Gancanagh
Admiral Biscuit

One of the advantages of the small cave entrance was that the cave was unlikely to be occupied by anything much bigger than a pony. (Unless this was just a ventilation hole, in which case all bets were off.) There couldn’t be a dragon inside, for example, nor an Ursa, a Quarry Eel, an Unfathomable Casserole, an Ophiotaurus, or a Manticore.

Fruit bats would fit, and unfortunately so would yales, at least until the entryway got plugged up with their bodies, something KitKat considered an option. No more than two could charge at once, the Wizard could get one and she’d get the closest one and before too long, they’d have secured the entrance with yales.

“What the heck are those things?” The Wizard had been spending too much time with fuckbooks and not enough time studying the Equestrian Monster Grimoire, Volume VI: Quadrupeds, non-flying.

“Yales in common parlance, or centicores if you want to be fancy and use their technical name. They’re kind of sideways related to hippos and boars and there’s an elephant in the mix somewhere and looking at them I think more than a little goat, on account of the stature and the bifurcated hooves.” She frowned. “I’d be playing down the goat part if I had goats in my family tree.”

“Does this cave have another outlet?”

KitKat shrugged. “How would I know? I hope not, or else we’re gonna get flanked and that will be that.”

“So what, we just wait for the end in here?”

“Is my contract over when you die?”

The Wizard narrowed his eyes; he was at least smart enough to see a potential escape clause for her by the way she briefly glanced at her axe. “Uh, no, not until the McGuffin and I return to town, and if you try any funny business, I’ll curse you, that’s what happens when you sign a human contract.”

“Believe me, I know.” KitKat sighed. “Every time I close my eyes I have a flashback to your shriveled shmekl, maybe that’ll fade in time.”

“And every moment it’s gone, I miss it,” the Wizard lamented. “I suppose I might as well peel these stickers off.”

“I’ve got more in my saddlebags. Vermin handed out a bunch of them, and I thought maybe they’d be collectable in the future. If we survive, I’ll stick new ones on.”

The Wizard started peeling the stickers off his rump, then paused, half a campaign sticker in his mouth. “You’re not giving up, are you?” Any dramatic turn to his words was lost, since the sticker was now stuck to his tongue.

It was very good adhesive.

KitKat shook her head and squared her shoulders and hips, then hefted her saddle axe. “If nothing else, I plan to remain standing longer than you.”

•••

Their lack of a proper assault plan served KitKat and the Wizard quite well. A wave of yales would charge from around the rocks, the Wizard would pick off the rear guard, and KitKat would handle the front ones. Sometimes she used her axe, sometimes her hind hooves, in order to work all muscle groups and not unnecessarily fatigue herself.

The grass on the hillside was trampled and stained and the new barrier they had was surprisingly effective. Not all the yales had the courtesy to die in the proper spot, but she really couldn’t get upset at them for that.

Their vantage point wasn’t quite high enough to see if additional reinforcements were streaming out of the woods. Sometimes, they’d hear hooves overhead, and at one point several of them tried prying the upper rock off the cave. The Wizard considered leaning out but KitKat stopped him—that was probably what they wanted him to do.

By now, there was no effective way to assault the cave frontally—not without moving a pile of bodies first.

“Ponies haven’t invented grenades, have they?”

“Grenades?”

“They look like metal pineapples, pull a pin, toss it into a hole, and it explodes and everybody dies.”

“No, we don’t have those.”

“Thank God.”

“Griffons do, though. And probably minotaurs, they do lots of trade. Wouldn’t really be their style, though; they tend to rush in without thinking. You know, that’s another reason I suspect they’re related to goats. Although hippos do that, too.” KitKat frowned. “Probably the only reason they’re not currently attacking us is that they can’t get in.”

The Wizard looked out the hole, keeping his head far enough back that his movement couldn’t be seen. “Are they afraid of the dark?”

“Not as far as I know, why?”

“Because the sun’s setting.”

“Well, soon enough we’ll find out if this is a bat cave.” KitKat reached back into her saddlebags and grabbed a can of soup—Mrs. Grass’ Soup Kiburo. The bananas and coffee came in it, but she had to add in her own dirt for a local flavor.

She scraped some rock-dust in the top of the can and drank it like Popye downs a can of spinach. She’d been saving it for a special occasion, which this very much wasn’t, but she’d also kick herself in the afterlife if she’d never eaten that can of soup.

A sudden tremor shook the earth and jiggled the pile of bodies. Further down in the cave, the bats yawned and looked at the time and the eagerest of them started flying for the single entrance.

Where they discovered a pony with a saddle axe, a not-pony with a horn, and a stack of dead bodies that were shuddering each time some outside force slammed into them.

The bats weren’t stupid. Flying into that catastrophe was a terrible idea, so they went back down into the cave, reported what they’d seen, and everybat agreed that it was better to sleep late and wait for the problem to go away.

“Welp, looks like things are about to get interesting again,” KitKat said. “Step back, and let me handle this.”

“All yours, madam.” The Wizard even tried to courtesy, nearly tripped over his hooves, did step on his own tail, and then made an orderly retreat further into the cave.

On its own, empty, the soup can wasn't much of a weapon, nor was it meant to be.

It landed near a yale, who jerked back as it rolled to a stop between his cloven hooves.

He sniffed it, then started nibbling at the label and the tasty glue underneath.

He never even saw the rock coming.

•••

Meanwhile, back in the cave, KitKat continued her one-mare stand while the Wizard watched.

Also, the Wizard was watched, but the Wizard didn’t know that.

Besides just the bats, the cave held another denizen, this one not quite as big as a pony. He lived in a well-appointed side-chamber which the bats knew but avoided; they had little interest in the shenanigans of ground-bound creatures, so long as said ground-bound creatures didn’t bother them.

He yawned and stretched out, then stuck his dudeen between his teeth and shuffled up towards the entrance of the cave.

Unsurprisingly, he made the same discovery that the bats had. Rather than retreat, though, he spent a moment taking in the situation. There were two mares, and they were right in his cave, and he was a Gancanagh and this was going to be a memorable night.

He sidled up to the unicorn, it was closer, and nibbled at its ear.

The Wizard jerked his head around and lit his horn. Just as quickly, the Gancanagh put a hoof over it. “Hey, little lady, want a quick rutting?”

“I’m no lady,” the Wizard protested.

“And I’m not picky.” The Gancanagh blew a cloud of smoke from its pipe in the Wizard’s face and got into position, something it had plenty of practice at. “Trust me, it’ll feel amazing.”

There was a lot that the Wizard hadn’t figured out, and there was also a lot that the Wizard hadn’t figured out about being a unicorn or a mare, and the latter category was the relevant one at the moment.

“KitKat? A little help?”

KitKat ignored him; she had bigger fish to fry.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” the Gancanagh whispered. “It’s just a little prick.”

The Wizard shrugged. “Well, we’re all about to die anyway, so why not? Might as well test this thing out.”

“That’s the spirit.” The Gancanagh nibbled on his neck and thrust forward.

It was not little, and it was a feeling that the Wizard had never experienced in his life, one which he completely lacked the vocabulary to describe. It pleasured nerves he didn’t know he had, he completely forgot that he was likely about to die, and as the Gancanagh buried itself completely into the Wizard’s wizard hole, a new even better sensation started gripping him.

This must be the clit that KitKat was talking about.

He was along for the ride, helpless to resist, imagining that this was how the Unicorn must have felt when he was fucking her, even if she’d glared at him and asked if that was it and then spit on his feet when he admitted it was.

He got off, and he hadn’t understood what she was mad about but now he did. If he only had his ramrod back, he could—

It just got better and better the longer the Gancanagh thrust into him.

“You’d better not stop,” he hissed.

“No intention of it.”

KitKat, meanwhile, finally noticed the odd squelching and panting from the Wizard’s direction, and since for now the pile of bodies was still standing fast, she turned to see just what the fuck was going on over there.

“What the fuck?”

The Gancanagh looked up at her. “Your turn next.”

“I am not getting sloppy seconds from a fey, not gonna happen. I’d rather be torn apart by that lot out there.”

“I know how to please a mare.”

“Less talk, more thrusting,” the Wizard moaned.

“A mare, huh.” KitKat grinned. “Boy are you in for a surprise.”

Author's Note

This can only end one way, and nobody’s going to like it.

Well, the bats will probably be okay with it.

KitKat’s gonna be okay with it.