Juniorby Retired5262020ChaptersA Camping We Will Go! (2)A Camping We Will Go! (3)A Camping We Will Go! (4)The WatchA Camping We Will Go! (1)A Camping We Will Go! (2)You are Anonymous Junior, or just Junior to most. It's friday afternoon and school is almost out. A lesson dragged on forever and pushed recess to almost the end of the day, and the game today? Hoofball. Perfect for venting all the frustration of a long day. "Hike!" You grab the hoofball passed to you and dart through a hole in the other team's linemares, who clash with the linemares on your team. You rush as fast as you can on three legs since one of your forelegs is holding the ball, almost flying over the grass in your haste. Your heart thunders in your ears and your breathing gets all your focus. In the corner of your eye, you can see Peachy sprinting right at you, but Apogee comes in with a tackle that knocks the yellow earth pony filly off her hooves. Scootaloo moves into your path and plants herself to intercept, her face determined, so you just grin and lower your stance as you run. The pegasus tries to tackle you, but being a mutt means you've got dense human muscle flowing with magic, so you blow through her. You hear the wind get knocked out of her as you carry her along for about a yard, then she falls and skids through the grass, staining her coat. With your superior green coat, grass stains aren't a thing for you. The in-zone comes into view. Yes! Just a few more yards and you've got this! You grin a toothy grin as the chalk line of the in-zone gets closer, but you see somepony coming in hot from your left. Eyes narrow and angry, Applebloom bullrushes you, making you snarl. If there is anyone as strong as you in class, it's Applebloom. There is a flash of black and white on your right, and without thinking, you pass the ball before Applebloom slams into you, making both you and her fall in a jumble of limbs that slide across the grass. "Touchdown!" Zala you beautiful zigger. Her voice tells you that your gamble paid off. You untangle yourself from Applebloom, not bothering to offer her any help as you rise. ”10 to 2, baby!” Apogee cheers with a flutter of her wings as the team regroups around you. “We win!” You, Apogee, Zala, and the other fillies cheer as the other team sulks on the other side of the field. You look over, seeing most of them taking the loss pretty well. Luftkrieg got picked for the other team and doesn’t seem bothered, but both Applebloom and Scootaloo are miffed. ”Of course the team with the hulking freak wins!” Your roll your eyes and turn further, finding an angry Diamond Tiara covered in dirt and grass stains. She’s in the process of putting her namesake tiara back on as she stomps up. 'Euh. Bringing an actual diamond-studded tiara to school? How gaudy could you get?' The pink filly finishes putting her headwear on before scowling even more. "You hear me, you half-monkey mutt?” A few of the girls hiss and you fight the urge to turn around and buck Tiara right in the mouth. Instead, you smile nice and wide, putting your sharp teeth on full display and stalk closer to her, head held low like a predator ready to sprint. To Tiara’s credit, her expression doesn’t change even when you stop less than an inch away from her face, but you do see a short shiver run down her back. Even full-grown mares hate ‘the look’, and Tiara is no different. “Wanna run that by me again, little miss perfect-flank?” You quietly ask, toothy grin still in place. “Maybe actually try in the game sometime rather than worry about chipping a hoof like a colt, and you’ll win, or maybe not be picked last.” Her face burns red. Being rich and popular means Tiara is almost never picked last, but she had to suffer the shame of being last before, and did it again today because Zala and Applebloom were picked as the hoofball captains. Neither one wanted dead weight on their team. It must burn Tiara something fierce that you of all ponies pointed it out, since you’re the first pick and top-scorer damn near every time. ”Maybe if our captain wasn’t a biased blank-flank who picked her blank-flank friends first, that wouldn’t have happened and your smug, freak-of-nature self would be in the dirt,” Tiara grounds out, pointing at a wounded-looking Applebloom, furious Scootaloo, and worried Sweetie Bell. Oh the teats on this one for talking about bias. Before you can retort, the bell rings and signals the end of recess. She shoots you one last glare, then trots off to find Silver Spoon and her clique of other hanger-ons. You snort, then turn back to your friends and fell into step as you all walk back to the school ”Jeez, Junior. I thought she was actually going to throw a punch, there,” Apogee says, fiddling with the hoofball under her wing. “She looked really mad.” You shake your head. “Nah. Tiara is all hot air and mommy money. She can talk shit she'll drop like a little colt after one hoof to the jaw and she knows it.” ”Still, perhaps you should not goad her?” Luftkrieg asks as the group stops by the door with the other mass of fillies. The germane pegasus flips it bit of her blonde mane out of her green-ish eyes. “It’s only a matter of time until she is angry enough to attempt something.” You scoff. “Like what? Bitch and moan to daddy that the mean green filly is bullying her? Get real. If she wants to go screaming about bullied, then I’ll actually give her a reason to cry.” The colts all walk past the fillies into the school, getting the privilege of being first as is usual, and once the last colt passes, the fillies start filing in. You find your desk near the back and sit down as Ms. Cheerilee clears off the chalkboard. To your left, Apogee sits, and beside her, Zala. Luftkrieg sits in front of you. ”Welcome back everyone!” The teacher greets everyone with a smile. “Sorry about how long the last lesson took. There isn’t much left today, so we’ll just be doing a bit of review for the math test next week!” You groan and can hear Apogee sigh next to you. In front of you, Luft perks up like the goodie-perfect student she is. Cunt. Cheerilee ignores the groans and moans. “Also, the fillyscouts will be let out a bit early today in preparation for their camping trip to the Whitetail woods. Fillyscouts, please head home at 2pm to get you things please!” Now THAT is some good news. You look over at the clock and are delighted to see it’s 1:05pm already. With a smile, you pull out your textbook and pretend to read. ”Okay, fillyscouts! You’re free to go! Go home and come back here at 4pm to meet Scoutmaster Sweet!” Cheerilee announces after what feels like the longest fifty-five minutes of your life. You throw your book into your bookbag and are out of your seat along with about a fourth of the class. You, Luft, Apogee, Zala, and a few others beeline for the door and out into the blessed freedom of the weekend. ”You girls already packed?” Zala asks as you, she, Luft, and Apogee canter down the path into town. ”I think I am?” Apogee replies with a sheepish smile. “I’ve never really been camping before and I’ve got all the stuff on the fillyscout list, but I get the feeling I’m forgetting something.” ”No need to worry, mein sister made sure to help me pack extras of the essentials. If you are missing something, I’m happy to share!” Luftkrieg smiles. Apogee smiles back and bumps flanks with the other pegasus. “Thanks, sis.” ”How about you, Junior?” Zala asks you. You shrug. “I’ve got everything on the list, and my old man is bringing a gigantic backpack worth of stuff, so I’m sure I can bum off him if I need it.” You aren’t joking about how big dad’s backpack is. It’s a huge thing filled to the brim and even has metal braces on it. You tried to lift it last night for kicks and barely got across the room before your legs began to wobble. It must weigh more than a grown mare. ”Will mister Heart need help with his things? Did he pack a lot?” Luft asks, focusing on you. You roll your eyes. “Don’t get any bright ideas. My dad doesn’t need help, and you’d throw your back out trying anyway.” You split off from the girls after a short goodbye and start the trot back home through Ponyville. One the way, you spy the town’s new librarian and her… dragon out and about. The purple unicorn has her nose buried in a notebook as she slowly walks by, and her saddlebags are filled with what looks like books. The short dragon with her rides on her back, too engrossed with a Sugar Cube Corner cupcake to notice much else. Supposedly, Princess Luna came back on the night of the last Summer Sun Celebration a few weeks ago, the same night that the librarian came to town. She and a few other mares fought Nightmare Moon and freed Princess Luna, or that's what the rumor mill says. You didn’t notice anything and slept through it, if it actually happened. Personally, you don’t believe it, but dad’s serious warning to be both wary and respectful of the purple unicorn trumps your reluctance to believe. Dad is a lot of things, but a liar isn't one of them. Deep thoughts over, you find yourself at your house and walk inside, shutting the door behind you to enjoy the air-conditioned interior. Man, it’s hot outside. You trot up to your room, get your (dumb-looking) fillyscout uniform and trade your bookbag for your camping bag before coming back downstairs. “Hey, Dad!” You call. “I’m home!” Silence is all you get in return. With a frown, you trot to the kitchen and look around, not finding your lug of a dad, but a sticky-note stuck to the fridge. With a hum, you take the note and look it over. Junior, Went out to get a few last minute things. Home soon. Love, Dad. “Huh, okay.” You shrug and ball the note up in your hoof before tossing it in the trash. With nothing to do and well over an hour and a half until you need to leave, you check your things one last time, then trot down the hall past the kitchen and living room to the den. You push the door open and take in the large room. Inside is a human-sized loveseat facing a fireplace, mom and dad’s favorite place to relax. The mantle of the fireplace has several trophies and pictures, including a picture of mom and dad’s wedding and foal pictures of you and your little brother Redcross. You look up at the wedding picture, not really seeing any noticeable difference between your parents back then and now, thirteen years later. Mom is as healthy as they come and everyone says dad ages like wine. You don’t know much about wine but assume it's a compliment. Away from the mantle, you see dad’s gigantic backpack. It’s almost ridiculously huge and filled to bursting. A (probably custom) sleeping bag is rolled up and strapped to the top while a large shovel and an axe are strapped to the side. Well, the shovel and axe are large to you, and probably to any pony, but they’re probably more like an entrenching tool and a hatchet to dad. Even further past the backpack and bookshelves, you see mom’s desk against the wall in the corner. It has several medical texts on it and a half-full crystal decanter of some amber booze. No doubt mom is using both studying to get some sort of license or a new degree. In the other corner is dad’s collection of strange human things, the most notable being the mannequin. When you were younger, that stupid thing scared the hell out of you and dad had the gall to laugh about it before giving in and comforting you. The wooden dummy is garbed in what dad calls armor, but you’ve never seen armor like it before, as it’s nothing like the shining gold of the Royal Guard. So much stiff, blotchy, mismatched forest-colored fabric, interlocking buckles, so many pouches of weird sizes. Bits here and there in the arms, shins, and chest have what feels like metal plates under the fabric, and the open-faced helmet exposes the dummy’s blank wooden face to the world. It weighs so much and looks so cumbersome that you have lingering doubts dad actually wore this get-up at all, even if he says he did. Above that in a locked glass case, is dad’s [rifle]. There is no Equestrian word for [rifle], nor is there a word for its classification as a [gun], so you have to refer to it in English. He said it’s a weapon, but refused to say more. You can plainly see where it is supposed to be gripped like a crossbow. You can almost feel the sensation of what holding it would be like in the phantom fingers your human-side sometimes thinks you have. The odd ghostly sensation makes your spine tingle, and looking at both the armored dummy and the [rifle] makes you vaguely uneasy. There are other things in the corner, like a hilariously wrong world map dad drew from memory, some photos of dad’s late family and places from Earth, a few journals written in English, and a locked trunk you’ve never seen the inside of. No matter how many times you've asked or how hard you’ve begged, dad refused to open it. Your eyes move over to the photos from Earth, to one of your grandparents. It’s heavily faded, but the two humans are smiling and holding a much-younger Anonymous Sr, probably younger than you. He looks grumpy in the picture, and like always it makes you smile but still feel a strange mix of emotion that you don't really have a name for. From the front room, you hear the muffled sound of the front door opening. “I’m home!” Dad’s booming voice announces. You look away from the photos to turn to the door. “In the den, Dad!” It only takes Dad a dozen or so strides to reach the den, and you can’t help but blink when you see his outfit. Normally Dad wears something modest yet casual, but now he’s clad in a black, long-sleeved shirt that hugs his arms and torso tightly, showing off every line on his body. Below that is a set of rough pants the same blotchy, forest color as the armor on the mannequin, and you see a few spots where tears in the pants have been sewn up. His feet have plain brown boots worn from use, but you’ve never seen them before. ‘Oh Faust the girls are going to go apeshit when they see this,’ you think, looking at Dad’s torso. ”Oh, admiring the photos again?” Dad asks with a knowing smile, stepping closer. “Yeah,” you reply, turning back to the one of Dad’s parents. “The one with you looking grumpy is always a laugh and a half.” He lets out several deep laughs. “Ha! You’re not the first to say that. Your granduncle, who went by the name Peewee, told me when I was your age that cameras steal souls. Right before this picture, he finally told me it was a joke and I was sour the entire day.” “And you believed him?” You ask, looking up at Dad incredulously. ”I did,” he says with one final laugh. “Uncle Peewee had a silver tongue and used it only for evil.” You snort and turn back to the pictures. “Dad?” ”Hmm?” “What were grandma and grandpa like?” For a long second, Dad doesn't answer, then he reaches out and touches the glass of the picture frame, rubbing away some dust with a finger. “They were… intense, [daughter dearest],” he begins wistfully. “We were a poor family without much to our name. They both worked to support me and my sister, your aunt. They wished us to have better lives than they did, so their love was strict, seemingly unfair, or even harsh at times. Your aunt and I thought they hated us sometimes and were taking their misery out on us. I was your age when I ran away from home the first and last time. I spent four days in the cold winter before I gave up and returned home. Do you know what happened when I returned home?” You shake your head, too caught up in the story to talk. ”Both of your grandparents fell to their knees, praising [the Lord] that I returned home safe, and saying aloud how they [loved] me. That was the first time I ever saw either of them shed tears,” Dad says quietly, picking the picture up and kneeling at your side. He drapes an arm across your back and pulls you into a half-hug that you step into. With the warmth of Dad’s side seeps into you as he continues. “It’s only now that they’re gone and that I have you, your brother, and your mother do all the things they taught me make sense. It’s only now do I really appreciate them. They were the best sort, and I can only hope I do as good a job with you as they did with me.” You’re silent for a second as all the emotions inside you settle. “I think you're the best dad there is.” Dad lets out a single laugh. It’s a short thing, just a sharp exhale through his nose as he hugs you a little tighter. “Thank you, [daughter dearest]. It means the world to me.” After what you feel is an appropriate time to be mushy with your Dad (IE about 5 seconds), you pull away. “Ready to go?” He gives you the same sharp-toothed grin you see in the mirror each morning, eyes dancing with an eager light. “Of course. Let’s be off, the great outdoors call!” Author's Note A big thanks to all my patrons for bankrolling my writing. https://www.patreon.com/fuggmann A Camping We Will Go! (3)Dad loops an arm around one of the straps of his backpack and lifts it with ease. The action makes the flexing of his muscles against his skin-tight black shirt all the more obvious. You should have packed some air freshener, because you know your friends are going to stink-out the tent with the smell of horny filly. Once his backpack is in place, Dad fingers the straps, tightening one, then smiles down at you. “Lead the way, [daughter dearest].” After stopping to grab your filly scout hat, badge sash, and bag, and once more to lock the front door, you and Dad start out to the schoolhouse Dad hums a nameless tune under his breath as he walks, taking one slow, long step for every 3 or 4 of yours. No one really pays you or Dad any mind other than a few younger mares, but he said when he first moved into town, he’d get stares from all over. “Have you been camping a lot, Dad?” You ask, looking at his gigantic bag again. ”Indeed I have,” He smiles and nods. “It was a pleasurable pastime for myself and my friends when we were your age. Ah, we were a bit, how do you say? Boneheaded? Boneheaded sometimes, however. More than once we underpacked and had to subsist on the land, or return home embarrassed. We learned quick to cook well.” You can't help but snort and smirk. “Really? You forgot food of all things? That was the first thing we packed for this trip.” ”Not always food,” Dad looks away, faintly embarrassed. “Sometimes other things. Rope, tinder, or even the cardinal sin of forgetting a good knife. Listen well, [mini-me], for few tools are as valuable as a reliable bit of steel. I will teach you this weekend.” You scoff and roll your eyes. “The Fillyscouts don’t give us real knives, Dad. Too dangerous, they said.” You kick a bit of grass with a hoof. “What a load of...” You stop yourself short. He smiles. “Oh? Too dangerous? Nonsense. A knife is a tool most valued by outdoorsmen. Prove yourself to me this weekend, Junior, and I will see you with one of your own.” 'What?' You look up at Dad, who smiles widely down at you. You scan his face for any sign of him pulling your hoof, but his expression does not waver. “For real?” ”For real,” he promises. ...Holy hell, he’s for real. Excitement bubbles up in you, and you can’t hold back the smile that creeps up your muzzle. “...Hey, Dad? When was the last time I told you that I love you?” He throws his head back and laughs. You and Dad keep walking, and before long, the schoolhouse comes into view. You recognize a few parents of your classmates already heading the same way ”What in Celestia’s name..?” ”Hmm?” Dad stops and turns to the side, prompting you to stop as well. Just a little ways off is Rarity, the town tailor, Sweetie Belle, who stands in her Fillyscout outfit like you, and a wide-eyed, slack-jawed, Twilight Sparkle, the librarian that dad warned you about. Her eyes are locked with Dad’s. You feel your muzzle scrunch up at the way the purple unicorn is looking at your old man, so you step in front of him and tuft up, daring her to do something. Rarity is quick to whisper to Twilight. “Twilight, please, that's terribly rude of you to stare like that,” she mutters, making Twilight blink and close her mouth. Rarity then looks to you and Dad with a smile. “Mister Heart! Junior! It’s a delight to see you!” “Hiya, Miss Rarity,” you greet blandly, letting your tuft deflate. You know the colty mare pretty well considering that she’s a family friend. Dad used to foalsit her when her family would go on trips, and now she’s Dad’s first choice for a tailor. Oh, and she’s never let her crush on Dad fade, even after he married Mom, making things kinda awkward sometimes… Now that you think about it, dad has lived in Ponyville for about 15 years, long enough to give a lot of mares now in their 20s janegirl kinks. You physically hiss and kill that train of thought. ”Good afternoon, Rarity,” Dad smiles brightly. “You’re looking as lovely as ever. Is this your sister that you were telling me about?” He asks, waving a hand at a bug-eyed Sweetie Belle. “Once more, I am astounded that your family produces nothing but beautiful young mares.” Sweetie Belle’s face instantly burns a bright red that almost glows against her white coat, making you scowl. Great. Another one. Rarity wiggles on her hooves like a little colt with a giggle and nudges her sister. “Indeed! Mother, Father, and Sweetie Belle here moved back into town at the start of the school year. Say hello to Mister Heart, Sweetie.” ”E-Erm, Hi Mister Heart,” she squeaks out, still blushing and unable to look him in the eye. Dad’s pearly smile makes her squeak again and look away, then he looks at Twilight Sparkle, his smile waning and eyes narrowing just a little, too little for anyone but you to notice. “Where are my manners today? How remiss of me to not greet your friend, Rarity,” he says, inclining his head. “My name is Anonymous Heart Senior, ma’am, might I know yours?” The unicorn finally blinks her violet eyes and stops staring. “O-Oh, uh, Twilight. Er, Sparkle. Twilight Sparkle, I mean! I’m the library… Librarian! The librarian who moved in a few weeks ago! That's me!” She verbally trips over herself with a nervous laugh and rubs one foreleg with the other when dad lets out an amused huff. “It’s nice to meet you?” “[That sounded like a question,]” you snark, making Sweetie and Twilight look at you in confusion. A second later, Dad flicks your ear. “Ow!” You reach up and hoof your smarting ear. ”It’s rude to speak of someone in another tongue when they do not understand, daughter o’ mine,” he says with a click of his tongue. “Allow me to introduce my daughter, Miss Sparkle. Please meet Anonymous Heart Junior, my precious firstborn.” “Just Junior is fine,” you grumble, the sting in your ear finally gone. “I’d say it's nice to meet you, but I’d be lying after watching you gape at my old man like that.” ”Junior,” Dad sharply warns. ”No no no, that's okay!” Sparkle insists, waving a hoof frantically. “That was rude of me, I’m sorry! I’ve just never seen a…” “Human,” You roll your eyes and throw her a bone. ”-Humaane before.” Sparkle finishes, looking between both you and Dad. Dad hums and rubs his chin. “I hail from an isolated and xenophobic land, Miss Sparkle. I am likely the only human you will ever meet. I’ve kept an ear to the ground for news of another human leaving the old country for over a decade and heard nothing, and thus I expect it to remain so.” He adjusts his backpack. “Forgive my curt answer, but I am to mind my daughter and her friends for a fillyscout trip, and we are due at the meeting point soon.” Sparkle tilts her head, and you can see her thoughts churning. “A stallion on a camping trip? Will his group be teamed with yours, Rarity?” She turns to her fellow unicorn. Rarity just waves a hoof. “Certainly not, Twilight. Mister Heart needs no help. If anything, WE may ask HIM for help.” Sparkle smiles at hearing that. “That's really forward-thinking of you, Rarity.” 'You bitch.' Dad’s fingertip just barely brushing your ear makes you hold back the vitriol on your tongue. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Sparkle. I’m in need of some new reading material, so perhaps we could talk more the next time I stop by the library?” The unicorn smiles a little more. “I’d enjoy that.” After saying a short goodbye, Sparkle trots off on another errand, leaving you, Dad, Rarity, and Sweetie Belle to trot the rest of the way to the school. As you walk, Sweetie Belle sidles up to your side. “Hey Junior?” She asks quietly. “Eh?” You grunt. Sweetie looks over at her sister and your Dad, who are too caught up in a conversation about sewing of all things to pay you or Sweetie any mind. Rarity’s magic pulls at one of the rough stitches on Dad’s pants as she groans with dismay. Dad just laughs. After a few seconds of silence, you glare at the smaller filly. “What? Spit it out already.” She flinches. “Uh, is he really your dad? I know you said your dad wasn’t a pony, but I didn’t expect…” She trails off. You snort. “You think I’m the strongest filly in class because I work out or something? Hell no, it’s all human blood, baby,” you say with a proud smile. ”If you're not adopted, shouldn't you be, like, part hyumane or something?” Sweetie struggles to pronounce ‘human’. “You look like a normal pony... mostly.” “Something about magic in the womb and hybrid… something something,” you shrug, not really remembering the explanation that Mom gave you. “Both me and my brother have his eyes and teeth, so, I dunno. It just works.” Sweetie doesn’t seem satisfied by the answer, but you don’t really care. The schoolhouse comes into view, and you can already see most everyone there. There are about sixteen fillyscouts with three moms between them...Make that two moms and one mareservant, as you can see a bored pegasus mare with a ladle cutie mark and a full backpack standing with Diamond Tiara’s troupe. Her servant get-up makes it really obvious. Off to the side, you spy Apogee, Zala, and Luftkrieg in one group, and Applebloom and Scootaloo in another. ...And a little further off, you see Scoutmaster Sweet Biscuit standing in her scoutmaster uniform overseeing everything. No homo, Sweet is a pretty mare. A light beige coat, wavey gold mane and tail, bright green eyes, and a colty talent in baking cookies should have made her at least a second pick for a stallion wanting a herd... Or she would be a high pick if she didn’t have an overbearing, downright patronizing view on guys. A lot of stallions are emotional, and some are just dumb and need a mare to hoofhold them through life, but Sweet is guffaw-worthy. You vividly recall how she tried to talk down to Apogee’s dad, who is a literal aeronautics engineer, at the last scout meeting. No wonder Sweet is stuck as a fillyscout master thirsting after easily scared dads. Oh well. Pathetic is as pathetic does. “We’ll see you two in the woods!” Rarity smiles and wave a hoof and you and Dad as her horn glows. Then with a flash of blue light and a ‘pop!’ She summons a ridiculously old-timey tweed dress, a tweed cap, and a whole locked trunk of what is probably clothes. Sweetie Belle flushes when a few fillies point and laugh, and both Applebloom and Scootaloo slowly walk to Rarity with resigned cringes on their faces. Your friends, meanwhile, trot up to you and Dad with grins, and Dad in-turn grins back. ”A pleasure to see you girls again so soon,” He says, planting his hands on his hips as he looks down at them. “Ready for the weekend?” ”Yes, Mister Heart!” Luft shakes her full saddle-bags. “We’re ready!” ”That the spirit!” He laughs deeply and shifts his backpack around. Luft, Zala, and Apogee’s eyes instantly train themselves on the rolling abdominal muscles in Dad’s core. “Fucking…” You screw your eyes shut. 'It's going to be a long weekend.' ”Is everypony here?” You, Dad, and your friends turn. It looks like Scoutmaster Sweet decided to start everything. The mare trots forward imperiously with her head held high. Her horn glows a faint green and levitates a slip of paper from behind her filled-to-bursting badge sash. Sweet’s eyes travel over everyone gathered, lingering for a moment on Dad. She looks down at her slip of paper with a frown. “Team Two, where is your chaperone?” “My old mare is busy, so I brought my dad,” You respond. Sweet’s frown grows and she trots up like she’s Celestia herself, planting herself right before Dad. “So you’re Mister Heart?” You hold back a snicker at the image of Sweet trying to intimidate your dad when he’s literally twice her height. Dad just smiles pleasantly. “Indeed I am, Scoutmaster. Please forgive the sudden change, as my wife was called away to work this weekend, and my daughter asked me to fill in.” Sweet lets out a long-suffering sigh as if Dad’s presence rains on her parade. “Fine, I suppose we can let a stallion come along.” She turns and trots back to the front of the group. “Just follow along with what I say and we’ll get you through the weekend in one piece, honey. Team Two, change in plans. When we head out, you’re at the front of the line between myself and Team One.” At your side, Zala blinks. “What? We’re not going to get lost that easily.” ”Rude…” Apogee murmurs. You’re really looking forward to seeing the smug look wiped off of Sweet’s face. The hike to the Whitetail Woods isn’t very long, less than two miles from the schoolhouse, but Sweet loudly INSISTED on no less than four breaks along the way for the “Stallion in the group”, making the trip much longer than needed and earning your group more than a few annoyed looks. Dad tried to wave her off, but Sweet would have none of it. Cunt. ”Okay, scouts and parents!” Sweet cries as the campground comes into view. “Your spots are marked with your team numbers. Get your tents set up, and give me a holler if you need any help,” she says, giving Dad a pointed look. You grumble some choice words under your breath. You were tempted to let them fly, but hold it back. In the tree-framed clearing, you spy a clear dirt circle in the grass with a tall stone embedded into the ground nearby. There is a large “4” carved on it, and Diamond Tiara’s clique waltzes in to take it with the still expressionless mareservant following. It doesn’t take you long to find spot 2, and your friends and Dad find it at roughly the same time, so everyone moves as a group. ”Hrm…” Dad rubs his chin as he surveys the flat patch of dirt, then up at the afternoon sun. “Not what I had in mind, but rather easy.” ”Is something wrong, Mr. Heart?” Zala asks, craning her neck up to look at him. Dad waves her concern away. “Nothing, my dear. I was expecting the terrain to be, how do you say? Less agreeable?” He shrugs. “Oh well. It matters little.” He takes his backpack off and drops it to the dirt with an impressive ‘thud’. “First thing is first, girls. Shelter should be set-up before sundown. Fumbling with a tent is no fun in the dark.” ”Erm…” Apogee, the one carrying the team’s tent, looks back at the bundle on her back with a measure of distress. “Ahh… Mr. Heart, I… Uh, I don’t mean this to be offensive, but I don’t think the tent... will be big enough sorry if that was kinda meanitwasn'taboutyourweighthonest!” She quickly blurts out. Dad lets out an amused huff. “It’s no matter, my dear,” he smiles. “I figured it would be inappropriate for a grown man to share a tent with four young mares like yourselves. Ho ho, good thing I brought my own tent, or I might not be able to help myself around your pretty friends, [mini-me]!” You blink. “What…?” You, Zala, Apogee, and Luftkrieg all blush nuclear red. Your friends probably because of the dirty thoughts running through their heads, and you because of how god-damn embarrassing this man is sometimes. ”I jest, girls,” Dad chuckles and bends down to open his bag. The buckles almost fly off and nail him in the face from how overfilled the thing is. “You are indeed pretty young mares, but a bit young for me. Now, if you were a bit older and I a bit younger…” “[Dad, enough teasing them already!]” You look at Apogee, Luft, and Zala, and are horrified to see them standing awkwardly with their muzzles still painted red and their tails flagging. You throw your forelegs around them and drag them a few yards away with a trio of yelps for the effort. “Cut the thoughts about rutting my dad, now!” You growl quite literally. The noise cuts through the fog in their brains and returns your friend’s senses to them. “Let's get this damn tent set up and get through this weekend, okay?” All three nod, still stealing glances at your old man, who wears an infuriatingly amused smirk. Apogee shrugs the tent bag off of her back, and all of you shed your saddlebags. You unzip the tent bag, then you and the girls each take a corner, pulling it out until the cheap nylon tent lays flat. Now for the tricky part; Getting the support rods that actually hold the tent up through the loops across the roof of the tent. If you’re not a unicorn, this is always a pain in the ass. ”Is there not a way to make this easier?” Apogee groans as the segmented, fiberglass rod she and Luft are trying to shimmy through one of the loops gets caught in the loop and bunches it up, again. The yellow pegasus grumbles and pulls the rod away again, unbunching the fabric before trying again even slower. ”Well, we’re doing better than some…” Luftkrieg spits her end of the rod out and points a wing to team 3. You look and snort. ”Ah’m sure it’s supposed to go this way!” ”But that's going to rip a hole in the floor!” ”We’re never gunna get camping cutie marks at this rate…” ”Girls! Please! There are instructions on the inside of the bag!” Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and a frazzled-looking Rarity are really struggling to set up their tent. Zala shakes her head as she stomps the last tent stake into place, making her dreadlocks bounce. “Not much of a tent, but perhaps they could get cutie marks in abstract art?” You laugh and drop the rain tarp you were straightening with your mouth. “Ouch! Way to lay into them!” The zebra blinks her purple eyes innocently. “I was being serious, though…?” ”If they’re having that much trouble…” Apogee grins when she finally gets the first rod through a support loop. “Shouldn't have Scoutmaster Sweet gone over to help them?” She asks, looking around for the unicorn. ”Mister Heart! Having trouble?” You and your friends turn, finding your kneeling Dad carefully cutting paracord with a large, fixed-blade knife. In front of him is a very stern-looking Sweet, and behind him is a simple, mostly-completed triangle tent of green canvas. Ah, of course. Leave the floundering fillies alone to harass a stallion. A very Sweet thing to do. ”Your concern is most appreciated, Scoutmaster,” Dad smiles and cuts one last length of cord in his hand, giving him four of the same length “But I am fine. I merely needed appropriately sized tie-downs for my shelter. The ones that came with the tent were mis-sized.” Sweet shakes her head and clicks her tongue. “Honey, look. If you needed something like that, you should have had one of your fillyscouts or myself do it. There’s no need for a stallion to be handling sharp objects,” she says, giving the knife in Dad’s hand a disapproving look. Dad just raises an eyebrow. “I see. I will keep that in mind for next time, Scoutmaster. Your wisdom is appreciated,” his eyes wander to Team 3, who look five seconds away from an inter-team brawl. “Perhaps you could assist Team 3 as well? It seems as though they could use your expertise.” How he said that with a straight face, you have no idea. Sweet nods, a self-satisfied smile creeping up on her face. Then she turns and trots to Rarity’s group. “Team 3! Just what are you doing?!” Dad turns and gives you an amused smile before standing and sheathing his knife at his hip. He must have dug the knife out of his bag when he opened it, as you don’t recall seeing it before then. “Would you girls like assistance in finishing your tent?” He asks, moving to tie down the corners of his own tent with the newly-cut cord in his hands. Apogee and Luft finally drop the second support rod to the tent after their twelfth failure. “Zhat would be appreciated, Mr. Heart,” Luftkrieg’s germane accent thickens from her frustration. “I don’t know what we’re doing wrong!” Dad stands and walks over, taking one look at the “Colemare” tag on the tent before he hisses. “Ah, these,” His voice and expression drip with disdain. “We had tents like these in the old country. Not worth the materials they’re made of, truly. This will be fine for this weekend, but I will be getting you girls an actual tent should you wish to camp again.” He sighs. “[Fucking Coleman. Following me here?]” He mutters in English. “Anyway, there is a trick to these. Let me show you.” He crouches down and takes the still unthreaded fiberglass rods in his hand. “Now I will need someone to hold the loop in the middle up just a little.” Luftkrieg is quick to make a fluttering jump to the middle of the flat tent. Like Dad asked, she takes the loop in her teeth and pulls it up just an inch. ”Wonderful!” Dad gives her a toothy smile, dusting Luft’s white muzzle with pink. “Now, we need only wiggle it like so…” He shakes the rod rapidly, but not so rapidly that the segments come apart, then feeds it through the loop. Like magic, it comes out the other side without snagging even once. “You can get off the tent now, Miss Luftkrieg. Junior? Miss Zala? Can you clip the rods into the corners there?” You and Zala share a look then do as Dad asked. It’s easy since there’s no tension on the rods yet. ”And finally…” Dad takes both rods in each hand and with a movement almost too fast to track, bends the rods and clips the final two corners into place, making the tent pop up like a spell brought it to life. “Easy!” ”Wow, that had to be a record!” Apogee beams. You look around, and sure enough, Team 2 is the first team done. Sweet is still trying to undo the clusterbuck that Rarity’s misfits managed, Teams 1 and 5 are still trying, even with their moms helping. Team 4… You look at Diamond Tiara’s tent, which is more like a small house, as it assembles itself with a cooked-in animation spell. Tiara and her pals just stand around and talk, pointing hooves and laughing at Team 3. “Whatever...” Author's Note A big thanks to all my patrons for bankrolling my writing. https://www.patreon.com/fuggmann A Camping We Will Go! (4)”Perhaps we should help your friends with team 3?” You and your friends turn to Dad, who is watching Sweet unsuccessfully pull apart the mess Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo created. The Scoutmaster grits her teeth and yanks at a knot in the tent with her magic, doing little but make the fabric groan and strain. Rarity, meanwhile, is frantically reading the worn pamphlet of instructions to the tent off to the side. From how her brow is sweating, you’re guessing she’s not really finding anything that can help. The Troublemaker Trio are still bickering… Well, Applebloom and Scootaloo are. Sweetie Belle is tangled in the tent somehow and just lays limp, resigned to her fate. Dad crosses his arms and hums deep in his chest. “They seem to have made quite the kerfuffle.” ”Erm…” Apogee is the first to answer. She flutters her wings unsurely and paws the dirt. “Do you want to help, Mister Heart?” Dad answers by walking over, stepping over Luft and Zala with one extra-long stride. With a sigh, you look over to the girls. “C’mon. Let's go run interference if Sweet tries to send him off.” You trot after Dad, and Luft, Zala, and Apogee fall into step with you. Rarity looks up as Dad’s shadow covers her, and the relief that washes over her face is immediate. “Anonymous, thank goodness!” She sets the pamphlet in her magic back in the tent bag and trots a few steps closer, meeting Dad at the edge of Team 2’s spot. “The girls got a little overeager, and, well…” ”I see…” Dad nods. “May I?” He gestures at the mess with a hand. ”I think this one is a little above you, sweety,” Sweet huffs and yanks the knot in her telekinetic grip again. Now that you’re closer, you can see that two of the corners of the tent are tied in a simple overhoof knot, but Sweet just can’t get it loose. ”Applebloom must have yanked it tightly if Sweet can’t undo it,” Zala says exactly what’s on your mind. The zebra frowns just a little. “Will Mister Heart be able to-” Dad ignores Sweet and steps in, bending over to better reach... and despite his pants being loose, it leaves almost nothing to the imagination if you’re looking at him from behind. ”Holy hay, you could bounce a bit off a rump like that…” You hear Scootaloo whisper to Applebloom, who desperately looks everywhere else while a full-face blush travels down her neck. Behind them, Rarity pretends to not notice, but you know she’s looking. ”No joke.” Apogee quietly agrees with a nod and a pink muzzle. You scowl and stomp on her hoof, making your pegasus pal replace her grin with a pained wince. “What did I say about dirty fantasies?!” You harshly whisper. Meanwhile, Dad takes the knot in his hands and pinches each side before he pulls with just his wrists. The knot resists for about half a second, making the tendons and muscles in Dad’s hand stand up. Then the knot unravels with a sharp ‘clang!’ when the securing loops on the corners deflect off each other. Dad then reaches into the remaining tangled bits of the tent, and Sweetie Belle squeaks when he grabs her with a single hand by the scruff of her neck. He gently pulls her from the tent like a blushing kitten and sets her down. Finally, he lifts the edges of the tent with a quick flourish, laying it out in a nearly perfect square. ”There we go!” He grins and stands. “Now, how about you girls give it another go under Madam Scoutmaster’s expert eye?” The flattery just barely keeps Sweet's sexist temper in check. She chews on her words as if they were sour. “Thank you, Mister Heart… I’ll see to it from here…” She exhales sharply and turns her venom-green eyes to Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Applebloom, who all freeze up. “From the top, girls.” Dad bows out, so you and the girls follow him back to your spot, looking back as Sweet painstakingly guides the CMC through putting up their tent. After making sure that Team 3’s tent is up and not going to spontaneously combust, Sweet Biscuit huffs and trots to the middle of the field between all the packed-dirt camping spots. “Okay, scouts and parents!” She shouts, making all eyes turn to her. “We’re going to get our bonfire ready to go before it gets too dark,” she says, waving a beige hoof to the center of the campground where a ring of stones sit around a mound of ash. “This is going towards your woodcutting merit badge. Everypony is to bring back one log no less than one hoof wide, and no more than three hooves long. Be careful with your saw! Call me over once you have it, and I’ll watch you split it! Remember the wood types we discussed at the last meeting!” ”Wood types?” You blink. “I don’t remember that one…” ”You fell asleep at that meeting, Junior,” Zala gives you a sidelong glance. “I can’t really blame you, though. The Scoutmaster was… rather dry in her delivery of the subject.” Apogee shakes her head. “How hard could it be? It’s just firewood. It’s everywhere when you’re in a forest.” She trots over to where her saddlebags are laid out and pokes her muzzle inside, returning with her folded saw a second later. “Easy!” She mumbles past the plastic handle. A deep chuckle draws you and your friend’s eyes to Dad. “You would be surprised, Miss Apogee,” he says, leaning down and unstrapping his hatchet from the side of his backpack. He straps the hatchet to his belt and turns to you and the girls again. “You cannot just cut down any wood to use. Fresh wood or rotted wood will be a pain to burn, and some softwoods like pine burn hot, but burn fast and are very smokey due to the sticky resin in the wood.” He reaches down into his bag again and this time withdraws a folded map in one hand and a compass that looks tiny in his other hand. “We’ll venture out for something nice, yes? Has the good Scoutmaster taught you girls land navigation yet?” ”I don’t believe so, Mister Heart.” Luft shakes her head and flutters her wings in a nervous tic. “That's only for the 5th and 6th year scouts.” ”Hrm,” Dad looks down at the map and compass before shrugging. “Understandable. I’ll plot our course this time. Next time, I’ll teach you girls. I suppose the land is flat and forgiving here, so any lessons would not stick well. I did not bring all the supplies, anyway, like my… My…” He stops and thinks, eyes looking around as he tries to find the word. “My half-circle... math tool? [Protractor]. The word escapes me right now.” “Protractor is the word you want, dad.” You help your floundering old man out then raise an eyebrow. “Why would we need one for a map?” Dad looks at you like you grew a horn and wings, then throws his head back and roars in laughter. The noise is so loud it echoes off the trees and makes everyone in the campground look, making you want to shrink with a cringe. “Oh, my sweet child,” he wipes a tear away and smiles so wide that it has to hurt. “My sweet, begging-to-be-lost child. One day, you will learn. Until that day, I gladly guide you.” The old man gets his laughter under control and clears his throat. “Okay, let us begin.” He unfolds the map and pops open the comically small compass. After a second of staring at the map, he nods. “I think I have our orientation. Let us be off!” After a short hike to the north, where you totally didn’t fume the entire time as all three of your friends stared at your dad’s ass, Dad stops everyone at a small junction of paths. ”If my skills have not dulled too much…” He glances between his map and compass. “Then ahead should be a clearing where the weather team accidentally let a whirlwind touch down some time ago. The damage should have felled some trees and left us with much dead oak to work with.” ”Whirlwind? As in a tornado?” Zala asks, leaning to the side of the single-file line to peer past Dad’s legs. ”Yeah, my dad said the weather team lost control of a stormfront a few months ago and it ripped up some of the woods.” Apogee nods her head rapidly. “I didn’t really notice it, though.” “The snooty part of town has a weather ward or something.” You turn to Apogee. “It dulls anything harsh like wind and storms I noticed.” You flick an ear when you remember the odd tickling feeling of walking through the invisible dome. “Remember that night when we were at your place and that Everfree storm rolled in? The one the weather team kinda just gave up on?” ”Hey, yeah…" Apogee rubs her round face with a hoof as she thinks back. “It didn’t seem all that bad.” ”Is there truly magic making a weather ward there?” Luftkrieg turns to you with surprise written on her face. “How do you know that?” Dad starts walking again, and everyone quickly scrambles to get back in line and keep up. “That, girls, would be the blood of man in [mini-me],” Dad says with a smile. “One can feel it in their veins and their spine, feel the [heebie-jeebies] when magic is afoot.” ”The [hrebjnighsj-jerenighs]?” You wince when Zala hopelessly mangles the english coming out of her mouth. “It just means an uneasy feeling, is all,” you say, looking back at her. ”Oh wow…” You turn back and stop abruptly so you don’t run into Luftkrieg. Then you look around and feel your eyes widen at the scene of devastation around you. Dad wasn’t joking. The tornado several months ago ripped and broke the trees all around, leaving a mangled field with a hole in the canopy letting the slowly setting sun stream in. The plants have already begun to reclaim the damage, leaving many of the fallen trees wrapped with vines and surrounded by stubborn green seedlings. Dad carefully steps around the seedlings as he walks to the nearest fallen tree, one roughly as thick around as your barrel. “Take care not to trample the small trees, girls,” he warns as he draws his hatchet with his right hand. “They will grow up to heal this place. It would reflect well upon us to be respectful.” He taps the side of one of the dead trees with the side of his hatchet, then he lifts and drives the hatchet deep into the side of the wood with a resounding THUNK that you can feel in your chest. ”Dry and dead,” He smiles and yanks his hatchet free. “Go on, girls. Collect your wood. I’ll bring a bit back myself just in case it’s needed.” He lifts the hatchet and in single swipes, begins hacking off smaller limbs on the fallen tree. You roll your eyes, already knowing he’s going to bring a whole damn tree with him. “C’mon girls, let's get to work.” You dip your muzzle into your saddlebag and pull out the crumby folding saw that the Fillyscouts provide and look around. ”How about this one?” Apogee makes a fluttering hop over a patch of tall grass to a decently thick tree limb on the ground, one long enough to give you, her, Zala, and Luft all a log between the lengths that Sweet stressed. You get to sawing on one end, already knowing the crappy, wobbling, chineighs saw is going to take forever to actually cut through. Back and forth, back and forth. Already you can feel a crick in your neck and the rubber mouthpiece tastes terrible. While you and your friends are sawing, Zala, Luftkrieg, and Apogee keep flinching when Dad brings his hatchet down like thunder about 20 feet away. You just pin your ears back and keep working. Dad finishes his log in just under half a minute. When you hear him mutter “oops” and see his hatchet blast through the log one last time, this time kicking up dirt rather than wood chips, you know he’s done. He lifts the log and places it over his shoulder, waiting for you and your friends to finish. You growl and saw faster, but the crummy saw just keeps getting caught on nothing and it’s really starting to piss you off. A look at your friends shows they’re just as frustrated as you. Zala has abandoned finesse and is just sawing as hard as she can, which is pretty hard. Like you, her saw just keeps getting stuck. To her credit though, she’s keeping her cool better than you and only looks exasperated. Poor Apo and Luft are even worse off. The pegasi just don't have the muscle of an earth pony or a zebra, so their efforts are shaving away so little wood that they’re barely a third of the way in. Luftkrieg is going steady, but a well-to-do filly like Apogee just has no stamina and is slowing down as frothy sweat begins to build upon her neck. She lets out a whine, and you see Dad start looking for a place to set his log down so he might come help. Damn it! You're not having him do everything like you’re some kind of daddy’s filly! A traitorous part of your mind tells you that you are a daddy’s filly, but you ignore it in favor of spitting your saw out, which makes a cheap-sounding clatter against a rock. “Zala, Luft, Apo, back up a sec.” You growl and flex the muscles in your legs. Right, then left. Right, then left. Apogee doesn't need to be told twice and leaves her saw jammed in the wood. She pants and sits down, uncaring of her badge sash getting caught under her rump and rubbed in the dirt. Luftkrieg looks at you knowingly and yanks her saw free before setting down by Apogee. Zala, meanwhile, raises an eyebrow. “Are you certain, Junior? I'm fine helping.” You don’t answer, too busy swaying from one side to the other. Like pumps, you can feel the muscles in your legs churning and agitating the earth pony magic in your body like a liquid. You can almost hear it slosh as your head begins to feel light and your body hot. Even the summer air feels chilled in your lungs. Much like dad does when he flexes his own strength, you feel your muscles bulk up and strain against your skin, drawing sharp lines across your green coat as the now raging magic in your body flows like an uncapped dam. You suck in one final breath and hold it so you don’t lose focus. Before Dad makes his way over, you twist and lash out with a single-legged buck, smashing your hoof against the halfway cut section of log and snapping it along the cut with an echoing ‘Crack!’ as if it were a twig. Before your burst of might fades, you hop to Zala’s section and kick again, and once more the wood cracks down the cut with almost no resistance as your hoof bites deeply into the bark, leaving a very clear indent. The breath you sucked in is beginning to burn your lungs, so you jump and strike Luftkrieg and Apogee’s cuts as fast as you can, making two more loud ‘crack!’s and leaving you with four logs. You choke and screw your eyes shut when you cough a gout of hissing steam that makes your throat uncomfortably warm. At once, your strength fades, leaving you feeling hot and achy under your coat, so you don’t object when you feel Luftkrieg come and press herself to your side to keep you steady. “Are you okay, Junior? You didn’t need to go that far…” Luft sounds concerned as she stretches a wing across your back. You do a full-body shake, airing out your green fur with deliciously cool air and sigh. “I’m fine, thanks. There we have it, though. Four logs.” You smirk and turn to Zala and Apogee as Luft backs off, ignoring both Dad’s stare and how your legs feel like lead. “Let's get going.” Everyone sans Dad, who has, as you expected, a small de-limbed tree on his shoulder, take a log and start back down the path Dad marked back to the campsite. As you walk and focus on keeping the log balanced across your back, you fall behind a bit as your legs still ache some. Dad slowly reduces his walking speed until he’s beside you. His foal-ish green eyes look down at you with clear concern, but he’s sure to keep the girls in his peripherals. “[Are you okay, Junior?]” He quietly asks in English. “[You didn’t need to do that. I would have been glad to help.]” You grunt. “[I know, but I don’t want you doing everything. It’s not much of a camping trip if you do all the camping for us. Besides, I’m fine, aren’t I?]” His lips slowly pull downward into a frown, and the expression of worry on his usually smiling face is so strange that guilt gnaws at you. “[You broke your leg last time… It’s why I told you not to do that.]” “[I was just a little filly then,]” You argue, but your voice has much less bite than you intended. “[I can handle it now. Did you expect me to stay a wimp forever?]” ”[A daughter of mine? A wimp? Hah! Never!]” Dad’s amusement quickly bleeds off and returns to being somber as he shifts the giant log on his shoulder. “[But I die a little each time you’re hurt, daughter dearest.]” His tone makes your stomach twist into a knot. “[I feel... like I’ve failed you each time I can’t help you. I know that you won’t always be a little filly, and already you’re growing into a fine young mare, maybe too fast for my taste, but please promise me you’ll be careful with your magic? I’m not mincing words when I say that you’re a miracle, my precious firstborn. If something happened to you, they’d have to cart me to an asylum.]” Gah, Faust damn it all! Damn Dad’s fucked up ability to make you feel like this for winning an argument! You bite your lip and look around at the greenery, not trusting your mouth. After several seconds of silence, you nod your head. Dad’s smile soaks up all the guilt you feel in hardly a second. “That is all I ask.” You hold your nose up without bothering to reply and speed up, matching the pace of your friends. ”What was that about?” Apogee asks, shifting her wings so her log doesn’t fall. “The old man was just worrywarting.” You roll your eyes. “Nothing big.” It doesn't take long to get back to camp, but when your group emerges from the treeline, you see all the other teams already have their wood and are gathered near the firepit as Sweet watches everyone split their logs on a nearby stump. She has to duck when Applebloom wobbles and brings the splitting ax in her hooves down too violently, throwing a lopsided bit of firewood over Sweet’s head. As if she has eyes on the back of her head, Sweet’s head snaps and looks at your team as you all come into view. “Team 2! Where in Tartarus were you?!” She asks, eyes narrowed to angry slits. ”We… were out gathering firewood?” Luftkrieg supplies with a cringe. She shrinks when Sweet only seems to get angrier. ”Who said you could leave the campsite?!” She raises a hoof to pause the Scootaloo, who is standing on her shaky hindlegs with a heavy splitting maul held in her hooves. Sweet practically stomps up and poor pony-pleaser Luft looks almost ready to cry. ”If there is anyone to take your anger out on, Madam Scoutmaster…” Dad calmly steps right over Luftkrieg and shields the pegasus from Sweet’s wrath. “It would be I. I wished to gather quality wood and begin teaching the girls the finer points of land navigation. I did not know leaving the campground was forbidden, and I apologize.” Sweet takes a deep breath and rubs her muzzle with a disgruntled sigh. “Mister Heart, you’re on thin ice. I understand that stallions don't have much in the way of impulse control, but it’s always been a Fillyscout rule to stay in the campsite where a mare can supervise. Don’t. Do. It. Again.” She looks up at the log on his shoulder. “That's longer than Fillyscout hoofbook regulation. Have your scouts cut it down to size and get in line for woodcutting.” Then she turns around and trots back. ”We were barely a 5 minute walk away…” Zala murmurs. “Is it really that much of an issue?” “Power-tripping bitch!” You snarl, not caring that your dad can hear you curse. Gnashing your teeth, you resist the urge to run up and put a rear hoof up Sweet’s ass. “Girls, we broke the rules and Madam Scoutmaster is being very lenient,” Dad coolly waves it off like nothing happened. “Let me break this down, then we get in line,” he says with a nod as he sets one side of his log on the ground. With one hand on the raised end, he braces a boot on the middle and puts his weight down. Crrraaaaccckkkk! ...Then he snaps a hunk of oak as thick around as a small mare with a staccato of cracks and crunches with the same ease he might break a pencil, forcing everyone to look over with wide, startled eyes, Scoutmaster Sweet included. Dad hums to himself as he inspects his now halved log, which is roughly five or so hooves long. “Three hooves is the maximum length, yes?” Zala finds her voice first and clears her throat. “E-erm, yes, Mister Heart.” She looks at the broken and mangled end of the wood in Dad’s hands as she speaks. ”Thank you, Miss Zala,” Dad gives the zebra a warm smile, making her turn pink and look away. Then he raises the still-too-long log and busts it over his knee with a tooth-rattling CRACK! There’s no mistaking the wince on Sweet’s face at the noise, and you can't help but hide a snicker behind a hoof. The others might not notice it, but there’s an oh-so faint smirk on Dad’s lips. ‘I knew the old man wouldn’t take her shit lying down.’ “Did you see the look on the scoutmaster’s face when Mister Heart ripped that log in half?!” ”I don't blame her, really. I knew Mister Heart was strong but oh mare…” The sun has set, and since one of the fillies in one of the other team’s needed six tries to get her woodcutting badge, it left little time around the fire before bedtime. Fire-cooked haydogs were had for dinner and the night was capped by a single goofy campfire song that Scoutmaster Sweet led. For being a cunt, she’s actually got a pretty nice singing voice. The song went well until Team 3 tried to improvise half-way in hoping for singing cutie marks, and well… The less said the better. Your ears still hurt a little. You lay back in your sleeping bag, forelegs curled on your chest as your friends talk quietly in the dark. The night is cool and dry, so you all decided to take the rainfly off so the net-ceiling of the tent lets the breeze and starlight in. The rainfly sits in the corner of the tent along with everyone’s discarded bags, hats, and badge sashes. Just a little bit away, between campsites two and three, you can hear Dad talking to Rarity quietly over the sounds of the crickets. Looking up at the stars makes your mind wander back to earlier today when you were waiting for dad in the den. The map he drew from memory springs to your mind. Idly, you wonder if the constellations are different back in Amareica. If it’s so far away that there’s no hope of going there, it must be really far, far away, like the other side of the planet. ”Hey, Junior?” You shift in your sleeping back and look at the voice, finding Apogee’s pink eyes staring back at you. Besider her, you can see Luft and Zala’s eyes too. “What's up, sis?” ”How did you do the super-strength thing?” Apogee asks, scooting a little closer and making the polyester floor of the tent crinkle. “That was rad what you did in the forest!” Oh, right. Only Zala really knows. Luftkrieg has seen you use it before, but never asked. Apogee has been your friend for the least amount of time at just a few months. “Just earth pony magic is all,” you lay your head in your hooves and stretch out. “If you put human muscles together with magic, you get Supermare. My magic doesn’t flow very fast, though, so I’ve gotta focus and warm it up a bit if I really want to use it all.” Apogee’s mouth drops open into a little “o”. ”Buuuut…” Zala starts knowingly, making you scowl. “Junior, they should know just in case...” Resisting the urge to bare your teeth at the zebra, you keep talking. “But I overheat really fast and can bust myself up if I go full tilt for too long.” “There’s nothing wrong with that!” Apogee jumps in with a wide smile. “Every superpower has to have a weakness!” She wilts a little when everyone turns and looks at her strangely, but mares up and keeps going. “It’s like you in a Marevel movie! A young filly in a small town, born to an alien with superpowers and she gets superpowers of her own!” Even in the dark, it’s easy to see your pegasus pal’s eyes shine. “Oh mare, I gotta go look up if pegasi can learn to do alternative magic like that! Then we can be a whole team of superfillies!” You just wrinkle your muzzle. “I hate capeshit. And my dad’s not an alien.” ”Well, it’s still rather remarkable.” Luftkrieg says, shifting her pillow and laying down chin-first into it. “Mein sister might like to talk to you sometime. Junior. She’s studying genetics and biology at Canterlot University. I didn’t know your heritage was more than cosmetic.” ”You girls still awake?” Dad suddenly asks from outside the tent, making Zala, Luft, and Apo all jump and stifle yelps. You didn’t hear him coming either, but are long since used to how he can creep silently. “You should get to bed. We’re due to awaken bright and early tomorrow.” “Yeah, yeah, we’re heading that way.” You tell him, then move to snuggle deeper into your warm sleeping bag, looking forward to sleeping off the fatigue using your magic left you with. ”Actually, Junior, could you come here for a moment?” He asks, voice now coming from behind the zip-up door. With a long-suffering sigh, you pull yourself from your sleeping bag and walk over to the door before unzipping it. “What do you want, old ma-!?” Dad’s hands move like lightning and snag you up before you can struggle, then you feel him press his lips to your scalp and kiss you with a very embarrassing, very audible smooch that you know your friends hear. “I love you, [mini-me]. Sleep tight.” He chuckles and puts you down before zipping up your tent. You wait, face burning a bright red, until Dad settles in his own tent before turning around and glaring holes into your friends. “Not. A. Word.” All of them are silent as you stomp back to your sleeping bag and roughly drop into it. Then; “If you don’t want it, I’ll volunteer to take his next kiss.” Your pillow hits Zala’s face dead center despite the dark. Author's Note A big thanks to NurseBold, Nicolas H, Tim M, ncskeeter56, Thomas D, Avo, S. Nutter, Lucy B, Lars H, Jesper B, Frogsamurai, Bunny Waffles, Kalafalafakah, Fabhar, Zach C, Dicky W, Sashank U, Patrick I, MidnightJayguar, Tyric Gaias, No Thanks, Michael M, Jeremiah Z, Alex G, Meadow, Spencer S, Taylor V, Jeremy H, Ethan S, Ben, Scott E, Johnathan C, Josh T, marcellis97, Powernap, rooster196, Johnathan D, Sukaleska, Ampharos3, Nick R, Tiemi, Ryan S, Irene, Sarah D, Xegzy, Leaveinlimbo, Zhanibek A, Earthpatriot117, CheesePie25, John T, Thundatwin, Deohn L, TwentyThousandCats, MooMoo195, itsawaffle, Rafael B, Esquire, Ashby T, Mitchell S, Spencer K, Siphon Rayzar, Mrbucky92, ItsCool, wishindo, Sandesh, Obsidianking, Berd, Josh D, ToolsOfTrypticon, Jorge B, Kyle P, Brett T, Cynicalto, Friendship is Carrots, Destin B, Brian T, Tayler, Eriermence, Dominic M, Adian S, C&C, Duncan K, Dylan R, Manowargs, Steven C, and Webmaster for being patrons. An extra big thanks to Drekin, Teigen S, Lennert B, K, Andres, Stays Secret, Paul F, VandheerXLorde, Dusks_Lantern, xydra22, Jordan M, and Sprektomogankai for being high-level patrons. A special thanks to Spartanstoryteller for being a mad-lad level patron. Last but certainly not least, a very special thanks to BrokenOlive, Nekusar, and Konrule for being top-level patrons. (I’m seriously stunned that there are three of you) The WatchAuthor's Note A big thanks to my patrons for supporting my passion https://www.patreon.com/fuggmann The Watch You are Anonymous Junior. It’s Tuesday afternoon, a few hours after school let out, and a few days after your fillyscout trip. Scoutmaster Sweet proved that she wasn’t hopelessly dense after seeing Dad casually rip a log in half, biting her tongue and keeping her sexism to herself for a whopping full day. You’re sure she screamed into a pillow or something when she got home. That's neither here nor there, though. Anyway, you’re sitting on the couch at home. Mom and Dad are out on a date, and your little brother Redcross is up in his room doing colt stuff… you think. That leaves you vegging out in front of the TV as yet another shitty commercial tries to shill something only an idiot would buy. ”That's right, ladies! A perfect gift this Hearth's Warming season for the mister!” A grinning, middle-aged pegasus mare behind a kitchen counter croons into the camera. She waves a wing down at the overpriced, shiny copper cookware set arranged before her. With the studio lights fixed on the pots and pans, the stock sparkling effect they probably added in during the editing is overkill. “Non-stick and E-Z-Clean™or your money back! I’m so confident in this deal, that we’re slashing the price and waving the shipping and handling!” The salesmare points to the corner of the screen, where the 99.99₿ price tag is crossed out and replaced with 49.99₿. “Send your mail order to-” Bored, you let your hoof fall on the Channel Up button on the remote, moving up to some trashy soap. ”What… What did I do?” A haggard-looking mare on-screen stares up at her dirty ceiling as she lays in bed. On her old nightstand is an empty liquor bottle and a crushed cigarette box, making the grayscale of the video take the ‘gloomy’ factor to a level that's just cheesy. “I let him go… Why? Why did I say all of that!?” The haggard mare reaches for the liquor bottle, only to look at it in dismay when she realizes it’s empty. With a growl that has entirely too much effort, the hallmark of a C-list actor, she throws it across the room where it shatters on the wall. The glass breaking sound effect is so obviously stock that you cringe. You watch a grand total of ten more seconds before groaning. Your green eyes fall to the Pretendo Gamebrick on the lower level of the TV stand, but you’ve beaten every game you own. “C’mon. Can’t there be something good on?!” ”But Willow Wood is good, sissy. ” You turn towards the voice, barely hearing the dainty hoofsteps on the carpet. Standing in the doorway of the living room with a big smile on his face is your brother, Redcross. If you took more after Dad, then Red takes more after Mom. His mane and tail are a bright maroon, a few shades darker than Mom’s pink, and his eyes are a little lighter than Mom’s, being a ghostly blue. On his flank is his cutie-mark, a rarity for somepony only ten-years-old, and it’s the same as his namesake. That is, a red medical cross overlayed with the… the snake-staff thing, you forget the name. His smooth, light beige coat is the biggest cosmetic deviation. If not for his eyes and his mane being a solid color, he’d look a lot like the colty flower-shop owner, Roseluck. Well, if Roseluck had a horn. It's not that shocking that your brother is a unicorn. Your grandma is a unicorn, but you still think it’s a little weird that the gene popped back up between an earth pony and a human. Red’s sharp teeth and cutie mark lay to rest any doubts on who his sire and dam are, though. ...But unlike his almost-doppelganger Roseluck, Red’s colors work damn good for a colt. You’re no weirdo who would try to herd with her own brother, but you know he’s going to look good as he gets older. Already fillies at school give him funny looks, looks that you gently dissuade by threatening to buck heads off of shoulders. Red hops onto the couch with you and settles, watching the TV with big, sparkling eyes. “Hard Boiled has to confess her love to the Mafia Donna’s son soon. It’s tearing them both apart!” Resisting the urge to berate your baby brother’s absolutely pleb taste in television, you slide the remote over to him with a hoof and stand up, arching your back in a stretch that makes your spine pop pleasantly. “Have fun, then. I’m going to see what the girls are up to.” Red turns to you, one ear twisting to the side in confusion. “You’re leaving?” He asks. “Yep,” you slide down from the couch and start the walk to the front door. “Everything on TV sucks, I’ve beaten every game I own, I even did my homework. I’m bored out of my skull.” ”But…” Red hesitates. “Didn’t Mom say I can’t be home alone?” “She did,” you agree, remembering Mom’s warning clear as day. Mom isn’t one to spank, but you know how all moms get with colts “But Miss Lyra and Bonbon are right next door. If anything happens, you can talk to them. You’ve been home alone before.” Red shakes his head. “Nuh-uh, Miss Lyra is performing for the Canterlot Orchestra this week, and… I dunno where Miss Bonbon went, but she’s not home either.” Bewildered, you trot to the side window of the house and peer out at your neighbor's house. Sure enough, all the lights are out. “Shit.” ”Sissy! You aren’t supposed to say that word!” You turn and level Red with a flat look. “Are you going to rat me out?” The colt holds his forehooves up to his mouth and shakes his head. Well, if Red can’t be left alone, then it looks like he’s coming with you. Mind made up, you turn and keep walking to the door. “C’mon, Red. You’re coming with.” The colt sticks his tongue out. “No. I don’t wanna be around a bunch of stinky fillies.” You frown. “Don’t be a brat. There’s nothing to do here.” Red rolls to his back on the couch, making his mane flare out like a berry-colored waterfall as he turns his attention back to the TV. “We can watch Willow Wood.” He says, picking up the remote in a magic aura of pink. Gah. “Besides watching colty garbage, I mean.” You roll your eyes and flick your tail. “C’mon. Are you really saying staying inside is more fun than going out into town?” The colt hums under his breath, but doesn’t look away from the TV. Hazarding a look at the soap opera, you see a haunted-looking ‘Hard Boiled’ staring down a dark hallway as a shadowy mare that looks like her whispers in her ear. A pathetic and cliche “Fight your own darkness” scene. “Red, c’mon. I don’t ask for much. Do me a solid.” You wrinkle your snoot. “Why are you resisting so much? Heck, they’re practically your friends too.” Whatever whimsy is gripping your brother finally seems to let go as he rolls back to his stomach, face locking into an expression of genuine thought. “Welllll” He holds the L on his word as he puts the remote floating in his telekinesis down. “Okay, but I want you to get me something from Sugar Cube Corner while we’re out!” “Deal, just don’t tell Dad. He’ll kill us both for loading up on sugar.” With Redcross FINALLY onboard, you grab your saddle bags, leave a note for your parents, make sure you have a few bits and your house key, then lock-up and head out. Together, you and Red trot along the main road through Ponyville and up towards the smaller, ritzier part of town. Ponyville is a small place for sure, but there are enough well-to-do ponies who work in Canterlot and commute by train just to avoid Canterlot taxes. Like Apogee’s dad. Luft and her sister Aryanne live on this side of town too, since Aryanne attends university in Canterlot. Zala on the other hoof lives closer to the center of town near the local guard barracks since her adoptive family is mostly guards. As you walk down main street dodging stallions running to the market for last minute dinner ingredients, Red bumps your flank with his own and points a hoof. “What do you think they’re making there, sissy?” Following his hoof, you blink and see a construction crew on break around what was an old laundromat. The boards covering the windows are gone, and inside you see that most of the flooring has been torn up. The place failed for some reason, you aren’t sure why, but it looks like the new owners have plans for it. “Dunno Red. Apo said she heard her dad talking to some investor friend about making an arcade in Ponyville, so maybe that?” An arcade would be cool, you’ve got to admit. All the popular hangout spots in Ponyville are getting crowded as more ponies move into town, so somewhere new to meet the girls sounds great. Red hums like Dad does when he’s thinking. “I hope it’s a new salon! The one dad and I go to is run by this creepy old mare,” the colt says with a shiver. “Euh! We only go in when she’s not there. She always talks funny to dad.” ‘Hitting on him.’ You roll your eyes, unsurprised. “Keep dreaming, Red. I think the town needs an arcade more than a salon of all things.” Red just sticks his tongue out at you. The further you go from the main road, the larger and more affluent the houses begin to look, the hallmark of entering yuppie territory. Once you pass Miss Rarity’s boutique, you can almost taste the smug in the air. As luck would have it, you don’t need to walk far, because you can See Luftkrieg and Apogee turn the corner ahead. Both of your friends smile and trot a little faster towards you and Red. “Hey Junior. Hey Red.” Apogee grins as she and Luft come to a stop before you. She flicks an ear. “What brings you out here?” “Looking for you, actually,” you say. “Nothing to do back home so I figured I’d see what you girls were up to. I had to bring the runt because my folks aren’t home.” “Sissy!” Redcross whines, stamping his little hooves. “I’m not a runt!” You smirk and press your wither to his, making a show of your half-hoof of extra height. His ears barely come up to your nose. Red might be tall for a colt, but you’re still the biggest pony in your age group by a longshot. “Really?” Red puffs his cheeks out in annoyance. “If you keep making fun of me, I’ll tell dad!” You roll your eyes but step off, knowing he’s a big enough cryfoal to actually do it. ‘Jeez Red, grow some thicker skin.’ “You’re not a runt, Red. Junior is just fat is all,” Apogee grins as Luft tries to hide a snicker behind one of her white wings. Red, the little shit, giggles along with them. “Fat, hmm?” You grind out, slinging a foreleg over Apogee’s neck, making the other filly go pale under her coat. She gags when you tighten your grip, drawing a smirk from you. “I’ll have you know that I’m a solid eighty equestrian pounds of mare and muscle. Don’t you dare besmirch my gains!” You shake her like a griffin nanny would a foal. Which is to say violently. “Ack!” She paws at your leg. “Gains? I’ve never seen you set a hoof in a gym before!” You just tighten your chokehold and make her cough. After letting Apo struggle for a few seconds, you let go and sniff with your muzzle held high in superiority. “So, where to?” “We were going to go to the creek and try to sift for crawfish,” Luftkrieg lifts one of the flaps of her saddlebags, showing you a folded up net and a little steel pot inside. “We never had them in Germaneigh, so Apogee said she’d take me to catch some!” “Crawfish? You mean crawmoms?” Red tilts his head. “Those little pinchy lobster things? Why do you want them? You snort. “To eat, duh.” You almost forgot that pegasi like fish and the like. “You boil them until they’re red, then you pop ‘em open and eat them.” “You like crawfish, Junior?” Luft asks with a curious blink. You just smile wide and put your canine teeth on display, making Luft tap her forehead in a ‘duh’ moment. “Eww…” Red grimaces as a shiver runs down his back. “They’re like bugs. That's gross.” “No no, they’re really good! Honest!” Apogee says enthusiastically, leaning forward. “Just try one! You’ll like it!” Red shies away, stepping behind you. “I dunno…” “At least help us since you can grab them without being pinched.” You say, eyeballing your brother’s horn. “If you do, I’ll get you one of those Le Bombe eclairs from SCC when we head home if you don’t tell mom and dad.” The bribe works wonders, because Red perks up instantly. “Okay! You’re the best, sissy!” He smiles and cuddles up into your side. You smile. “Don’t forget it.” The trot to the creek isn’t very long. You, Red, Luft, and Apo just follow the river cutting through town out to the edge of the Whitetail woods. There, the clear water crosses a shallow riverbed filled with smooth stones before it snakes deeper into the woods. The smell of the running water and mossy rocks tickles your nose, and the delicious phantom taste of boiled crawfish ghosting along your tongue makes your mouth water a little. No knock on Dad’s cooking, but fresh crawfish beats leftovers. “This looks like a good spot!” Apogee declares, shrugging off her saddle bags at the edge of the creek. “Perfect angle for ingress and egress…” She pokes at the muddy shore. “Nice flat path through the river rocks…” A yellow hoof dips into the water. “The water isn’t even cold! Yep!” Apo beams and shakes the droplets from her hoof. “This is going to be a dinner of champions!” “Dinner of champs, right.” You dryly reply, even if you’re eager for fresh crawfish too. “Any reason Zala isn’t here?” Luft’s face screws itself up into a funny expression, as if trying to hold back a laugh while also being remorseful for laughing. “E-Er, she said that she doesn’t like shellfish.” “A crawfish gave her a teaty-twister or something, gotcha,” you nod sagely, making Red burst out into colty giggles. “I get it. The little buckers are mean.” Luftkrieg’s face breaks out into an appalled blush, but Apogee laughs so hard that her wings have to pop up to steady her lest she fall over. “Hahahaha!” Apogee bites her hoof to stifle herself. “Firsthoof experience?” You say nothing as you wade into the creek and start flipping rocks for crawfish, but make a point to not step anywhere deep enough to submerge your teats. ‘It’s because the water is cold.’ You tell yourself. ‘Apogee has that pegasus thermal fat. She wouldn’t know it was cold out even if it was snowing.’ Luft shrugs her bags off and assembles her bamboo-handled net, then she and Apo follow into the creek after you. After some hesitation, Red tentatively steps into the water as well, his horn already alight with a rosy aura. ‘Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.’ You flip a few of the flat rocks in the creek over, turning the mud at the bottom of the creek bed and making dark little plumes, but get nothing to show for it. After a few more rocks, you frown. “Any luck?” You ask Red and the girls. Red shakes his head, turning a rock in his magic around as he inspects it. “I’m not finding anything, sissy,” he says, dropping the rock back into the water with a ‘plop’. He shuffles his hooves, kicking up cloudy mud as he sifts through the creek bed. He lifts a hoof and grimaces at the muck on it. “Nothing at all.” “Nothing yet…” Apogee mutters. She lifts a rock from the creek in her hoof and turns it over as Luft waits at her side, net ready. As the mud settles again, they find a whole lot of nothing. “Huh. Normally they’re teeming around this part of the creek. What's up with this?” Apogee tilts her head with a confused face. Luftkrieg shifts the net held in the crook of her foreleg. “Were they washed downstream? Or maybe they’re stuck upstream?” “I don’t think they’re downstream,” you look towards the lake. “They like flowing water, so whatever it is must be upstream.” You look back to your friends and baby brother. “Let's follow the creek and see what's up.” As a group, you all wade further up the creek, stopping only briefly to overturn rocks only to yet again find nothing. As you walk, you feel your temper begin to fray as your stomach growls. If you find out someone has already fished the creek dry, then they’re going to be enjoying an after-meal snack of their own teeth. “Wah..?” Luft’s eyes widen and she spreads her wings to stop everyone behind her. “Look!” You look past her and feel your own eyes widen. Apogee’s jaw drops, and Red gasps before he cuddles behind you in fright. In the clear water ahead, the creek is absolutely crawling with crayfish of all sizes. There’s so many that the river rocks are hidden from view, making the ground seem like it’s alive. All of the little crustaceans are crawling over each other to try and get to a mound of bodies in the middle, who are all crowded around something. The mound is so high that a few of them are poking out of the water. “Wow, there's so many, and they're big too!” Apogee steps forward to get a closer look. “What are they doing?” You push Red a little further behind you and turn broadside to shield your brother a little more. This is really making the needle on your finely honed strange-shit-o-meter tick past green and into yellow. “I don’t know. I just know this isn’t normal…” You say. Like Apo said, the crawmoms are much bigger than normal, easily almost twice the size they should be. Luftkrieg sweeps her net through the water, scooping a few of the oversized crawfish up without any fuss at all. They don’t even try to scuttle away, instead just mindlessly trying to get to the center of the pile through the fabric of the net. Unnerved, Luft tips her net and dumps them back out. “Should we go tell someone?” Red timidly asks. “I thought they were supposed to be under rocks and stuff.” “They are,” you frown in thought. You really want to know whats going on, but even with as oddly passive as the crawfish are being, you’re not about to step between them to get the mound of bodies. “Hey, Red? Can you lift some of them from the pile and see what they’re crowded around?” Still hiding behind you, Red rests his chin on your back and lights up his horn. A few of the crawmoms are picked up in a pink aura and gently dropped back in the shallow water of the shore, squirming in protest all the while. Red pokes his tongue out in concentration as he shifts the crustaceans around faster than they can pile back up again. Apogee and Luft take to the air with flaps of their wings, hovering over the crowd of crawmoms as the mound slowly shrinks. When an opening big enough for a hoof is made, Apogee darts down and grabs the thing all of the mini-lobsters are crowded around, pulling out… “A pocket watch?” You furrow your brow as the silvery thing dangles in Apo’s grip. “Why would..!” You don’t get to finish as the crawfish all shudder as one, then they all bunch up into a ball, grabbing each other with their pincers to act as one. then they surge up at Apogee like a wave! “Ahhh!” Apogee freaks out and throws the watch at you as she flies up and away, missing being caught by inches. “Get away!” The wave of scuttling crawfish follows the watch as it flies, trying to snatch it out of the air only to miss. You raise your hooves with a flinch as the watch flies at your face, just barely nabbing it before it beans you in the muzzle. With the dry sound of shells shifting, the huge wave of crustaceans turns its attention to you and a wide-eyed Red. “Why did you throw it at me!?” You yell in panic. Before you can get an answer, you turn and snatch the dumbfounded Redcross by the scruff of his neck and sling him over your back like a sack of rice before bolting to the shore. You dare not look back and silently urge your magic to start flowing so you can run faster as you hear the churning of the water getting closer and closer. ‘Shit shit shit! Faster, please!’ You almost beg your magic as a shadow looms over you. “Junior!” Luft and Apogee scream. In the frog of your hoof, the watch grows warm, and to your shock, the thick streams of mana running through your veins roar and flow like the water you’re tripping through. With a grunt and a leap, you fly through the air just as the crawmoms come down like a tidal wave, crossing a solid thirty human feet in one jump. You land and skid to a stop, making furrows in the grass. Turning, you watch the crawfish crash down into the water and explode everywhere as they lose their grip on each other. Luftkrieg and Apogee land lightly next to you, their wings out and ready to flee. In the creek, something silent seems to shift in the water. The crawfish, seemingly in a trance earlier, now freak out and scuttle away, all of them running and hiding under rocks. A moment later, and no one would be able to tell that a few hundred of them just tried to seize you. You shift your shoulders and let Red down, then look down at the mysterious watch in your hoof. The grass stains from your sliding landing do nothing to cover the brilliance of the watch. In the late afternoon sun, it shines a pure silver, unmarred by rust from its stay in the water. In the cover etched into the metal is a seven pointed star, each point ending on a corner of the heptagon-shaped body, while the back bears a rune you’ve never seen before. Filled with curiosity and dimply aware of Apo and Luft watching over your shoulder, you tap the button to pop it open and find… nothing. The inside of the pocket watch is empty. Where the actual watch would sit is just the blank face of the other side of the back-casing. But on the inside of the cover, something is scratched into the metal… “A memento from the First One dead…” You blink, wondering what in the world the ominous line means. “Hic…” You turn quickly toward the sound and bite your lip. Red peers up at you with blue eyes filled with tears as his shoulders begin to shake. “S-Sissy…” Uncaring if you get ribbed for it later, you push past Luft and Apogee to pull Red into a hug, tossing the empty watch down by your bags. “Hey, don’t cry. You’re alright…” You rub a hoof along his back. “C’mon, that was scary but everything is fine…” The colt presses his face into your neck before shuddering and letting out a great, hiccuping sob that just hurts you as a mare to listen to. You just hug him close and let him cry it out, ignoring the itch in your eyes and the pounding in your chest. Mares don't cry from fear. After a minute, Red’s tears slow to a trickle, and he doesn’t whine when you let him go and back up a step. “Better?” He sniffles and nods, looking at the ground. “Yeah…” “Wanna eat some of those crawfish in revenge?” He wrinkles his snoot. “What if they taste nasty?” “Then I’ll eat yours,” you say, doing your best to be patient. “Then we can get you something sweet on the way home.” Red sniffles again. “Okay.” You turn to Apogee and Luft, who both still look spooked. “Still up for a crawfish boil? I’m starving,” you say, looking between them and the still upset Red. Thankfully, both get your hint to mare up in front of Red. “Sure am!” Apogee smiles. “My dad made some boiling powder from scratch! They’re gonna taste great!” Luft nods along. “Mein gott, I can't wait!” She smiles maybe a little too wide. Being an entirely too polite germane filly, seeing Red cry must have really tugged at her heartstrings. “Let's go!” Red smiles back wanely. You all head back to the creek, though Red takes some coaxing to get back into the water. With the crawfish acting normal again, they’re hidden under their rocks and the fun of catching them is back. Red squeals and dances around when one zips by his hoof, and Luftkrieg yelps and flails when one painfully pinches the frog of her hoof, but before long you all gather up a net of wriggling morsels. You then find a nice spot to make a little fire, and proudly using the new knife Dad got you, you shave a stick down into tinder and start a little cooking fire just as you'd been shown. About twenty minutes later, you’re enjoying a dinner of bright red, fat crawmoms. “Sissy…” You sigh and swear to yourself. ‘Not going to get annoyed, I’m not going to get annoyed…’ You keep your mantra to yourself and take the crawmom that Red hoofs to you. With three deft motions, you crack the tail and both claws. “Red, you’ve got TK. I know you can pop them open,” you say, hoofing the steamy snack back to Red. He blinks, then picks the crawfish up in an aura of pink. “But I like it when you do it. You always do it right,” he says, shoving the tail meat into his mouth and chewing slowly. ‘I… can't be mad about that one.’ You sigh again and crack your last claw between your teeth before sucking it from the shell. “Hey, Apo,” you swallow your bite. “Your dad’s boil mix is pretty good. Got a recipe?” Across from you, Apogee glares and holds her tongue out as she pants. “What? It’s way too hot! Look at Luft!” The other pegasus is red as a cherry, her white fur doing nothing to hide how she’s feeling the heat, but the crawfish are so damn good after a soak in the boil mix that she keeps forcing bites down. “Würzig, würzig, würzig…” she chants some germane nonsense with tears in her eyes and pops another hunk of tail into her mouth. You shrug. “It’s not that bad. Red’s a colt and he’s handling it fine.” Red looks up, his brow furrowed. “What's that supposed to mean?” “It means Luft and Apo are bitchmade,” you smirk. “Ha ha…” Apogee rolls her eyes, then she takes on a more serious expression. “Junior? What are we going to do with the watch?” She says. “Are we going to tell someone? It made the crawfish berserk and it’s obviously some kinda magic. Do we put it back?” Both Red and Luft look at you too, Red with apprehension and Luftkrieg with conflict. “Who would we even take it to?” Luftkrieg ruffles her wings and tosses her head, throwing her mane out of her eyes. “Someone’s parents, mein sister?” You shift on your haunches. The watch… You remember vividly how your magic, thick and sluggish as molasses, jumped to your command like an eager dog just holding the thing. How did it do that? And the inscriptions. Why a seven-pointed star? Who is the First One and how did they die? Why a watch as a memento? And to whom? Where are the other parts? The questions burn inside you, and just just want to know so bad. “I heard the new librarian is some kind of expert spellcaster,” Apogee supplies, blinking her wine-colored eyes “She’s from Canterlot and worked for Princess Celestia or something. Maybe she’ll know what to do with it?” “No.” All the eyes around the dying fire turn to you, and Dad’s warning to be wary of Twilight Sparkle rings in your skull. “We’re going to be the ones to figure this thing out, so we’re not going to tell anyone.” “Sissy,” Red looks at you with big, worried eyes. “What about the crawmoms and how they went crazy? What if the watch does something else?” “We’ll lock it in a magic-proof box when it needs to be put away,” you reply back. “Do you still have that insulated box? The one that mom made you practice using your hooves with when you were little?” Red touches his bottom lip with his hoof in thought. “I think so.” “Easy. See?” You smile. “Gals… and guy. We’ve got a premium mystery on our hooves here. Don’t you want to find out about this thing? Or how it got here or who it belongs to?” “Well… when you put it that way, maybe a little…” Apogee rubs one foreleg with another and smiles sheepishly when Luft gives her a flat stare. “What? If nothing like that happens again, it sounds like it would be fun! A gang of friends solving a mystery around a mysterious artifact they found by random chance one day? Or maybe it wasn’t chance at all and we were meant to find it!” She grins, actually amping herself up. “Will it do more or tell us more if we find the rest of the watch?” “Exactly what I was thinking,” you grin back. “Red, Luft, you in? I think I can guess Zala’s answer already since zeebs are into kooky magic and all that.” “I dunno sissy…” Red mumbles. “It sounds like fun, but…” he trails off and tucks a bit of his mane behind his ear with magic. “I don't wanna unless you're with me, okay?” You smile and lay your head on top of his, your chin resting between his ears, making him smile. “Duh. If something happened to you, mom would skin me alive.” Luftkrieg sighs. “I think I’ll be outvoted on this… but!” She levels you with a serious look. “I think we should tell someone if things get dangerous,” she says sharply. “Mein sister loses enough sleep as it is, so I don’t want to worry her over me.” You smile and pull away from Red. “Sounds like we’ve got a new summer project.” You and your brother arrive home just as the sun begins to set, right at the tail end of your curfew. Pushing open the door, you smile and shake yourself, airing your sweaty coat out in the AC. “That's the stuff…” “Dad! Mom! We’re home!” Redcross scampers past you and into the living room with all the surgery energy of a foal-sized eclair. If anything lifts the spirits of colts, it’s got to be expensive sweets. You follow Red after shrugging off your saddlebags by the door, trotting into the living room just as Red bounds up onto the couch and into Dad’s lap. “Ah, there you two are,” Dad rumbles as he holds Red’s head and strokes the colt’s smiling cheeks with his thumbs. Dad’s fancy date attire is already gone and put away, leaving him in his pajama bottoms and a sleeveless white shirt. “Little late going home, no?” “They’re fine, honey,” Mom says from her recliner. Her black dress is still on, but her pink mane is down. Her eyes are glued to the evening news on the TV as she talks. “They’re home before dark just like we said.” “Hmm, true,” Dad concedes as you hop up on the couch and sit next to him. “Did you two enjoy your day out?” Red smiles and nods. “Mmhmm! Sissy, Luftkrieg, and Apogee took me to the creek to catch crawmoms.” “Hoho, really now?” Dad smiles back at Red and smooshes the colt’s cheeks in his hands, making Red giggle and playfully struggle. “No wonder the leftovers in the refrigerator are untouched. I may have to go out sometime…” Dad pauses, his eyes narrowing a little. “Redcross? Your eyes are a little…” he pauses to think of the word. “Puffy? Are you alright?” You feel your heart stop as Mom looks over to Red intently. If he cracks and tells them what happened, you’re beyond dead for putting him in danger, even if it was an accident. ‘Red, for the love of Faust, don’t say anything!’ Red blinks. “O-Oh. Uh, a crawmom pinched my hoof really hard, Dad. It’s okay because sissy ate him though!” Mom lets out a relieved sigh and turns back to the TV. Oh Faust you nearly had a heart attack. Sometimes you really love your brother. “Aww…” Dad’s face softens. “Which one?” Red shyly holds his left hoof up, and Dad leans in to kiss it with an exaggerated smooch sound. Thankfully, Dad doesn't look too hard. “There! Any better?” Red smiles, but you roll your eyes. Kissing booboos when Red is ten years old? Really? “Hrm?” Dad reaches up and wipes a finger across the corner of Red’s lip, coming back with a smear of creme. “I thought I smelled sugar on your breath. A lot of it. Anything to say?” Red’s eyes bug out. “Sissy bought me it at Sugarcube Corner!” The rat bastard throws you under the carriage without a second thought. Dad turns his eyes to you, one unamused eyebrow raised. ‘Kindly go fuck yourself, Red.’ A Camping We Will Go! (1)Junior's friends have never really met her family. Not that Junior was hiding them, they just lived on the opposite side of Ponyville from the school. When the parents of the other fillies are busy one night, they decide to go to Anon Jr's place to do homework and hangout. The three fillies know Junior isn't 100% pony, and she's told them such. Even if she didn't, the predator teeth, weird speech accent, un-pony way she stalks forward instead of cantering were all dead giveaways. They had no idea what a "hyumane" was though. They get to Junior's house and notice something off. It's a big house, but not in the way they expected. Everything seems scaled up a little, just enough to be noticeable. Junior throws open the door and yells something in... They don't know what language. Sometimes Junior would say things in a language that isn't Equish, but this is the longest continuous string that they heard. All three fillies freeze when a rumbly voice answers back, plainly audible despite being a normal volume. The floor shakes a little as slow footsteps approach from beyond their view, but other than the vibration as they feel, the footsteps themselves are totally silent, making their coats stand on end. Something rounds a corner in the off house. Standing almost three times their height and easily twice as tall as a mare with his head only inches from the ceiling, Anonymous Senior silently stalks forward like his daughter does, regarding them with small, piercing eyes that root them in place. Junior approaches the hulk without any fear, and he drops to a knee, hand reaching out. The three watching fillies can't even scream out a warning when a pair of long arms ending in hooked digits snags Junior off the ground, pulling her into... A hug? "Old man!? Lay off! My friends are right there!" Junior bites out, but she isn't struggling anywhere near as hard as she could. The hyumane hums deep in his chest, and all three spectators can feel it vibrate the ground under their hooves. "Don't tell me my baby girl is already too old for a hug from me? It breaks my heart." He says, words framed by an accent only shared by Junior. Junior stops struggling and huffs, but goes beet red through her green coat when her sire kisses the top of her head and quietly laughs, a sound as sweet and rich as melted chocolate. Anonymous Senior finally lets his daughter go and turns to the three ramrod rigid fillies. "You must be the three I hear about so often." He gives them a gentle smile that shows off just a few sharp, gleaming teeth. "Come in and make yourselves comfy. The missus is working a little late tonight, but I'm sure I can feed and entertain you myself." He rises and turns back to the kitchen, silently moving back to it. "Dinner will be soon, so try not to fill up on junk, hmm?" Junior huffs one more time and turns back to her friends. All three are looking away with burning red blushes, expressions all some mix of fright and arousal, tails flagging all-round. The scent of arousal hits the younger Ymous's nose, making her wrinkle her snoot. "That's gross." You are Anonymous Jr, otherwise known just as Junior. About two weeks back, your pals Apogee, Zala, and Luftkrieg came over to your place to hangout after school... And just like Little League did the time she was over, all three perved on your dad. Gross... Which is why you're dreading tonight. Your mom unexpectedly got a late shift at the hospital, and she was supposed to be your team's chaperone for a fillyscout camping trip in the Whitetail Woods. Zala's parents were busy, Apogee's dad knows nothing about the outdoors, and Luft's sister Aryanne is swamped in college coursework. Meaning you had to ask your dad... You trudge into your house with your friends following just a few steps behind, already knowing dad's answer. "Welcome home, [Mini-me]." Dad's deep voice calls from around the corner to the kitchen, his words switching to English halfway. "How was your scout meeting?" You throw off your scout uniform and throw it on the couch as you pass it. Your friends keep theirs on as you all round the corner. Standing at his huge height of twelve imperial hooves tall, dad easily reaches into the highest cupboard above the stove as he watches a simmering pot on the stove. Too fast for most eyes to track, he throws a pinch of spice into the pot and replaces the little shaker in one seamless movement. "It was okay..." You answer, looking around and wondering where your hellion of a little brother is. "Say, dad, mom got a screwy shift, so she can’t watch me and the girls during our camping trip. Could you… Fill in for her?” Then a thought hits you. “If you’re watching the brat this weekend that's fine,” you add, trying to sound nonchalant. Dad hums in his chest, the sort of hum that you feel in your own chest from a distance. He finally turns away from dinner to face you. You scowl when, to your right, Luftkrieg openly blushes at the noise. ”You’re in luck then, [daughter dearest], because your grandparents took Redcross for the weekend. Something about an art show in Canterlot so he doesn’t feel put out about not being allowed to go on your camping trip,” Shit. You bite your lip to keep from swearing in front of your dad. Dad then smiles a toothy smile when he sees your friends. “Ah, how rude of me. It’s a pleasure to see all of you again, girls.” ”I-It’s nice to see you again too, M-Mister Heart!” Zala forces out, smiling nervously. Luft rapidly nods along and Apogee tries to say something, but it just comes out as a squeak that makes her already red face flush deeper. You are so glad human noses are so much weaker than a pony’s. Even with your muted hybrid sense of smell, your friend’s collective arousal is as thick as it is disgusting. If dad could smell this, you would pray for Faust to smite you on your hooves. Considering you now have to live in a tent with this smell come tomorrow for a whole weekend, you may still pray for that smiting. ”Make yourselves at home, girls. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so,” dad smiles one last time and turns back around to the stove. “I would love to go camping with you all. I haven’t been out on a trip longer than a day since I came here from the old country.” Earth… You can’t help but wonder about the land of humans. Dad said his side of the family is dead and gone, and that the isolated land is nigh impossible to get in or out of, but you still wish you could go there just once to visit your countrymen. ”So, this weekend, then?” Dad continues, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Yep…” You hold back a sigh and wonder how the rest of the class is going to take this. Or the rest of the parents. Considering your dad, there is going to be a LOT of emaresculated moms there. ”Sounds like a plan, then,” dad chuckles. “I’ll have to dig my old pack out and see if the moths have eaten it or not.” “Thanks, dad. We’ll be in my room!” You call over your shoulder as you trot away, silently shooting all your friend’s a glare to follow. They do. You lay sprawled out on your bed, glaring at the math homework spread out before you. Fucking Cheerilee. Can’t even let ease up off when she knows that the fillyscouts are going to be gone until monday. ’Just do it all tonight then.’ You mockingly replay your teacher's words in your head. 'Maybe you need to get laid, you uptight cunt.' ”Say, Junior?” You look up to Apogee, who has all her homework done already. The pegasus blinks. “Does Scoutmaster Sweet know that your dad is taking your mom’s place?” “I told her I’d get a parent, not which one,” you grunt, returning your eyes to your homework. You take your pencil in your lips and jot down an answer to one of the questions, 90% sure it’s right. “She can’t really force guys away. Mac Apple was one to foalsit Applebloom and her misfit troupe last time.” ”Well, yeah, but Mac Apple is a farm colt, it’s a bit different,” Apogee replies, picking her homework up in her lips and stuffing it in her book bag. “And Scoutmaster Sweet is friends with Tiara’s mom, who is kinda…sexist?” ”The scoutmaster might try to make things hard for Mister Heart…” Luftkrieg weighs in, her germane accent thickening a little in concern. You scoff. “All of you are worrying too much. The old man could eat a bowl of tacks without any milk. He’s the furthest thing from dainty.” ”You might be biased, though, Junior,” Zala jumps in, looking away from her homework as well. She rises off her belly into a seated position. “Your father is a very sweet stallion, and we just want to be sure he’ll be okay.” “Not because you’ve got the hots for him?” You bluntly ask, making all three of your friends flush red and look away. You sigh. “Look, don’t worry about my dad. He’ll be fine.” ”Girls! Dinner is ready!” Dad’s voice echos up to the second floor. Everyone’s homework is promptly abandoned as you, Zala, Luft, and Apogee hop off the bed and bolt downstairs. ”-at filly busted her leg just like Junior did last summer.” You round the corner to find your mom, Redheart, telling Dad about her day as she sits down at the head of the table. It must have been a hard day, because Mom’s usually pristine white coat is slightly off-colored with sweat, and her usual mane-bun is let down, letting her mane spill down her back. ”Aww, poor gal,” Dad clicks his tongue at Mom’s story as he takes the pot off the stove. Your mouth waters a little when you catch the scent of red lentil in the stew the pot no doubt holds. “Well, it could have always been worse.” “Hey, mom,” you pick that time to interject as you take the spot to her left. “How was work? Sounds like a bad one.” ”Hey yourself, kiddo,” Mom smiles tiredly. “It wasn’t bad, just a lot to do today. Sorry about your camping trip, but Doctor Scalpel fell ill and a patient is scheduled for a surgery on Saturday. Guess who it falls to now?” ”You, Doctor Redheart?” Apogee asks as she makes a fluttering hop to get on the slightly oversized chair next to you. ”Got it in one,” Mom lets out a short laugh. “You girls staying for dinner?” ”They are,” Dad confirms, pulling a stack of bowls from a high cupboard with one hand while the other gets exactly six spoons from a drawer. “I swear, honey. You need to be a director or something for that [fucking ungrateful] hospital. Would they have even let you take that pediatrician opening if you didn’t walk that panicking intern through Junior’s birth?” ”Probably not,” Mom laughs again. “To be fair, green bean was quite a bit bigger than a normal foal, so that derailed my plans of doing it myself.” Dad’s little eyes sparkle in that evil away that instantly tells you he’s about to embarrass you. “Ah, I remember when [mini-me] was a chubby little foal. Didn’t even fit in her first onesie!” You feel your face and ears burn when your friends giggle. “[Dad!]” ”I’m just teasing you, honey,” He chuckles as he ladles out bowls of his lentil stew with his usual seamless motions. The grace dad can put in normal motions has long since stopped being fascinating to you, but it takes just a look around the table to see your friends all focused on him. Redcross once likened dad to seeing those stupid expensive sixty-frame-per-second TVs in a Canterlot electronics store for the first time. It’s just so smooth that it’s hard not to stare in wonder. Dad passes out the bowls, spoons, and is sure to include a bottle of hard cider with mom’s, making the mare smile and pull dad down into a short kiss that he gladly returns. Then he turns back to the counter and puts a plate with a fresh loaf of bread out on the table to go with his stew. “Dig in!” You can worry later, dinner is on! Author's Note A big thanks to my patrons for supporting my hobby. https://www.patreon.com/fuggmann
A Camping We Will Go! (2)You are Anonymous Junior, or just Junior to most. It's friday afternoon and school is almost out. A lesson dragged on forever and pushed recess to almost the end of the day, and the game today? Hoofball. Perfect for venting all the frustration of a long day. "Hike!" You grab the hoofball passed to you and dart through a hole in the other team's linemares, who clash with the linemares on your team. You rush as fast as you can on three legs since one of your forelegs is holding the ball, almost flying over the grass in your haste. Your heart thunders in your ears and your breathing gets all your focus. In the corner of your eye, you can see Peachy sprinting right at you, but Apogee comes in with a tackle that knocks the yellow earth pony filly off her hooves. Scootaloo moves into your path and plants herself to intercept, her face determined, so you just grin and lower your stance as you run. The pegasus tries to tackle you, but being a mutt means you've got dense human muscle flowing with magic, so you blow through her. You hear the wind get knocked out of her as you carry her along for about a yard, then she falls and skids through the grass, staining her coat. With your superior green coat, grass stains aren't a thing for you. The in-zone comes into view. Yes! Just a few more yards and you've got this! You grin a toothy grin as the chalk line of the in-zone gets closer, but you see somepony coming in hot from your left. Eyes narrow and angry, Applebloom bullrushes you, making you snarl. If there is anyone as strong as you in class, it's Applebloom. There is a flash of black and white on your right, and without thinking, you pass the ball before Applebloom slams into you, making both you and her fall in a jumble of limbs that slide across the grass. "Touchdown!" Zala you beautiful zigger. Her voice tells you that your gamble paid off. You untangle yourself from Applebloom, not bothering to offer her any help as you rise. ”10 to 2, baby!” Apogee cheers with a flutter of her wings as the team regroups around you. “We win!” You, Apogee, Zala, and the other fillies cheer as the other team sulks on the other side of the field. You look over, seeing most of them taking the loss pretty well. Luftkrieg got picked for the other team and doesn’t seem bothered, but both Applebloom and Scootaloo are miffed. ”Of course the team with the hulking freak wins!” Your roll your eyes and turn further, finding an angry Diamond Tiara covered in dirt and grass stains. She’s in the process of putting her namesake tiara back on as she stomps up. 'Euh. Bringing an actual diamond-studded tiara to school? How gaudy could you get?' The pink filly finishes putting her headwear on before scowling even more. "You hear me, you half-monkey mutt?” A few of the girls hiss and you fight the urge to turn around and buck Tiara right in the mouth. Instead, you smile nice and wide, putting your sharp teeth on full display and stalk closer to her, head held low like a predator ready to sprint. To Tiara’s credit, her expression doesn’t change even when you stop less than an inch away from her face, but you do see a short shiver run down her back. Even full-grown mares hate ‘the look’, and Tiara is no different. “Wanna run that by me again, little miss perfect-flank?” You quietly ask, toothy grin still in place. “Maybe actually try in the game sometime rather than worry about chipping a hoof like a colt, and you’ll win, or maybe not be picked last.” Her face burns red. Being rich and popular means Tiara is almost never picked last, but she had to suffer the shame of being last before, and did it again today because Zala and Applebloom were picked as the hoofball captains. Neither one wanted dead weight on their team. It must burn Tiara something fierce that you of all ponies pointed it out, since you’re the first pick and top-scorer damn near every time. ”Maybe if our captain wasn’t a biased blank-flank who picked her blank-flank friends first, that wouldn’t have happened and your smug, freak-of-nature self would be in the dirt,” Tiara grounds out, pointing at a wounded-looking Applebloom, furious Scootaloo, and worried Sweetie Bell. Oh the teats on this one for talking about bias. Before you can retort, the bell rings and signals the end of recess. She shoots you one last glare, then trots off to find Silver Spoon and her clique of other hanger-ons. You snort, then turn back to your friends and fell into step as you all walk back to the school ”Jeez, Junior. I thought she was actually going to throw a punch, there,” Apogee says, fiddling with the hoofball under her wing. “She looked really mad.” You shake your head. “Nah. Tiara is all hot air and mommy money. She can talk shit she'll drop like a little colt after one hoof to the jaw and she knows it.” ”Still, perhaps you should not goad her?” Luftkrieg asks as the group stops by the door with the other mass of fillies. The germane pegasus flips it bit of her blonde mane out of her green-ish eyes. “It’s only a matter of time until she is angry enough to attempt something.” You scoff. “Like what? Bitch and moan to daddy that the mean green filly is bullying her? Get real. If she wants to go screaming about bullied, then I’ll actually give her a reason to cry.” The colts all walk past the fillies into the school, getting the privilege of being first as is usual, and once the last colt passes, the fillies start filing in. You find your desk near the back and sit down as Ms. Cheerilee clears off the chalkboard. To your left, Apogee sits, and beside her, Zala. Luftkrieg sits in front of you. ”Welcome back everyone!” The teacher greets everyone with a smile. “Sorry about how long the last lesson took. There isn’t much left today, so we’ll just be doing a bit of review for the math test next week!” You groan and can hear Apogee sigh next to you. In front of you, Luft perks up like the goodie-perfect student she is. Cunt. Cheerilee ignores the groans and moans. “Also, the fillyscouts will be let out a bit early today in preparation for their camping trip to the Whitetail woods. Fillyscouts, please head home at 2pm to get you things please!” Now THAT is some good news. You look over at the clock and are delighted to see it’s 1:05pm already. With a smile, you pull out your textbook and pretend to read. ”Okay, fillyscouts! You’re free to go! Go home and come back here at 4pm to meet Scoutmaster Sweet!” Cheerilee announces after what feels like the longest fifty-five minutes of your life. You throw your book into your bookbag and are out of your seat along with about a fourth of the class. You, Luft, Apogee, Zala, and a few others beeline for the door and out into the blessed freedom of the weekend. ”You girls already packed?” Zala asks as you, she, Luft, and Apogee canter down the path into town. ”I think I am?” Apogee replies with a sheepish smile. “I’ve never really been camping before and I’ve got all the stuff on the fillyscout list, but I get the feeling I’m forgetting something.” ”No need to worry, mein sister made sure to help me pack extras of the essentials. If you are missing something, I’m happy to share!” Luftkrieg smiles. Apogee smiles back and bumps flanks with the other pegasus. “Thanks, sis.” ”How about you, Junior?” Zala asks you. You shrug. “I’ve got everything on the list, and my old man is bringing a gigantic backpack worth of stuff, so I’m sure I can bum off him if I need it.” You aren’t joking about how big dad’s backpack is. It’s a huge thing filled to the brim and even has metal braces on it. You tried to lift it last night for kicks and barely got across the room before your legs began to wobble. It must weigh more than a grown mare. ”Will mister Heart need help with his things? Did he pack a lot?” Luft asks, focusing on you. You roll your eyes. “Don’t get any bright ideas. My dad doesn’t need help, and you’d throw your back out trying anyway.” You split off from the girls after a short goodbye and start the trot back home through Ponyville. One the way, you spy the town’s new librarian and her… dragon out and about. The purple unicorn has her nose buried in a notebook as she slowly walks by, and her saddlebags are filled with what looks like books. The short dragon with her rides on her back, too engrossed with a Sugar Cube Corner cupcake to notice much else. Supposedly, Princess Luna came back on the night of the last Summer Sun Celebration a few weeks ago, the same night that the librarian came to town. She and a few other mares fought Nightmare Moon and freed Princess Luna, or that's what the rumor mill says. You didn’t notice anything and slept through it, if it actually happened. Personally, you don’t believe it, but dad’s serious warning to be both wary and respectful of the purple unicorn trumps your reluctance to believe. Dad is a lot of things, but a liar isn't one of them. Deep thoughts over, you find yourself at your house and walk inside, shutting the door behind you to enjoy the air-conditioned interior. Man, it’s hot outside. You trot up to your room, get your (dumb-looking) fillyscout uniform and trade your bookbag for your camping bag before coming back downstairs. “Hey, Dad!” You call. “I’m home!” Silence is all you get in return. With a frown, you trot to the kitchen and look around, not finding your lug of a dad, but a sticky-note stuck to the fridge. With a hum, you take the note and look it over. Junior, Went out to get a few last minute things. Home soon. Love, Dad. “Huh, okay.” You shrug and ball the note up in your hoof before tossing it in the trash. With nothing to do and well over an hour and a half until you need to leave, you check your things one last time, then trot down the hall past the kitchen and living room to the den. You push the door open and take in the large room. Inside is a human-sized loveseat facing a fireplace, mom and dad’s favorite place to relax. The mantle of the fireplace has several trophies and pictures, including a picture of mom and dad’s wedding and foal pictures of you and your little brother Redcross. You look up at the wedding picture, not really seeing any noticeable difference between your parents back then and now, thirteen years later. Mom is as healthy as they come and everyone says dad ages like wine. You don’t know much about wine but assume it's a compliment. Away from the mantle, you see dad’s gigantic backpack. It’s almost ridiculously huge and filled to bursting. A (probably custom) sleeping bag is rolled up and strapped to the top while a large shovel and an axe are strapped to the side. Well, the shovel and axe are large to you, and probably to any pony, but they’re probably more like an entrenching tool and a hatchet to dad. Even further past the backpack and bookshelves, you see mom’s desk against the wall in the corner. It has several medical texts on it and a half-full crystal decanter of some amber booze. No doubt mom is using both studying to get some sort of license or a new degree. In the other corner is dad’s collection of strange human things, the most notable being the mannequin. When you were younger, that stupid thing scared the hell out of you and dad had the gall to laugh about it before giving in and comforting you. The wooden dummy is garbed in what dad calls armor, but you’ve never seen armor like it before, as it’s nothing like the shining gold of the Royal Guard. So much stiff, blotchy, mismatched forest-colored fabric, interlocking buckles, so many pouches of weird sizes. Bits here and there in the arms, shins, and chest have what feels like metal plates under the fabric, and the open-faced helmet exposes the dummy’s blank wooden face to the world. It weighs so much and looks so cumbersome that you have lingering doubts dad actually wore this get-up at all, even if he says he did. Above that in a locked glass case, is dad’s [rifle]. There is no Equestrian word for [rifle], nor is there a word for its classification as a [gun], so you have to refer to it in English. He said it’s a weapon, but refused to say more. You can plainly see where it is supposed to be gripped like a crossbow. You can almost feel the sensation of what holding it would be like in the phantom fingers your human-side sometimes thinks you have. The odd ghostly sensation makes your spine tingle, and looking at both the armored dummy and the [rifle] makes you vaguely uneasy. There are other things in the corner, like a hilariously wrong world map dad drew from memory, some photos of dad’s late family and places from Earth, a few journals written in English, and a locked trunk you’ve never seen the inside of. No matter how many times you've asked or how hard you’ve begged, dad refused to open it. Your eyes move over to the photos from Earth, to one of your grandparents. It’s heavily faded, but the two humans are smiling and holding a much-younger Anonymous Sr, probably younger than you. He looks grumpy in the picture, and like always it makes you smile but still feel a strange mix of emotion that you don't really have a name for. From the front room, you hear the muffled sound of the front door opening. “I’m home!” Dad’s booming voice announces. You look away from the photos to turn to the door. “In the den, Dad!” It only takes Dad a dozen or so strides to reach the den, and you can’t help but blink when you see his outfit. Normally Dad wears something modest yet casual, but now he’s clad in a black, long-sleeved shirt that hugs his arms and torso tightly, showing off every line on his body. Below that is a set of rough pants the same blotchy, forest color as the armor on the mannequin, and you see a few spots where tears in the pants have been sewn up. His feet have plain brown boots worn from use, but you’ve never seen them before. ‘Oh Faust the girls are going to go apeshit when they see this,’ you think, looking at Dad’s torso. ”Oh, admiring the photos again?” Dad asks with a knowing smile, stepping closer. “Yeah,” you reply, turning back to the one of Dad’s parents. “The one with you looking grumpy is always a laugh and a half.” He lets out several deep laughs. “Ha! You’re not the first to say that. Your granduncle, who went by the name Peewee, told me when I was your age that cameras steal souls. Right before this picture, he finally told me it was a joke and I was sour the entire day.” “And you believed him?” You ask, looking up at Dad incredulously. ”I did,” he says with one final laugh. “Uncle Peewee had a silver tongue and used it only for evil.” You snort and turn back to the pictures. “Dad?” ”Hmm?” “What were grandma and grandpa like?” For a long second, Dad doesn't answer, then he reaches out and touches the glass of the picture frame, rubbing away some dust with a finger. “They were… intense, [daughter dearest],” he begins wistfully. “We were a poor family without much to our name. They both worked to support me and my sister, your aunt. They wished us to have better lives than they did, so their love was strict, seemingly unfair, or even harsh at times. Your aunt and I thought they hated us sometimes and were taking their misery out on us. I was your age when I ran away from home the first and last time. I spent four days in the cold winter before I gave up and returned home. Do you know what happened when I returned home?” You shake your head, too caught up in the story to talk. ”Both of your grandparents fell to their knees, praising [the Lord] that I returned home safe, and saying aloud how they [loved] me. That was the first time I ever saw either of them shed tears,” Dad says quietly, picking the picture up and kneeling at your side. He drapes an arm across your back and pulls you into a half-hug that you step into. With the warmth of Dad’s side seeps into you as he continues. “It’s only now that they’re gone and that I have you, your brother, and your mother do all the things they taught me make sense. It’s only now do I really appreciate them. They were the best sort, and I can only hope I do as good a job with you as they did with me.” You’re silent for a second as all the emotions inside you settle. “I think you're the best dad there is.” Dad lets out a single laugh. It’s a short thing, just a sharp exhale through his nose as he hugs you a little tighter. “Thank you, [daughter dearest]. It means the world to me.” After what you feel is an appropriate time to be mushy with your Dad (IE about 5 seconds), you pull away. “Ready to go?” He gives you the same sharp-toothed grin you see in the mirror each morning, eyes dancing with an eager light. “Of course. Let’s be off, the great outdoors call!” Author's Note A big thanks to all my patrons for bankrolling my writing. https://www.patreon.com/fuggmann
A Camping We Will Go! (3)Dad loops an arm around one of the straps of his backpack and lifts it with ease. The action makes the flexing of his muscles against his skin-tight black shirt all the more obvious. You should have packed some air freshener, because you know your friends are going to stink-out the tent with the smell of horny filly. Once his backpack is in place, Dad fingers the straps, tightening one, then smiles down at you. “Lead the way, [daughter dearest].” After stopping to grab your filly scout hat, badge sash, and bag, and once more to lock the front door, you and Dad start out to the schoolhouse Dad hums a nameless tune under his breath as he walks, taking one slow, long step for every 3 or 4 of yours. No one really pays you or Dad any mind other than a few younger mares, but he said when he first moved into town, he’d get stares from all over. “Have you been camping a lot, Dad?” You ask, looking at his gigantic bag again. ”Indeed I have,” He smiles and nods. “It was a pleasurable pastime for myself and my friends when we were your age. Ah, we were a bit, how do you say? Boneheaded? Boneheaded sometimes, however. More than once we underpacked and had to subsist on the land, or return home embarrassed. We learned quick to cook well.” You can't help but snort and smirk. “Really? You forgot food of all things? That was the first thing we packed for this trip.” ”Not always food,” Dad looks away, faintly embarrassed. “Sometimes other things. Rope, tinder, or even the cardinal sin of forgetting a good knife. Listen well, [mini-me], for few tools are as valuable as a reliable bit of steel. I will teach you this weekend.” You scoff and roll your eyes. “The Fillyscouts don’t give us real knives, Dad. Too dangerous, they said.” You kick a bit of grass with a hoof. “What a load of...” You stop yourself short. He smiles. “Oh? Too dangerous? Nonsense. A knife is a tool most valued by outdoorsmen. Prove yourself to me this weekend, Junior, and I will see you with one of your own.” 'What?' You look up at Dad, who smiles widely down at you. You scan his face for any sign of him pulling your hoof, but his expression does not waver. “For real?” ”For real,” he promises. ...Holy hell, he’s for real. Excitement bubbles up in you, and you can’t hold back the smile that creeps up your muzzle. “...Hey, Dad? When was the last time I told you that I love you?” He throws his head back and laughs. You and Dad keep walking, and before long, the schoolhouse comes into view. You recognize a few parents of your classmates already heading the same way ”What in Celestia’s name..?” ”Hmm?” Dad stops and turns to the side, prompting you to stop as well. Just a little ways off is Rarity, the town tailor, Sweetie Belle, who stands in her Fillyscout outfit like you, and a wide-eyed, slack-jawed, Twilight Sparkle, the librarian that dad warned you about. Her eyes are locked with Dad’s. You feel your muzzle scrunch up at the way the purple unicorn is looking at your old man, so you step in front of him and tuft up, daring her to do something. Rarity is quick to whisper to Twilight. “Twilight, please, that's terribly rude of you to stare like that,” she mutters, making Twilight blink and close her mouth. Rarity then looks to you and Dad with a smile. “Mister Heart! Junior! It’s a delight to see you!” “Hiya, Miss Rarity,” you greet blandly, letting your tuft deflate. You know the colty mare pretty well considering that she’s a family friend. Dad used to foalsit her when her family would go on trips, and now she’s Dad’s first choice for a tailor. Oh, and she’s never let her crush on Dad fade, even after he married Mom, making things kinda awkward sometimes… Now that you think about it, dad has lived in Ponyville for about 15 years, long enough to give a lot of mares now in their 20s janegirl kinks. You physically hiss and kill that train of thought. ”Good afternoon, Rarity,” Dad smiles brightly. “You’re looking as lovely as ever. Is this your sister that you were telling me about?” He asks, waving a hand at a bug-eyed Sweetie Belle. “Once more, I am astounded that your family produces nothing but beautiful young mares.” Sweetie Belle’s face instantly burns a bright red that almost glows against her white coat, making you scowl. Great. Another one. Rarity wiggles on her hooves like a little colt with a giggle and nudges her sister. “Indeed! Mother, Father, and Sweetie Belle here moved back into town at the start of the school year. Say hello to Mister Heart, Sweetie.” ”E-Erm, Hi Mister Heart,” she squeaks out, still blushing and unable to look him in the eye. Dad’s pearly smile makes her squeak again and look away, then he looks at Twilight Sparkle, his smile waning and eyes narrowing just a little, too little for anyone but you to notice. “Where are my manners today? How remiss of me to not greet your friend, Rarity,” he says, inclining his head. “My name is Anonymous Heart Senior, ma’am, might I know yours?” The unicorn finally blinks her violet eyes and stops staring. “O-Oh, uh, Twilight. Er, Sparkle. Twilight Sparkle, I mean! I’m the library… Librarian! The librarian who moved in a few weeks ago! That's me!” She verbally trips over herself with a nervous laugh and rubs one foreleg with the other when dad lets out an amused huff. “It’s nice to meet you?” “[That sounded like a question,]” you snark, making Sweetie and Twilight look at you in confusion. A second later, Dad flicks your ear. “Ow!” You reach up and hoof your smarting ear. ”It’s rude to speak of someone in another tongue when they do not understand, daughter o’ mine,” he says with a click of his tongue. “Allow me to introduce my daughter, Miss Sparkle. Please meet Anonymous Heart Junior, my precious firstborn.” “Just Junior is fine,” you grumble, the sting in your ear finally gone. “I’d say it's nice to meet you, but I’d be lying after watching you gape at my old man like that.” ”Junior,” Dad sharply warns. ”No no no, that's okay!” Sparkle insists, waving a hoof frantically. “That was rude of me, I’m sorry! I’ve just never seen a…” “Human,” You roll your eyes and throw her a bone. ”-Humaane before.” Sparkle finishes, looking between both you and Dad. Dad hums and rubs his chin. “I hail from an isolated and xenophobic land, Miss Sparkle. I am likely the only human you will ever meet. I’ve kept an ear to the ground for news of another human leaving the old country for over a decade and heard nothing, and thus I expect it to remain so.” He adjusts his backpack. “Forgive my curt answer, but I am to mind my daughter and her friends for a fillyscout trip, and we are due at the meeting point soon.” Sparkle tilts her head, and you can see her thoughts churning. “A stallion on a camping trip? Will his group be teamed with yours, Rarity?” She turns to her fellow unicorn. Rarity just waves a hoof. “Certainly not, Twilight. Mister Heart needs no help. If anything, WE may ask HIM for help.” Sparkle smiles at hearing that. “That's really forward-thinking of you, Rarity.” 'You bitch.' Dad’s fingertip just barely brushing your ear makes you hold back the vitriol on your tongue. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Sparkle. I’m in need of some new reading material, so perhaps we could talk more the next time I stop by the library?” The unicorn smiles a little more. “I’d enjoy that.” After saying a short goodbye, Sparkle trots off on another errand, leaving you, Dad, Rarity, and Sweetie Belle to trot the rest of the way to the school. As you walk, Sweetie Belle sidles up to your side. “Hey Junior?” She asks quietly. “Eh?” You grunt. Sweetie looks over at her sister and your Dad, who are too caught up in a conversation about sewing of all things to pay you or Sweetie any mind. Rarity’s magic pulls at one of the rough stitches on Dad’s pants as she groans with dismay. Dad just laughs. After a few seconds of silence, you glare at the smaller filly. “What? Spit it out already.” She flinches. “Uh, is he really your dad? I know you said your dad wasn’t a pony, but I didn’t expect…” She trails off. You snort. “You think I’m the strongest filly in class because I work out or something? Hell no, it’s all human blood, baby,” you say with a proud smile. ”If you're not adopted, shouldn't you be, like, part hyumane or something?” Sweetie struggles to pronounce ‘human’. “You look like a normal pony... mostly.” “Something about magic in the womb and hybrid… something something,” you shrug, not really remembering the explanation that Mom gave you. “Both me and my brother have his eyes and teeth, so, I dunno. It just works.” Sweetie doesn’t seem satisfied by the answer, but you don’t really care. The schoolhouse comes into view, and you can already see most everyone there. There are about sixteen fillyscouts with three moms between them...Make that two moms and one mareservant, as you can see a bored pegasus mare with a ladle cutie mark and a full backpack standing with Diamond Tiara’s troupe. Her servant get-up makes it really obvious. Off to the side, you spy Apogee, Zala, and Luftkrieg in one group, and Applebloom and Scootaloo in another. ...And a little further off, you see Scoutmaster Sweet Biscuit standing in her scoutmaster uniform overseeing everything. No homo, Sweet is a pretty mare. A light beige coat, wavey gold mane and tail, bright green eyes, and a colty talent in baking cookies should have made her at least a second pick for a stallion wanting a herd... Or she would be a high pick if she didn’t have an overbearing, downright patronizing view on guys. A lot of stallions are emotional, and some are just dumb and need a mare to hoofhold them through life, but Sweet is guffaw-worthy. You vividly recall how she tried to talk down to Apogee’s dad, who is a literal aeronautics engineer, at the last scout meeting. No wonder Sweet is stuck as a fillyscout master thirsting after easily scared dads. Oh well. Pathetic is as pathetic does. “We’ll see you two in the woods!” Rarity smiles and wave a hoof and you and Dad as her horn glows. Then with a flash of blue light and a ‘pop!’ She summons a ridiculously old-timey tweed dress, a tweed cap, and a whole locked trunk of what is probably clothes. Sweetie Belle flushes when a few fillies point and laugh, and both Applebloom and Scootaloo slowly walk to Rarity with resigned cringes on their faces. Your friends, meanwhile, trot up to you and Dad with grins, and Dad in-turn grins back. ”A pleasure to see you girls again so soon,” He says, planting his hands on his hips as he looks down at them. “Ready for the weekend?” ”Yes, Mister Heart!” Luft shakes her full saddle-bags. “We’re ready!” ”That the spirit!” He laughs deeply and shifts his backpack around. Luft, Zala, and Apogee’s eyes instantly train themselves on the rolling abdominal muscles in Dad’s core. “Fucking…” You screw your eyes shut. 'It's going to be a long weekend.' ”Is everypony here?” You, Dad, and your friends turn. It looks like Scoutmaster Sweet decided to start everything. The mare trots forward imperiously with her head held high. Her horn glows a faint green and levitates a slip of paper from behind her filled-to-bursting badge sash. Sweet’s eyes travel over everyone gathered, lingering for a moment on Dad. She looks down at her slip of paper with a frown. “Team Two, where is your chaperone?” “My old mare is busy, so I brought my dad,” You respond. Sweet’s frown grows and she trots up like she’s Celestia herself, planting herself right before Dad. “So you’re Mister Heart?” You hold back a snicker at the image of Sweet trying to intimidate your dad when he’s literally twice her height. Dad just smiles pleasantly. “Indeed I am, Scoutmaster. Please forgive the sudden change, as my wife was called away to work this weekend, and my daughter asked me to fill in.” Sweet lets out a long-suffering sigh as if Dad’s presence rains on her parade. “Fine, I suppose we can let a stallion come along.” She turns and trots back to the front of the group. “Just follow along with what I say and we’ll get you through the weekend in one piece, honey. Team Two, change in plans. When we head out, you’re at the front of the line between myself and Team One.” At your side, Zala blinks. “What? We’re not going to get lost that easily.” ”Rude…” Apogee murmurs. You’re really looking forward to seeing the smug look wiped off of Sweet’s face. The hike to the Whitetail Woods isn’t very long, less than two miles from the schoolhouse, but Sweet loudly INSISTED on no less than four breaks along the way for the “Stallion in the group”, making the trip much longer than needed and earning your group more than a few annoyed looks. Dad tried to wave her off, but Sweet would have none of it. Cunt. ”Okay, scouts and parents!” Sweet cries as the campground comes into view. “Your spots are marked with your team numbers. Get your tents set up, and give me a holler if you need any help,” she says, giving Dad a pointed look. You grumble some choice words under your breath. You were tempted to let them fly, but hold it back. In the tree-framed clearing, you spy a clear dirt circle in the grass with a tall stone embedded into the ground nearby. There is a large “4” carved on it, and Diamond Tiara’s clique waltzes in to take it with the still expressionless mareservant following. It doesn’t take you long to find spot 2, and your friends and Dad find it at roughly the same time, so everyone moves as a group. ”Hrm…” Dad rubs his chin as he surveys the flat patch of dirt, then up at the afternoon sun. “Not what I had in mind, but rather easy.” ”Is something wrong, Mr. Heart?” Zala asks, craning her neck up to look at him. Dad waves her concern away. “Nothing, my dear. I was expecting the terrain to be, how do you say? Less agreeable?” He shrugs. “Oh well. It matters little.” He takes his backpack off and drops it to the dirt with an impressive ‘thud’. “First thing is first, girls. Shelter should be set-up before sundown. Fumbling with a tent is no fun in the dark.” ”Erm…” Apogee, the one carrying the team’s tent, looks back at the bundle on her back with a measure of distress. “Ahh… Mr. Heart, I… Uh, I don’t mean this to be offensive, but I don’t think the tent... will be big enough sorry if that was kinda meanitwasn'taboutyourweighthonest!” She quickly blurts out. Dad lets out an amused huff. “It’s no matter, my dear,” he smiles. “I figured it would be inappropriate for a grown man to share a tent with four young mares like yourselves. Ho ho, good thing I brought my own tent, or I might not be able to help myself around your pretty friends, [mini-me]!” You blink. “What…?” You, Zala, Apogee, and Luftkrieg all blush nuclear red. Your friends probably because of the dirty thoughts running through their heads, and you because of how god-damn embarrassing this man is sometimes. ”I jest, girls,” Dad chuckles and bends down to open his bag. The buckles almost fly off and nail him in the face from how overfilled the thing is. “You are indeed pretty young mares, but a bit young for me. Now, if you were a bit older and I a bit younger…” “[Dad, enough teasing them already!]” You look at Apogee, Luft, and Zala, and are horrified to see them standing awkwardly with their muzzles still painted red and their tails flagging. You throw your forelegs around them and drag them a few yards away with a trio of yelps for the effort. “Cut the thoughts about rutting my dad, now!” You growl quite literally. The noise cuts through the fog in their brains and returns your friend’s senses to them. “Let's get this damn tent set up and get through this weekend, okay?” All three nod, still stealing glances at your old man, who wears an infuriatingly amused smirk. Apogee shrugs the tent bag off of her back, and all of you shed your saddlebags. You unzip the tent bag, then you and the girls each take a corner, pulling it out until the cheap nylon tent lays flat. Now for the tricky part; Getting the support rods that actually hold the tent up through the loops across the roof of the tent. If you’re not a unicorn, this is always a pain in the ass. ”Is there not a way to make this easier?” Apogee groans as the segmented, fiberglass rod she and Luft are trying to shimmy through one of the loops gets caught in the loop and bunches it up, again. The yellow pegasus grumbles and pulls the rod away again, unbunching the fabric before trying again even slower. ”Well, we’re doing better than some…” Luftkrieg spits her end of the rod out and points a wing to team 3. You look and snort. ”Ah’m sure it’s supposed to go this way!” ”But that's going to rip a hole in the floor!” ”We’re never gunna get camping cutie marks at this rate…” ”Girls! Please! There are instructions on the inside of the bag!” Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and a frazzled-looking Rarity are really struggling to set up their tent. Zala shakes her head as she stomps the last tent stake into place, making her dreadlocks bounce. “Not much of a tent, but perhaps they could get cutie marks in abstract art?” You laugh and drop the rain tarp you were straightening with your mouth. “Ouch! Way to lay into them!” The zebra blinks her purple eyes innocently. “I was being serious, though…?” ”If they’re having that much trouble…” Apogee grins when she finally gets the first rod through a support loop. “Shouldn't have Scoutmaster Sweet gone over to help them?” She asks, looking around for the unicorn. ”Mister Heart! Having trouble?” You and your friends turn, finding your kneeling Dad carefully cutting paracord with a large, fixed-blade knife. In front of him is a very stern-looking Sweet, and behind him is a simple, mostly-completed triangle tent of green canvas. Ah, of course. Leave the floundering fillies alone to harass a stallion. A very Sweet thing to do. ”Your concern is most appreciated, Scoutmaster,” Dad smiles and cuts one last length of cord in his hand, giving him four of the same length “But I am fine. I merely needed appropriately sized tie-downs for my shelter. The ones that came with the tent were mis-sized.” Sweet shakes her head and clicks her tongue. “Honey, look. If you needed something like that, you should have had one of your fillyscouts or myself do it. There’s no need for a stallion to be handling sharp objects,” she says, giving the knife in Dad’s hand a disapproving look. Dad just raises an eyebrow. “I see. I will keep that in mind for next time, Scoutmaster. Your wisdom is appreciated,” his eyes wander to Team 3, who look five seconds away from an inter-team brawl. “Perhaps you could assist Team 3 as well? It seems as though they could use your expertise.” How he said that with a straight face, you have no idea. Sweet nods, a self-satisfied smile creeping up on her face. Then she turns and trots to Rarity’s group. “Team 3! Just what are you doing?!” Dad turns and gives you an amused smile before standing and sheathing his knife at his hip. He must have dug the knife out of his bag when he opened it, as you don’t recall seeing it before then. “Would you girls like assistance in finishing your tent?” He asks, moving to tie down the corners of his own tent with the newly-cut cord in his hands. Apogee and Luft finally drop the second support rod to the tent after their twelfth failure. “Zhat would be appreciated, Mr. Heart,” Luftkrieg’s germane accent thickens from her frustration. “I don’t know what we’re doing wrong!” Dad stands and walks over, taking one look at the “Colemare” tag on the tent before he hisses. “Ah, these,” His voice and expression drip with disdain. “We had tents like these in the old country. Not worth the materials they’re made of, truly. This will be fine for this weekend, but I will be getting you girls an actual tent should you wish to camp again.” He sighs. “[Fucking Coleman. Following me here?]” He mutters in English. “Anyway, there is a trick to these. Let me show you.” He crouches down and takes the still unthreaded fiberglass rods in his hand. “Now I will need someone to hold the loop in the middle up just a little.” Luftkrieg is quick to make a fluttering jump to the middle of the flat tent. Like Dad asked, she takes the loop in her teeth and pulls it up just an inch. ”Wonderful!” Dad gives her a toothy smile, dusting Luft’s white muzzle with pink. “Now, we need only wiggle it like so…” He shakes the rod rapidly, but not so rapidly that the segments come apart, then feeds it through the loop. Like magic, it comes out the other side without snagging even once. “You can get off the tent now, Miss Luftkrieg. Junior? Miss Zala? Can you clip the rods into the corners there?” You and Zala share a look then do as Dad asked. It’s easy since there’s no tension on the rods yet. ”And finally…” Dad takes both rods in each hand and with a movement almost too fast to track, bends the rods and clips the final two corners into place, making the tent pop up like a spell brought it to life. “Easy!” ”Wow, that had to be a record!” Apogee beams. You look around, and sure enough, Team 2 is the first team done. Sweet is still trying to undo the clusterbuck that Rarity’s misfits managed, Teams 1 and 5 are still trying, even with their moms helping. Team 4… You look at Diamond Tiara’s tent, which is more like a small house, as it assembles itself with a cooked-in animation spell. Tiara and her pals just stand around and talk, pointing hooves and laughing at Team 3. “Whatever...” Author's Note A big thanks to all my patrons for bankrolling my writing. https://www.patreon.com/fuggmann
A Camping We Will Go! (4)”Perhaps we should help your friends with team 3?” You and your friends turn to Dad, who is watching Sweet unsuccessfully pull apart the mess Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo created. The Scoutmaster grits her teeth and yanks at a knot in the tent with her magic, doing little but make the fabric groan and strain. Rarity, meanwhile, is frantically reading the worn pamphlet of instructions to the tent off to the side. From how her brow is sweating, you’re guessing she’s not really finding anything that can help. The Troublemaker Trio are still bickering… Well, Applebloom and Scootaloo are. Sweetie Belle is tangled in the tent somehow and just lays limp, resigned to her fate. Dad crosses his arms and hums deep in his chest. “They seem to have made quite the kerfuffle.” ”Erm…” Apogee is the first to answer. She flutters her wings unsurely and paws the dirt. “Do you want to help, Mister Heart?” Dad answers by walking over, stepping over Luft and Zala with one extra-long stride. With a sigh, you look over to the girls. “C’mon. Let's go run interference if Sweet tries to send him off.” You trot after Dad, and Luft, Zala, and Apogee fall into step with you. Rarity looks up as Dad’s shadow covers her, and the relief that washes over her face is immediate. “Anonymous, thank goodness!” She sets the pamphlet in her magic back in the tent bag and trots a few steps closer, meeting Dad at the edge of Team 2’s spot. “The girls got a little overeager, and, well…” ”I see…” Dad nods. “May I?” He gestures at the mess with a hand. ”I think this one is a little above you, sweety,” Sweet huffs and yanks the knot in her telekinetic grip again. Now that you’re closer, you can see that two of the corners of the tent are tied in a simple overhoof knot, but Sweet just can’t get it loose. ”Applebloom must have yanked it tightly if Sweet can’t undo it,” Zala says exactly what’s on your mind. The zebra frowns just a little. “Will Mister Heart be able to-” Dad ignores Sweet and steps in, bending over to better reach... and despite his pants being loose, it leaves almost nothing to the imagination if you’re looking at him from behind. ”Holy hay, you could bounce a bit off a rump like that…” You hear Scootaloo whisper to Applebloom, who desperately looks everywhere else while a full-face blush travels down her neck. Behind them, Rarity pretends to not notice, but you know she’s looking. ”No joke.” Apogee quietly agrees with a nod and a pink muzzle. You scowl and stomp on her hoof, making your pegasus pal replace her grin with a pained wince. “What did I say about dirty fantasies?!” You harshly whisper. Meanwhile, Dad takes the knot in his hands and pinches each side before he pulls with just his wrists. The knot resists for about half a second, making the tendons and muscles in Dad’s hand stand up. Then the knot unravels with a sharp ‘clang!’ when the securing loops on the corners deflect off each other. Dad then reaches into the remaining tangled bits of the tent, and Sweetie Belle squeaks when he grabs her with a single hand by the scruff of her neck. He gently pulls her from the tent like a blushing kitten and sets her down. Finally, he lifts the edges of the tent with a quick flourish, laying it out in a nearly perfect square. ”There we go!” He grins and stands. “Now, how about you girls give it another go under Madam Scoutmaster’s expert eye?” The flattery just barely keeps Sweet's sexist temper in check. She chews on her words as if they were sour. “Thank you, Mister Heart… I’ll see to it from here…” She exhales sharply and turns her venom-green eyes to Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Applebloom, who all freeze up. “From the top, girls.” Dad bows out, so you and the girls follow him back to your spot, looking back as Sweet painstakingly guides the CMC through putting up their tent. After making sure that Team 3’s tent is up and not going to spontaneously combust, Sweet Biscuit huffs and trots to the middle of the field between all the packed-dirt camping spots. “Okay, scouts and parents!” She shouts, making all eyes turn to her. “We’re going to get our bonfire ready to go before it gets too dark,” she says, waving a beige hoof to the center of the campground where a ring of stones sit around a mound of ash. “This is going towards your woodcutting merit badge. Everypony is to bring back one log no less than one hoof wide, and no more than three hooves long. Be careful with your saw! Call me over once you have it, and I’ll watch you split it! Remember the wood types we discussed at the last meeting!” ”Wood types?” You blink. “I don’t remember that one…” ”You fell asleep at that meeting, Junior,” Zala gives you a sidelong glance. “I can’t really blame you, though. The Scoutmaster was… rather dry in her delivery of the subject.” Apogee shakes her head. “How hard could it be? It’s just firewood. It’s everywhere when you’re in a forest.” She trots over to where her saddlebags are laid out and pokes her muzzle inside, returning with her folded saw a second later. “Easy!” She mumbles past the plastic handle. A deep chuckle draws you and your friend’s eyes to Dad. “You would be surprised, Miss Apogee,” he says, leaning down and unstrapping his hatchet from the side of his backpack. He straps the hatchet to his belt and turns to you and the girls again. “You cannot just cut down any wood to use. Fresh wood or rotted wood will be a pain to burn, and some softwoods like pine burn hot, but burn fast and are very smokey due to the sticky resin in the wood.” He reaches down into his bag again and this time withdraws a folded map in one hand and a compass that looks tiny in his other hand. “We’ll venture out for something nice, yes? Has the good Scoutmaster taught you girls land navigation yet?” ”I don’t believe so, Mister Heart.” Luft shakes her head and flutters her wings in a nervous tic. “That's only for the 5th and 6th year scouts.” ”Hrm,” Dad looks down at the map and compass before shrugging. “Understandable. I’ll plot our course this time. Next time, I’ll teach you girls. I suppose the land is flat and forgiving here, so any lessons would not stick well. I did not bring all the supplies, anyway, like my… My…” He stops and thinks, eyes looking around as he tries to find the word. “My half-circle... math tool? [Protractor]. The word escapes me right now.” “Protractor is the word you want, dad.” You help your floundering old man out then raise an eyebrow. “Why would we need one for a map?” Dad looks at you like you grew a horn and wings, then throws his head back and roars in laughter. The noise is so loud it echoes off the trees and makes everyone in the campground look, making you want to shrink with a cringe. “Oh, my sweet child,” he wipes a tear away and smiles so wide that it has to hurt. “My sweet, begging-to-be-lost child. One day, you will learn. Until that day, I gladly guide you.” The old man gets his laughter under control and clears his throat. “Okay, let us begin.” He unfolds the map and pops open the comically small compass. After a second of staring at the map, he nods. “I think I have our orientation. Let us be off!” After a short hike to the north, where you totally didn’t fume the entire time as all three of your friends stared at your dad’s ass, Dad stops everyone at a small junction of paths. ”If my skills have not dulled too much…” He glances between his map and compass. “Then ahead should be a clearing where the weather team accidentally let a whirlwind touch down some time ago. The damage should have felled some trees and left us with much dead oak to work with.” ”Whirlwind? As in a tornado?” Zala asks, leaning to the side of the single-file line to peer past Dad’s legs. ”Yeah, my dad said the weather team lost control of a stormfront a few months ago and it ripped up some of the woods.” Apogee nods her head rapidly. “I didn’t really notice it, though.” “The snooty part of town has a weather ward or something.” You turn to Apogee. “It dulls anything harsh like wind and storms I noticed.” You flick an ear when you remember the odd tickling feeling of walking through the invisible dome. “Remember that night when we were at your place and that Everfree storm rolled in? The one the weather team kinda just gave up on?” ”Hey, yeah…" Apogee rubs her round face with a hoof as she thinks back. “It didn’t seem all that bad.” ”Is there truly magic making a weather ward there?” Luftkrieg turns to you with surprise written on her face. “How do you know that?” Dad starts walking again, and everyone quickly scrambles to get back in line and keep up. “That, girls, would be the blood of man in [mini-me],” Dad says with a smile. “One can feel it in their veins and their spine, feel the [heebie-jeebies] when magic is afoot.” ”The [hrebjnighsj-jerenighs]?” You wince when Zala hopelessly mangles the english coming out of her mouth. “It just means an uneasy feeling, is all,” you say, looking back at her. ”Oh wow…” You turn back and stop abruptly so you don’t run into Luftkrieg. Then you look around and feel your eyes widen at the scene of devastation around you. Dad wasn’t joking. The tornado several months ago ripped and broke the trees all around, leaving a mangled field with a hole in the canopy letting the slowly setting sun stream in. The plants have already begun to reclaim the damage, leaving many of the fallen trees wrapped with vines and surrounded by stubborn green seedlings. Dad carefully steps around the seedlings as he walks to the nearest fallen tree, one roughly as thick around as your barrel. “Take care not to trample the small trees, girls,” he warns as he draws his hatchet with his right hand. “They will grow up to heal this place. It would reflect well upon us to be respectful.” He taps the side of one of the dead trees with the side of his hatchet, then he lifts and drives the hatchet deep into the side of the wood with a resounding THUNK that you can feel in your chest. ”Dry and dead,” He smiles and yanks his hatchet free. “Go on, girls. Collect your wood. I’ll bring a bit back myself just in case it’s needed.” He lifts the hatchet and in single swipes, begins hacking off smaller limbs on the fallen tree. You roll your eyes, already knowing he’s going to bring a whole damn tree with him. “C’mon girls, let's get to work.” You dip your muzzle into your saddlebag and pull out the crumby folding saw that the Fillyscouts provide and look around. ”How about this one?” Apogee makes a fluttering hop over a patch of tall grass to a decently thick tree limb on the ground, one long enough to give you, her, Zala, and Luft all a log between the lengths that Sweet stressed. You get to sawing on one end, already knowing the crappy, wobbling, chineighs saw is going to take forever to actually cut through. Back and forth, back and forth. Already you can feel a crick in your neck and the rubber mouthpiece tastes terrible. While you and your friends are sawing, Zala, Luftkrieg, and Apogee keep flinching when Dad brings his hatchet down like thunder about 20 feet away. You just pin your ears back and keep working. Dad finishes his log in just under half a minute. When you hear him mutter “oops” and see his hatchet blast through the log one last time, this time kicking up dirt rather than wood chips, you know he’s done. He lifts the log and places it over his shoulder, waiting for you and your friends to finish. You growl and saw faster, but the crummy saw just keeps getting caught on nothing and it’s really starting to piss you off. A look at your friends shows they’re just as frustrated as you. Zala has abandoned finesse and is just sawing as hard as she can, which is pretty hard. Like you, her saw just keeps getting stuck. To her credit though, she’s keeping her cool better than you and only looks exasperated. Poor Apo and Luft are even worse off. The pegasi just don't have the muscle of an earth pony or a zebra, so their efforts are shaving away so little wood that they’re barely a third of the way in. Luftkrieg is going steady, but a well-to-do filly like Apogee just has no stamina and is slowing down as frothy sweat begins to build upon her neck. She lets out a whine, and you see Dad start looking for a place to set his log down so he might come help. Damn it! You're not having him do everything like you’re some kind of daddy’s filly! A traitorous part of your mind tells you that you are a daddy’s filly, but you ignore it in favor of spitting your saw out, which makes a cheap-sounding clatter against a rock. “Zala, Luft, Apo, back up a sec.” You growl and flex the muscles in your legs. Right, then left. Right, then left. Apogee doesn't need to be told twice and leaves her saw jammed in the wood. She pants and sits down, uncaring of her badge sash getting caught under her rump and rubbed in the dirt. Luftkrieg looks at you knowingly and yanks her saw free before setting down by Apogee. Zala, meanwhile, raises an eyebrow. “Are you certain, Junior? I'm fine helping.” You don’t answer, too busy swaying from one side to the other. Like pumps, you can feel the muscles in your legs churning and agitating the earth pony magic in your body like a liquid. You can almost hear it slosh as your head begins to feel light and your body hot. Even the summer air feels chilled in your lungs. Much like dad does when he flexes his own strength, you feel your muscles bulk up and strain against your skin, drawing sharp lines across your green coat as the now raging magic in your body flows like an uncapped dam. You suck in one final breath and hold it so you don’t lose focus. Before Dad makes his way over, you twist and lash out with a single-legged buck, smashing your hoof against the halfway cut section of log and snapping it along the cut with an echoing ‘Crack!’ as if it were a twig. Before your burst of might fades, you hop to Zala’s section and kick again, and once more the wood cracks down the cut with almost no resistance as your hoof bites deeply into the bark, leaving a very clear indent. The breath you sucked in is beginning to burn your lungs, so you jump and strike Luftkrieg and Apogee’s cuts as fast as you can, making two more loud ‘crack!’s and leaving you with four logs. You choke and screw your eyes shut when you cough a gout of hissing steam that makes your throat uncomfortably warm. At once, your strength fades, leaving you feeling hot and achy under your coat, so you don’t object when you feel Luftkrieg come and press herself to your side to keep you steady. “Are you okay, Junior? You didn’t need to go that far…” Luft sounds concerned as she stretches a wing across your back. You do a full-body shake, airing out your green fur with deliciously cool air and sigh. “I’m fine, thanks. There we have it, though. Four logs.” You smirk and turn to Zala and Apogee as Luft backs off, ignoring both Dad’s stare and how your legs feel like lead. “Let's get going.” Everyone sans Dad, who has, as you expected, a small de-limbed tree on his shoulder, take a log and start back down the path Dad marked back to the campsite. As you walk and focus on keeping the log balanced across your back, you fall behind a bit as your legs still ache some. Dad slowly reduces his walking speed until he’s beside you. His foal-ish green eyes look down at you with clear concern, but he’s sure to keep the girls in his peripherals. “[Are you okay, Junior?]” He quietly asks in English. “[You didn’t need to do that. I would have been glad to help.]” You grunt. “[I know, but I don’t want you doing everything. It’s not much of a camping trip if you do all the camping for us. Besides, I’m fine, aren’t I?]” His lips slowly pull downward into a frown, and the expression of worry on his usually smiling face is so strange that guilt gnaws at you. “[You broke your leg last time… It’s why I told you not to do that.]” “[I was just a little filly then,]” You argue, but your voice has much less bite than you intended. “[I can handle it now. Did you expect me to stay a wimp forever?]” ”[A daughter of mine? A wimp? Hah! Never!]” Dad’s amusement quickly bleeds off and returns to being somber as he shifts the giant log on his shoulder. “[But I die a little each time you’re hurt, daughter dearest.]” His tone makes your stomach twist into a knot. “[I feel... like I’ve failed you each time I can’t help you. I know that you won’t always be a little filly, and already you’re growing into a fine young mare, maybe too fast for my taste, but please promise me you’ll be careful with your magic? I’m not mincing words when I say that you’re a miracle, my precious firstborn. If something happened to you, they’d have to cart me to an asylum.]” Gah, Faust damn it all! Damn Dad’s fucked up ability to make you feel like this for winning an argument! You bite your lip and look around at the greenery, not trusting your mouth. After several seconds of silence, you nod your head. Dad’s smile soaks up all the guilt you feel in hardly a second. “That is all I ask.” You hold your nose up without bothering to reply and speed up, matching the pace of your friends. ”What was that about?” Apogee asks, shifting her wings so her log doesn’t fall. “The old man was just worrywarting.” You roll your eyes. “Nothing big.” It doesn't take long to get back to camp, but when your group emerges from the treeline, you see all the other teams already have their wood and are gathered near the firepit as Sweet watches everyone split their logs on a nearby stump. She has to duck when Applebloom wobbles and brings the splitting ax in her hooves down too violently, throwing a lopsided bit of firewood over Sweet’s head. As if she has eyes on the back of her head, Sweet’s head snaps and looks at your team as you all come into view. “Team 2! Where in Tartarus were you?!” She asks, eyes narrowed to angry slits. ”We… were out gathering firewood?” Luftkrieg supplies with a cringe. She shrinks when Sweet only seems to get angrier. ”Who said you could leave the campsite?!” She raises a hoof to pause the Scootaloo, who is standing on her shaky hindlegs with a heavy splitting maul held in her hooves. Sweet practically stomps up and poor pony-pleaser Luft looks almost ready to cry. ”If there is anyone to take your anger out on, Madam Scoutmaster…” Dad calmly steps right over Luftkrieg and shields the pegasus from Sweet’s wrath. “It would be I. I wished to gather quality wood and begin teaching the girls the finer points of land navigation. I did not know leaving the campground was forbidden, and I apologize.” Sweet takes a deep breath and rubs her muzzle with a disgruntled sigh. “Mister Heart, you’re on thin ice. I understand that stallions don't have much in the way of impulse control, but it’s always been a Fillyscout rule to stay in the campsite where a mare can supervise. Don’t. Do. It. Again.” She looks up at the log on his shoulder. “That's longer than Fillyscout hoofbook regulation. Have your scouts cut it down to size and get in line for woodcutting.” Then she turns around and trots back. ”We were barely a 5 minute walk away…” Zala murmurs. “Is it really that much of an issue?” “Power-tripping bitch!” You snarl, not caring that your dad can hear you curse. Gnashing your teeth, you resist the urge to run up and put a rear hoof up Sweet’s ass. “Girls, we broke the rules and Madam Scoutmaster is being very lenient,” Dad coolly waves it off like nothing happened. “Let me break this down, then we get in line,” he says with a nod as he sets one side of his log on the ground. With one hand on the raised end, he braces a boot on the middle and puts his weight down. Crrraaaaccckkkk! ...Then he snaps a hunk of oak as thick around as a small mare with a staccato of cracks and crunches with the same ease he might break a pencil, forcing everyone to look over with wide, startled eyes, Scoutmaster Sweet included. Dad hums to himself as he inspects his now halved log, which is roughly five or so hooves long. “Three hooves is the maximum length, yes?” Zala finds her voice first and clears her throat. “E-erm, yes, Mister Heart.” She looks at the broken and mangled end of the wood in Dad’s hands as she speaks. ”Thank you, Miss Zala,” Dad gives the zebra a warm smile, making her turn pink and look away. Then he raises the still-too-long log and busts it over his knee with a tooth-rattling CRACK! There’s no mistaking the wince on Sweet’s face at the noise, and you can't help but hide a snicker behind a hoof. The others might not notice it, but there’s an oh-so faint smirk on Dad’s lips. ‘I knew the old man wouldn’t take her shit lying down.’ “Did you see the look on the scoutmaster’s face when Mister Heart ripped that log in half?!” ”I don't blame her, really. I knew Mister Heart was strong but oh mare…” The sun has set, and since one of the fillies in one of the other team’s needed six tries to get her woodcutting badge, it left little time around the fire before bedtime. Fire-cooked haydogs were had for dinner and the night was capped by a single goofy campfire song that Scoutmaster Sweet led. For being a cunt, she’s actually got a pretty nice singing voice. The song went well until Team 3 tried to improvise half-way in hoping for singing cutie marks, and well… The less said the better. Your ears still hurt a little. You lay back in your sleeping bag, forelegs curled on your chest as your friends talk quietly in the dark. The night is cool and dry, so you all decided to take the rainfly off so the net-ceiling of the tent lets the breeze and starlight in. The rainfly sits in the corner of the tent along with everyone’s discarded bags, hats, and badge sashes. Just a little bit away, between campsites two and three, you can hear Dad talking to Rarity quietly over the sounds of the crickets. Looking up at the stars makes your mind wander back to earlier today when you were waiting for dad in the den. The map he drew from memory springs to your mind. Idly, you wonder if the constellations are different back in Amareica. If it’s so far away that there’s no hope of going there, it must be really far, far away, like the other side of the planet. ”Hey, Junior?” You shift in your sleeping back and look at the voice, finding Apogee’s pink eyes staring back at you. Besider her, you can see Luft and Zala’s eyes too. “What's up, sis?” ”How did you do the super-strength thing?” Apogee asks, scooting a little closer and making the polyester floor of the tent crinkle. “That was rad what you did in the forest!” Oh, right. Only Zala really knows. Luftkrieg has seen you use it before, but never asked. Apogee has been your friend for the least amount of time at just a few months. “Just earth pony magic is all,” you lay your head in your hooves and stretch out. “If you put human muscles together with magic, you get Supermare. My magic doesn’t flow very fast, though, so I’ve gotta focus and warm it up a bit if I really want to use it all.” Apogee’s mouth drops open into a little “o”. ”Buuuut…” Zala starts knowingly, making you scowl. “Junior, they should know just in case...” Resisting the urge to bare your teeth at the zebra, you keep talking. “But I overheat really fast and can bust myself up if I go full tilt for too long.” “There’s nothing wrong with that!” Apogee jumps in with a wide smile. “Every superpower has to have a weakness!” She wilts a little when everyone turns and looks at her strangely, but mares up and keeps going. “It’s like you in a Marevel movie! A young filly in a small town, born to an alien with superpowers and she gets superpowers of her own!” Even in the dark, it’s easy to see your pegasus pal’s eyes shine. “Oh mare, I gotta go look up if pegasi can learn to do alternative magic like that! Then we can be a whole team of superfillies!” You just wrinkle your muzzle. “I hate capeshit. And my dad’s not an alien.” ”Well, it’s still rather remarkable.” Luftkrieg says, shifting her pillow and laying down chin-first into it. “Mein sister might like to talk to you sometime. Junior. She’s studying genetics and biology at Canterlot University. I didn’t know your heritage was more than cosmetic.” ”You girls still awake?” Dad suddenly asks from outside the tent, making Zala, Luft, and Apo all jump and stifle yelps. You didn’t hear him coming either, but are long since used to how he can creep silently. “You should get to bed. We’re due to awaken bright and early tomorrow.” “Yeah, yeah, we’re heading that way.” You tell him, then move to snuggle deeper into your warm sleeping bag, looking forward to sleeping off the fatigue using your magic left you with. ”Actually, Junior, could you come here for a moment?” He asks, voice now coming from behind the zip-up door. With a long-suffering sigh, you pull yourself from your sleeping bag and walk over to the door before unzipping it. “What do you want, old ma-!?” Dad’s hands move like lightning and snag you up before you can struggle, then you feel him press his lips to your scalp and kiss you with a very embarrassing, very audible smooch that you know your friends hear. “I love you, [mini-me]. Sleep tight.” He chuckles and puts you down before zipping up your tent. You wait, face burning a bright red, until Dad settles in his own tent before turning around and glaring holes into your friends. “Not. A. Word.” All of them are silent as you stomp back to your sleeping bag and roughly drop into it. Then; “If you don’t want it, I’ll volunteer to take his next kiss.” Your pillow hits Zala’s face dead center despite the dark. Author's Note A big thanks to NurseBold, Nicolas H, Tim M, ncskeeter56, Thomas D, Avo, S. 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The WatchAuthor's Note A big thanks to my patrons for supporting my passion https://www.patreon.com/fuggmann The Watch You are Anonymous Junior. It’s Tuesday afternoon, a few hours after school let out, and a few days after your fillyscout trip. Scoutmaster Sweet proved that she wasn’t hopelessly dense after seeing Dad casually rip a log in half, biting her tongue and keeping her sexism to herself for a whopping full day. You’re sure she screamed into a pillow or something when she got home. That's neither here nor there, though. Anyway, you’re sitting on the couch at home. Mom and Dad are out on a date, and your little brother Redcross is up in his room doing colt stuff… you think. That leaves you vegging out in front of the TV as yet another shitty commercial tries to shill something only an idiot would buy. ”That's right, ladies! A perfect gift this Hearth's Warming season for the mister!” A grinning, middle-aged pegasus mare behind a kitchen counter croons into the camera. She waves a wing down at the overpriced, shiny copper cookware set arranged before her. With the studio lights fixed on the pots and pans, the stock sparkling effect they probably added in during the editing is overkill. “Non-stick and E-Z-Clean™or your money back! I’m so confident in this deal, that we’re slashing the price and waving the shipping and handling!” The salesmare points to the corner of the screen, where the 99.99₿ price tag is crossed out and replaced with 49.99₿. “Send your mail order to-” Bored, you let your hoof fall on the Channel Up button on the remote, moving up to some trashy soap. ”What… What did I do?” A haggard-looking mare on-screen stares up at her dirty ceiling as she lays in bed. On her old nightstand is an empty liquor bottle and a crushed cigarette box, making the grayscale of the video take the ‘gloomy’ factor to a level that's just cheesy. “I let him go… Why? Why did I say all of that!?” The haggard mare reaches for the liquor bottle, only to look at it in dismay when she realizes it’s empty. With a growl that has entirely too much effort, the hallmark of a C-list actor, she throws it across the room where it shatters on the wall. The glass breaking sound effect is so obviously stock that you cringe. You watch a grand total of ten more seconds before groaning. Your green eyes fall to the Pretendo Gamebrick on the lower level of the TV stand, but you’ve beaten every game you own. “C’mon. Can’t there be something good on?!” ”But Willow Wood is good, sissy. ” You turn towards the voice, barely hearing the dainty hoofsteps on the carpet. Standing in the doorway of the living room with a big smile on his face is your brother, Redcross. If you took more after Dad, then Red takes more after Mom. His mane and tail are a bright maroon, a few shades darker than Mom’s pink, and his eyes are a little lighter than Mom’s, being a ghostly blue. On his flank is his cutie-mark, a rarity for somepony only ten-years-old, and it’s the same as his namesake. That is, a red medical cross overlayed with the… the snake-staff thing, you forget the name. His smooth, light beige coat is the biggest cosmetic deviation. If not for his eyes and his mane being a solid color, he’d look a lot like the colty flower-shop owner, Roseluck. Well, if Roseluck had a horn. It's not that shocking that your brother is a unicorn. Your grandma is a unicorn, but you still think it’s a little weird that the gene popped back up between an earth pony and a human. Red’s sharp teeth and cutie mark lay to rest any doubts on who his sire and dam are, though. ...But unlike his almost-doppelganger Roseluck, Red’s colors work damn good for a colt. You’re no weirdo who would try to herd with her own brother, but you know he’s going to look good as he gets older. Already fillies at school give him funny looks, looks that you gently dissuade by threatening to buck heads off of shoulders. Red hops onto the couch with you and settles, watching the TV with big, sparkling eyes. “Hard Boiled has to confess her love to the Mafia Donna’s son soon. It’s tearing them both apart!” Resisting the urge to berate your baby brother’s absolutely pleb taste in television, you slide the remote over to him with a hoof and stand up, arching your back in a stretch that makes your spine pop pleasantly. “Have fun, then. I’m going to see what the girls are up to.” Red turns to you, one ear twisting to the side in confusion. “You’re leaving?” He asks. “Yep,” you slide down from the couch and start the walk to the front door. “Everything on TV sucks, I’ve beaten every game I own, I even did my homework. I’m bored out of my skull.” ”But…” Red hesitates. “Didn’t Mom say I can’t be home alone?” “She did,” you agree, remembering Mom’s warning clear as day. Mom isn’t one to spank, but you know how all moms get with colts “But Miss Lyra and Bonbon are right next door. If anything happens, you can talk to them. You’ve been home alone before.” Red shakes his head. “Nuh-uh, Miss Lyra is performing for the Canterlot Orchestra this week, and… I dunno where Miss Bonbon went, but she’s not home either.” Bewildered, you trot to the side window of the house and peer out at your neighbor's house. Sure enough, all the lights are out. “Shit.” ”Sissy! You aren’t supposed to say that word!” You turn and level Red with a flat look. “Are you going to rat me out?” The colt holds his forehooves up to his mouth and shakes his head. Well, if Red can’t be left alone, then it looks like he’s coming with you. Mind made up, you turn and keep walking to the door. “C’mon, Red. You’re coming with.” The colt sticks his tongue out. “No. I don’t wanna be around a bunch of stinky fillies.” You frown. “Don’t be a brat. There’s nothing to do here.” Red rolls to his back on the couch, making his mane flare out like a berry-colored waterfall as he turns his attention back to the TV. “We can watch Willow Wood.” He says, picking up the remote in a magic aura of pink. Gah. “Besides watching colty garbage, I mean.” You roll your eyes and flick your tail. “C’mon. Are you really saying staying inside is more fun than going out into town?” The colt hums under his breath, but doesn’t look away from the TV. Hazarding a look at the soap opera, you see a haunted-looking ‘Hard Boiled’ staring down a dark hallway as a shadowy mare that looks like her whispers in her ear. A pathetic and cliche “Fight your own darkness” scene. “Red, c’mon. I don’t ask for much. Do me a solid.” You wrinkle your snoot. “Why are you resisting so much? Heck, they’re practically your friends too.” Whatever whimsy is gripping your brother finally seems to let go as he rolls back to his stomach, face locking into an expression of genuine thought. “Welllll” He holds the L on his word as he puts the remote floating in his telekinesis down. “Okay, but I want you to get me something from Sugar Cube Corner while we’re out!” “Deal, just don’t tell Dad. He’ll kill us both for loading up on sugar.” With Redcross FINALLY onboard, you grab your saddle bags, leave a note for your parents, make sure you have a few bits and your house key, then lock-up and head out. Together, you and Red trot along the main road through Ponyville and up towards the smaller, ritzier part of town. Ponyville is a small place for sure, but there are enough well-to-do ponies who work in Canterlot and commute by train just to avoid Canterlot taxes. Like Apogee’s dad. Luft and her sister Aryanne live on this side of town too, since Aryanne attends university in Canterlot. Zala on the other hoof lives closer to the center of town near the local guard barracks since her adoptive family is mostly guards. As you walk down main street dodging stallions running to the market for last minute dinner ingredients, Red bumps your flank with his own and points a hoof. “What do you think they’re making there, sissy?” Following his hoof, you blink and see a construction crew on break around what was an old laundromat. The boards covering the windows are gone, and inside you see that most of the flooring has been torn up. The place failed for some reason, you aren’t sure why, but it looks like the new owners have plans for it. “Dunno Red. Apo said she heard her dad talking to some investor friend about making an arcade in Ponyville, so maybe that?” An arcade would be cool, you’ve got to admit. All the popular hangout spots in Ponyville are getting crowded as more ponies move into town, so somewhere new to meet the girls sounds great. Red hums like Dad does when he’s thinking. “I hope it’s a new salon! The one dad and I go to is run by this creepy old mare,” the colt says with a shiver. “Euh! We only go in when she’s not there. She always talks funny to dad.” ‘Hitting on him.’ You roll your eyes, unsurprised. “Keep dreaming, Red. I think the town needs an arcade more than a salon of all things.” Red just sticks his tongue out at you. The further you go from the main road, the larger and more affluent the houses begin to look, the hallmark of entering yuppie territory. Once you pass Miss Rarity’s boutique, you can almost taste the smug in the air. As luck would have it, you don’t need to walk far, because you can See Luftkrieg and Apogee turn the corner ahead. Both of your friends smile and trot a little faster towards you and Red. “Hey Junior. Hey Red.” Apogee grins as she and Luft come to a stop before you. She flicks an ear. “What brings you out here?” “Looking for you, actually,” you say. “Nothing to do back home so I figured I’d see what you girls were up to. I had to bring the runt because my folks aren’t home.” “Sissy!” Redcross whines, stamping his little hooves. “I’m not a runt!” You smirk and press your wither to his, making a show of your half-hoof of extra height. His ears barely come up to your nose. Red might be tall for a colt, but you’re still the biggest pony in your age group by a longshot. “Really?” Red puffs his cheeks out in annoyance. “If you keep making fun of me, I’ll tell dad!” You roll your eyes but step off, knowing he’s a big enough cryfoal to actually do it. ‘Jeez Red, grow some thicker skin.’ “You’re not a runt, Red. Junior is just fat is all,” Apogee grins as Luft tries to hide a snicker behind one of her white wings. Red, the little shit, giggles along with them. “Fat, hmm?” You grind out, slinging a foreleg over Apogee’s neck, making the other filly go pale under her coat. She gags when you tighten your grip, drawing a smirk from you. “I’ll have you know that I’m a solid eighty equestrian pounds of mare and muscle. Don’t you dare besmirch my gains!” You shake her like a griffin nanny would a foal. Which is to say violently. “Ack!” She paws at your leg. “Gains? I’ve never seen you set a hoof in a gym before!” You just tighten your chokehold and make her cough. After letting Apo struggle for a few seconds, you let go and sniff with your muzzle held high in superiority. “So, where to?” “We were going to go to the creek and try to sift for crawfish,” Luftkrieg lifts one of the flaps of her saddlebags, showing you a folded up net and a little steel pot inside. “We never had them in Germaneigh, so Apogee said she’d take me to catch some!” “Crawfish? You mean crawmoms?” Red tilts his head. “Those little pinchy lobster things? Why do you want them? You snort. “To eat, duh.” You almost forgot that pegasi like fish and the like. “You boil them until they’re red, then you pop ‘em open and eat them.” “You like crawfish, Junior?” Luft asks with a curious blink. You just smile wide and put your canine teeth on display, making Luft tap her forehead in a ‘duh’ moment. “Eww…” Red grimaces as a shiver runs down his back. “They’re like bugs. That's gross.” “No no, they’re really good! Honest!” Apogee says enthusiastically, leaning forward. “Just try one! You’ll like it!” Red shies away, stepping behind you. “I dunno…” “At least help us since you can grab them without being pinched.” You say, eyeballing your brother’s horn. “If you do, I’ll get you one of those Le Bombe eclairs from SCC when we head home if you don’t tell mom and dad.” The bribe works wonders, because Red perks up instantly. “Okay! You’re the best, sissy!” He smiles and cuddles up into your side. You smile. “Don’t forget it.” The trot to the creek isn’t very long. You, Red, Luft, and Apo just follow the river cutting through town out to the edge of the Whitetail woods. There, the clear water crosses a shallow riverbed filled with smooth stones before it snakes deeper into the woods. The smell of the running water and mossy rocks tickles your nose, and the delicious phantom taste of boiled crawfish ghosting along your tongue makes your mouth water a little. No knock on Dad’s cooking, but fresh crawfish beats leftovers. “This looks like a good spot!” Apogee declares, shrugging off her saddle bags at the edge of the creek. “Perfect angle for ingress and egress…” She pokes at the muddy shore. “Nice flat path through the river rocks…” A yellow hoof dips into the water. “The water isn’t even cold! Yep!” Apo beams and shakes the droplets from her hoof. “This is going to be a dinner of champions!” “Dinner of champs, right.” You dryly reply, even if you’re eager for fresh crawfish too. “Any reason Zala isn’t here?” Luft’s face screws itself up into a funny expression, as if trying to hold back a laugh while also being remorseful for laughing. “E-Er, she said that she doesn’t like shellfish.” “A crawfish gave her a teaty-twister or something, gotcha,” you nod sagely, making Red burst out into colty giggles. “I get it. The little buckers are mean.” Luftkrieg’s face breaks out into an appalled blush, but Apogee laughs so hard that her wings have to pop up to steady her lest she fall over. “Hahahaha!” Apogee bites her hoof to stifle herself. “Firsthoof experience?” You say nothing as you wade into the creek and start flipping rocks for crawfish, but make a point to not step anywhere deep enough to submerge your teats. ‘It’s because the water is cold.’ You tell yourself. ‘Apogee has that pegasus thermal fat. She wouldn’t know it was cold out even if it was snowing.’ Luft shrugs her bags off and assembles her bamboo-handled net, then she and Apo follow into the creek after you. After some hesitation, Red tentatively steps into the water as well, his horn already alight with a rosy aura. ‘Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.’ You flip a few of the flat rocks in the creek over, turning the mud at the bottom of the creek bed and making dark little plumes, but get nothing to show for it. After a few more rocks, you frown. “Any luck?” You ask Red and the girls. Red shakes his head, turning a rock in his magic around as he inspects it. “I’m not finding anything, sissy,” he says, dropping the rock back into the water with a ‘plop’. He shuffles his hooves, kicking up cloudy mud as he sifts through the creek bed. He lifts a hoof and grimaces at the muck on it. “Nothing at all.” “Nothing yet…” Apogee mutters. She lifts a rock from the creek in her hoof and turns it over as Luft waits at her side, net ready. As the mud settles again, they find a whole lot of nothing. “Huh. Normally they’re teeming around this part of the creek. What's up with this?” Apogee tilts her head with a confused face. Luftkrieg shifts the net held in the crook of her foreleg. “Were they washed downstream? Or maybe they’re stuck upstream?” “I don’t think they’re downstream,” you look towards the lake. “They like flowing water, so whatever it is must be upstream.” You look back to your friends and baby brother. “Let's follow the creek and see what's up.” As a group, you all wade further up the creek, stopping only briefly to overturn rocks only to yet again find nothing. As you walk, you feel your temper begin to fray as your stomach growls. If you find out someone has already fished the creek dry, then they’re going to be enjoying an after-meal snack of their own teeth. “Wah..?” Luft’s eyes widen and she spreads her wings to stop everyone behind her. “Look!” You look past her and feel your own eyes widen. Apogee’s jaw drops, and Red gasps before he cuddles behind you in fright. In the clear water ahead, the creek is absolutely crawling with crayfish of all sizes. There’s so many that the river rocks are hidden from view, making the ground seem like it’s alive. All of the little crustaceans are crawling over each other to try and get to a mound of bodies in the middle, who are all crowded around something. The mound is so high that a few of them are poking out of the water. “Wow, there's so many, and they're big too!” Apogee steps forward to get a closer look. “What are they doing?” You push Red a little further behind you and turn broadside to shield your brother a little more. This is really making the needle on your finely honed strange-shit-o-meter tick past green and into yellow. “I don’t know. I just know this isn’t normal…” You say. Like Apo said, the crawmoms are much bigger than normal, easily almost twice the size they should be. Luftkrieg sweeps her net through the water, scooping a few of the oversized crawfish up without any fuss at all. They don’t even try to scuttle away, instead just mindlessly trying to get to the center of the pile through the fabric of the net. Unnerved, Luft tips her net and dumps them back out. “Should we go tell someone?” Red timidly asks. “I thought they were supposed to be under rocks and stuff.” “They are,” you frown in thought. You really want to know whats going on, but even with as oddly passive as the crawfish are being, you’re not about to step between them to get the mound of bodies. “Hey, Red? Can you lift some of them from the pile and see what they’re crowded around?” Still hiding behind you, Red rests his chin on your back and lights up his horn. A few of the crawmoms are picked up in a pink aura and gently dropped back in the shallow water of the shore, squirming in protest all the while. Red pokes his tongue out in concentration as he shifts the crustaceans around faster than they can pile back up again. Apogee and Luft take to the air with flaps of their wings, hovering over the crowd of crawmoms as the mound slowly shrinks. When an opening big enough for a hoof is made, Apogee darts down and grabs the thing all of the mini-lobsters are crowded around, pulling out… “A pocket watch?” You furrow your brow as the silvery thing dangles in Apo’s grip. “Why would..!” You don’t get to finish as the crawfish all shudder as one, then they all bunch up into a ball, grabbing each other with their pincers to act as one. then they surge up at Apogee like a wave! “Ahhh!” Apogee freaks out and throws the watch at you as she flies up and away, missing being caught by inches. “Get away!” The wave of scuttling crawfish follows the watch as it flies, trying to snatch it out of the air only to miss. You raise your hooves with a flinch as the watch flies at your face, just barely nabbing it before it beans you in the muzzle. With the dry sound of shells shifting, the huge wave of crustaceans turns its attention to you and a wide-eyed Red. “Why did you throw it at me!?” You yell in panic. Before you can get an answer, you turn and snatch the dumbfounded Redcross by the scruff of his neck and sling him over your back like a sack of rice before bolting to the shore. You dare not look back and silently urge your magic to start flowing so you can run faster as you hear the churning of the water getting closer and closer. ‘Shit shit shit! Faster, please!’ You almost beg your magic as a shadow looms over you. “Junior!” Luft and Apogee scream. In the frog of your hoof, the watch grows warm, and to your shock, the thick streams of mana running through your veins roar and flow like the water you’re tripping through. With a grunt and a leap, you fly through the air just as the crawmoms come down like a tidal wave, crossing a solid thirty human feet in one jump. You land and skid to a stop, making furrows in the grass. Turning, you watch the crawfish crash down into the water and explode everywhere as they lose their grip on each other. Luftkrieg and Apogee land lightly next to you, their wings out and ready to flee. In the creek, something silent seems to shift in the water. The crawfish, seemingly in a trance earlier, now freak out and scuttle away, all of them running and hiding under rocks. A moment later, and no one would be able to tell that a few hundred of them just tried to seize you. You shift your shoulders and let Red down, then look down at the mysterious watch in your hoof. The grass stains from your sliding landing do nothing to cover the brilliance of the watch. In the late afternoon sun, it shines a pure silver, unmarred by rust from its stay in the water. In the cover etched into the metal is a seven pointed star, each point ending on a corner of the heptagon-shaped body, while the back bears a rune you’ve never seen before. Filled with curiosity and dimply aware of Apo and Luft watching over your shoulder, you tap the button to pop it open and find… nothing. The inside of the pocket watch is empty. Where the actual watch would sit is just the blank face of the other side of the back-casing. But on the inside of the cover, something is scratched into the metal… “A memento from the First One dead…” You blink, wondering what in the world the ominous line means. “Hic…” You turn quickly toward the sound and bite your lip. Red peers up at you with blue eyes filled with tears as his shoulders begin to shake. “S-Sissy…” Uncaring if you get ribbed for it later, you push past Luft and Apogee to pull Red into a hug, tossing the empty watch down by your bags. “Hey, don’t cry. You’re alright…” You rub a hoof along his back. “C’mon, that was scary but everything is fine…” The colt presses his face into your neck before shuddering and letting out a great, hiccuping sob that just hurts you as a mare to listen to. You just hug him close and let him cry it out, ignoring the itch in your eyes and the pounding in your chest. Mares don't cry from fear. After a minute, Red’s tears slow to a trickle, and he doesn’t whine when you let him go and back up a step. “Better?” He sniffles and nods, looking at the ground. “Yeah…” “Wanna eat some of those crawfish in revenge?” He wrinkles his snoot. “What if they taste nasty?” “Then I’ll eat yours,” you say, doing your best to be patient. “Then we can get you something sweet on the way home.” Red sniffles again. “Okay.” You turn to Apogee and Luft, who both still look spooked. “Still up for a crawfish boil? I’m starving,” you say, looking between them and the still upset Red. Thankfully, both get your hint to mare up in front of Red. “Sure am!” Apogee smiles. “My dad made some boiling powder from scratch! They’re gonna taste great!” Luft nods along. “Mein gott, I can't wait!” She smiles maybe a little too wide. Being an entirely too polite germane filly, seeing Red cry must have really tugged at her heartstrings. “Let's go!” Red smiles back wanely. You all head back to the creek, though Red takes some coaxing to get back into the water. With the crawfish acting normal again, they’re hidden under their rocks and the fun of catching them is back. Red squeals and dances around when one zips by his hoof, and Luftkrieg yelps and flails when one painfully pinches the frog of her hoof, but before long you all gather up a net of wriggling morsels. You then find a nice spot to make a little fire, and proudly using the new knife Dad got you, you shave a stick down into tinder and start a little cooking fire just as you'd been shown. About twenty minutes later, you’re enjoying a dinner of bright red, fat crawmoms. “Sissy…” You sigh and swear to yourself. ‘Not going to get annoyed, I’m not going to get annoyed…’ You keep your mantra to yourself and take the crawmom that Red hoofs to you. With three deft motions, you crack the tail and both claws. “Red, you’ve got TK. I know you can pop them open,” you say, hoofing the steamy snack back to Red. He blinks, then picks the crawfish up in an aura of pink. “But I like it when you do it. You always do it right,” he says, shoving the tail meat into his mouth and chewing slowly. ‘I… can't be mad about that one.’ You sigh again and crack your last claw between your teeth before sucking it from the shell. “Hey, Apo,” you swallow your bite. “Your dad’s boil mix is pretty good. Got a recipe?” Across from you, Apogee glares and holds her tongue out as she pants. “What? It’s way too hot! Look at Luft!” The other pegasus is red as a cherry, her white fur doing nothing to hide how she’s feeling the heat, but the crawfish are so damn good after a soak in the boil mix that she keeps forcing bites down. “Würzig, würzig, würzig…” she chants some germane nonsense with tears in her eyes and pops another hunk of tail into her mouth. You shrug. “It’s not that bad. Red’s a colt and he’s handling it fine.” Red looks up, his brow furrowed. “What's that supposed to mean?” “It means Luft and Apo are bitchmade,” you smirk. “Ha ha…” Apogee rolls her eyes, then she takes on a more serious expression. “Junior? What are we going to do with the watch?” She says. “Are we going to tell someone? It made the crawfish berserk and it’s obviously some kinda magic. Do we put it back?” Both Red and Luft look at you too, Red with apprehension and Luftkrieg with conflict. “Who would we even take it to?” Luftkrieg ruffles her wings and tosses her head, throwing her mane out of her eyes. “Someone’s parents, mein sister?” You shift on your haunches. The watch… You remember vividly how your magic, thick and sluggish as molasses, jumped to your command like an eager dog just holding the thing. How did it do that? And the inscriptions. Why a seven-pointed star? Who is the First One and how did they die? Why a watch as a memento? And to whom? Where are the other parts? The questions burn inside you, and just just want to know so bad. “I heard the new librarian is some kind of expert spellcaster,” Apogee supplies, blinking her wine-colored eyes “She’s from Canterlot and worked for Princess Celestia or something. Maybe she’ll know what to do with it?” “No.” All the eyes around the dying fire turn to you, and Dad’s warning to be wary of Twilight Sparkle rings in your skull. “We’re going to be the ones to figure this thing out, so we’re not going to tell anyone.” “Sissy,” Red looks at you with big, worried eyes. “What about the crawmoms and how they went crazy? What if the watch does something else?” “We’ll lock it in a magic-proof box when it needs to be put away,” you reply back. “Do you still have that insulated box? The one that mom made you practice using your hooves with when you were little?” Red touches his bottom lip with his hoof in thought. “I think so.” “Easy. See?” You smile. “Gals… and guy. We’ve got a premium mystery on our hooves here. Don’t you want to find out about this thing? Or how it got here or who it belongs to?” “Well… when you put it that way, maybe a little…” Apogee rubs one foreleg with another and smiles sheepishly when Luft gives her a flat stare. “What? If nothing like that happens again, it sounds like it would be fun! A gang of friends solving a mystery around a mysterious artifact they found by random chance one day? Or maybe it wasn’t chance at all and we were meant to find it!” She grins, actually amping herself up. “Will it do more or tell us more if we find the rest of the watch?” “Exactly what I was thinking,” you grin back. “Red, Luft, you in? I think I can guess Zala’s answer already since zeebs are into kooky magic and all that.” “I dunno sissy…” Red mumbles. “It sounds like fun, but…” he trails off and tucks a bit of his mane behind his ear with magic. “I don't wanna unless you're with me, okay?” You smile and lay your head on top of his, your chin resting between his ears, making him smile. “Duh. If something happened to you, mom would skin me alive.” Luftkrieg sighs. “I think I’ll be outvoted on this… but!” She levels you with a serious look. “I think we should tell someone if things get dangerous,” she says sharply. “Mein sister loses enough sleep as it is, so I don’t want to worry her over me.” You smile and pull away from Red. “Sounds like we’ve got a new summer project.” You and your brother arrive home just as the sun begins to set, right at the tail end of your curfew. Pushing open the door, you smile and shake yourself, airing your sweaty coat out in the AC. “That's the stuff…” “Dad! Mom! We’re home!” Redcross scampers past you and into the living room with all the surgery energy of a foal-sized eclair. If anything lifts the spirits of colts, it’s got to be expensive sweets. You follow Red after shrugging off your saddlebags by the door, trotting into the living room just as Red bounds up onto the couch and into Dad’s lap. “Ah, there you two are,” Dad rumbles as he holds Red’s head and strokes the colt’s smiling cheeks with his thumbs. Dad’s fancy date attire is already gone and put away, leaving him in his pajama bottoms and a sleeveless white shirt. “Little late going home, no?” “They’re fine, honey,” Mom says from her recliner. Her black dress is still on, but her pink mane is down. Her eyes are glued to the evening news on the TV as she talks. “They’re home before dark just like we said.” “Hmm, true,” Dad concedes as you hop up on the couch and sit next to him. “Did you two enjoy your day out?” Red smiles and nods. “Mmhmm! Sissy, Luftkrieg, and Apogee took me to the creek to catch crawmoms.” “Hoho, really now?” Dad smiles back at Red and smooshes the colt’s cheeks in his hands, making Red giggle and playfully struggle. “No wonder the leftovers in the refrigerator are untouched. I may have to go out sometime…” Dad pauses, his eyes narrowing a little. “Redcross? Your eyes are a little…” he pauses to think of the word. “Puffy? Are you alright?” You feel your heart stop as Mom looks over to Red intently. If he cracks and tells them what happened, you’re beyond dead for putting him in danger, even if it was an accident. ‘Red, for the love of Faust, don’t say anything!’ Red blinks. “O-Oh. Uh, a crawmom pinched my hoof really hard, Dad. It’s okay because sissy ate him though!” Mom lets out a relieved sigh and turns back to the TV. Oh Faust you nearly had a heart attack. Sometimes you really love your brother. “Aww…” Dad’s face softens. “Which one?” Red shyly holds his left hoof up, and Dad leans in to kiss it with an exaggerated smooch sound. Thankfully, Dad doesn't look too hard. “There! Any better?” Red smiles, but you roll your eyes. Kissing booboos when Red is ten years old? Really? “Hrm?” Dad reaches up and wipes a finger across the corner of Red’s lip, coming back with a smear of creme. “I thought I smelled sugar on your breath. A lot of it. Anything to say?” Red’s eyes bug out. “Sissy bought me it at Sugarcube Corner!” The rat bastard throws you under the carriage without a second thought. Dad turns his eyes to you, one unamused eyebrow raised. ‘Kindly go fuck yourself, Red.’
A Camping We Will Go! (1)Junior's friends have never really met her family. Not that Junior was hiding them, they just lived on the opposite side of Ponyville from the school. When the parents of the other fillies are busy one night, they decide to go to Anon Jr's place to do homework and hangout. The three fillies know Junior isn't 100% pony, and she's told them such. Even if she didn't, the predator teeth, weird speech accent, un-pony way she stalks forward instead of cantering were all dead giveaways. They had no idea what a "hyumane" was though. They get to Junior's house and notice something off. It's a big house, but not in the way they expected. Everything seems scaled up a little, just enough to be noticeable. Junior throws open the door and yells something in... They don't know what language. Sometimes Junior would say things in a language that isn't Equish, but this is the longest continuous string that they heard. All three fillies freeze when a rumbly voice answers back, plainly audible despite being a normal volume. The floor shakes a little as slow footsteps approach from beyond their view, but other than the vibration as they feel, the footsteps themselves are totally silent, making their coats stand on end. Something rounds a corner in the off house. Standing almost three times their height and easily twice as tall as a mare with his head only inches from the ceiling, Anonymous Senior silently stalks forward like his daughter does, regarding them with small, piercing eyes that root them in place. Junior approaches the hulk without any fear, and he drops to a knee, hand reaching out. The three watching fillies can't even scream out a warning when a pair of long arms ending in hooked digits snags Junior off the ground, pulling her into... A hug? "Old man!? Lay off! My friends are right there!" Junior bites out, but she isn't struggling anywhere near as hard as she could. The hyumane hums deep in his chest, and all three spectators can feel it vibrate the ground under their hooves. "Don't tell me my baby girl is already too old for a hug from me? It breaks my heart." He says, words framed by an accent only shared by Junior. Junior stops struggling and huffs, but goes beet red through her green coat when her sire kisses the top of her head and quietly laughs, a sound as sweet and rich as melted chocolate. Anonymous Senior finally lets his daughter go and turns to the three ramrod rigid fillies. "You must be the three I hear about so often." He gives them a gentle smile that shows off just a few sharp, gleaming teeth. "Come in and make yourselves comfy. The missus is working a little late tonight, but I'm sure I can feed and entertain you myself." He rises and turns back to the kitchen, silently moving back to it. "Dinner will be soon, so try not to fill up on junk, hmm?" Junior huffs one more time and turns back to her friends. All three are looking away with burning red blushes, expressions all some mix of fright and arousal, tails flagging all-round. The scent of arousal hits the younger Ymous's nose, making her wrinkle her snoot. "That's gross." You are Anonymous Jr, otherwise known just as Junior. About two weeks back, your pals Apogee, Zala, and Luftkrieg came over to your place to hangout after school... And just like Little League did the time she was over, all three perved on your dad. Gross... Which is why you're dreading tonight. Your mom unexpectedly got a late shift at the hospital, and she was supposed to be your team's chaperone for a fillyscout camping trip in the Whitetail Woods. Zala's parents were busy, Apogee's dad knows nothing about the outdoors, and Luft's sister Aryanne is swamped in college coursework. Meaning you had to ask your dad... You trudge into your house with your friends following just a few steps behind, already knowing dad's answer. "Welcome home, [Mini-me]." Dad's deep voice calls from around the corner to the kitchen, his words switching to English halfway. "How was your scout meeting?" You throw off your scout uniform and throw it on the couch as you pass it. Your friends keep theirs on as you all round the corner. Standing at his huge height of twelve imperial hooves tall, dad easily reaches into the highest cupboard above the stove as he watches a simmering pot on the stove. Too fast for most eyes to track, he throws a pinch of spice into the pot and replaces the little shaker in one seamless movement. "It was okay..." You answer, looking around and wondering where your hellion of a little brother is. "Say, dad, mom got a screwy shift, so she can’t watch me and the girls during our camping trip. Could you… Fill in for her?” Then a thought hits you. “If you’re watching the brat this weekend that's fine,” you add, trying to sound nonchalant. Dad hums in his chest, the sort of hum that you feel in your own chest from a distance. He finally turns away from dinner to face you. You scowl when, to your right, Luftkrieg openly blushes at the noise. ”You’re in luck then, [daughter dearest], because your grandparents took Redcross for the weekend. Something about an art show in Canterlot so he doesn’t feel put out about not being allowed to go on your camping trip,” Shit. You bite your lip to keep from swearing in front of your dad. Dad then smiles a toothy smile when he sees your friends. “Ah, how rude of me. It’s a pleasure to see all of you again, girls.” ”I-It’s nice to see you again too, M-Mister Heart!” Zala forces out, smiling nervously. Luft rapidly nods along and Apogee tries to say something, but it just comes out as a squeak that makes her already red face flush deeper. You are so glad human noses are so much weaker than a pony’s. Even with your muted hybrid sense of smell, your friend’s collective arousal is as thick as it is disgusting. If dad could smell this, you would pray for Faust to smite you on your hooves. Considering you now have to live in a tent with this smell come tomorrow for a whole weekend, you may still pray for that smiting. ”Make yourselves at home, girls. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so,” dad smiles one last time and turns back around to the stove. “I would love to go camping with you all. I haven’t been out on a trip longer than a day since I came here from the old country.” Earth… You can’t help but wonder about the land of humans. Dad said his side of the family is dead and gone, and that the isolated land is nigh impossible to get in or out of, but you still wish you could go there just once to visit your countrymen. ”So, this weekend, then?” Dad continues, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Yep…” You hold back a sigh and wonder how the rest of the class is going to take this. Or the rest of the parents. Considering your dad, there is going to be a LOT of emaresculated moms there. ”Sounds like a plan, then,” dad chuckles. “I’ll have to dig my old pack out and see if the moths have eaten it or not.” “Thanks, dad. We’ll be in my room!” You call over your shoulder as you trot away, silently shooting all your friend’s a glare to follow. They do. You lay sprawled out on your bed, glaring at the math homework spread out before you. Fucking Cheerilee. Can’t even let ease up off when she knows that the fillyscouts are going to be gone until monday. ’Just do it all tonight then.’ You mockingly replay your teacher's words in your head. 'Maybe you need to get laid, you uptight cunt.' ”Say, Junior?” You look up to Apogee, who has all her homework done already. The pegasus blinks. “Does Scoutmaster Sweet know that your dad is taking your mom’s place?” “I told her I’d get a parent, not which one,” you grunt, returning your eyes to your homework. You take your pencil in your lips and jot down an answer to one of the questions, 90% sure it’s right. “She can’t really force guys away. Mac Apple was one to foalsit Applebloom and her misfit troupe last time.” ”Well, yeah, but Mac Apple is a farm colt, it’s a bit different,” Apogee replies, picking her homework up in her lips and stuffing it in her book bag. “And Scoutmaster Sweet is friends with Tiara’s mom, who is kinda…sexist?” ”The scoutmaster might try to make things hard for Mister Heart…” Luftkrieg weighs in, her germane accent thickening a little in concern. You scoff. “All of you are worrying too much. The old man could eat a bowl of tacks without any milk. He’s the furthest thing from dainty.” ”You might be biased, though, Junior,” Zala jumps in, looking away from her homework as well. She rises off her belly into a seated position. “Your father is a very sweet stallion, and we just want to be sure he’ll be okay.” “Not because you’ve got the hots for him?” You bluntly ask, making all three of your friends flush red and look away. You sigh. “Look, don’t worry about my dad. He’ll be fine.” ”Girls! Dinner is ready!” Dad’s voice echos up to the second floor. Everyone’s homework is promptly abandoned as you, Zala, Luft, and Apogee hop off the bed and bolt downstairs. ”-at filly busted her leg just like Junior did last summer.” You round the corner to find your mom, Redheart, telling Dad about her day as she sits down at the head of the table. It must have been a hard day, because Mom’s usually pristine white coat is slightly off-colored with sweat, and her usual mane-bun is let down, letting her mane spill down her back. ”Aww, poor gal,” Dad clicks his tongue at Mom’s story as he takes the pot off the stove. Your mouth waters a little when you catch the scent of red lentil in the stew the pot no doubt holds. “Well, it could have always been worse.” “Hey, mom,” you pick that time to interject as you take the spot to her left. “How was work? Sounds like a bad one.” ”Hey yourself, kiddo,” Mom smiles tiredly. “It wasn’t bad, just a lot to do today. Sorry about your camping trip, but Doctor Scalpel fell ill and a patient is scheduled for a surgery on Saturday. Guess who it falls to now?” ”You, Doctor Redheart?” Apogee asks as she makes a fluttering hop to get on the slightly oversized chair next to you. ”Got it in one,” Mom lets out a short laugh. “You girls staying for dinner?” ”They are,” Dad confirms, pulling a stack of bowls from a high cupboard with one hand while the other gets exactly six spoons from a drawer. “I swear, honey. You need to be a director or something for that [fucking ungrateful] hospital. Would they have even let you take that pediatrician opening if you didn’t walk that panicking intern through Junior’s birth?” ”Probably not,” Mom laughs again. “To be fair, green bean was quite a bit bigger than a normal foal, so that derailed my plans of doing it myself.” Dad’s little eyes sparkle in that evil away that instantly tells you he’s about to embarrass you. “Ah, I remember when [mini-me] was a chubby little foal. Didn’t even fit in her first onesie!” You feel your face and ears burn when your friends giggle. “[Dad!]” ”I’m just teasing you, honey,” He chuckles as he ladles out bowls of his lentil stew with his usual seamless motions. The grace dad can put in normal motions has long since stopped being fascinating to you, but it takes just a look around the table to see your friends all focused on him. Redcross once likened dad to seeing those stupid expensive sixty-frame-per-second TVs in a Canterlot electronics store for the first time. It’s just so smooth that it’s hard not to stare in wonder. Dad passes out the bowls, spoons, and is sure to include a bottle of hard cider with mom’s, making the mare smile and pull dad down into a short kiss that he gladly returns. Then he turns back to the counter and puts a plate with a fresh loaf of bread out on the table to go with his stew. “Dig in!” You can worry later, dinner is on! Author's Note A big thanks to my patrons for supporting my hobby. https://www.patreon.com/fuggmann
