No Country for Bad Ponies

Chapters

Chapter1:Crime & Punishment
Chapter 2: Going Separate Ways
Chapter 3: Hard Time

Chapter1:Crime & Punishment

Hitch Trailblazer kept an eye on the clock right above the courtroom door, his nerves on edge at the closing window of time. He’d been here for almost thirty minutes, expecting her to show up on time.

Where is she?! He ground his teeth a little, upset mixing with worry. His friend knew this was an important day for them, reminding her before she left for Zephyr Heights three days ago.

He looked about the near-capacity courtroom, recognizing many of the earth-ponies in the crowd, peppered throughout with a number of unicorns and pegasus ponies too. A buzz of conversations went on among them as they waited for the proceedings to begin.

There were a number of TV cameras positioned at the rear of the room, waiting news-reporters standing by with their camera crews, preparing for the spectacle to begin. Hitch found himself getting a bit of the butterflies in his stomach, trying not to think about what he was going to do very shortly in front of a live audience. His eyes went back to the clock once again, the pressure inside him building.

Where is she?! There was now less than ten minutes before this was to begin and there was no sight of her. He did not want to leave his spot down front in the audience as well as lose the spot he was holding for her. There were who knows how many more ponies that wanted to get inside the courtroom and witness what was about to transpire.

From a side door entrance to the courtroom Hitch watched as Sprout Cloverleaf, his best friend since colt-hood and the pony that was the center of this trial, enter the courtroom with his lawyer and legal aide, all three taking seats at the desk just in front of where he was sitting and holding onto the extra seat. Both the lawyer and the aide recognized Hitch and gave him a brief nod, relieved to see him but also concerned for his missing partner. Hitch was already anticipating the coming question from the lawyer, answering it before it left his mouth.

“She said she’d be here, and I’m going to keep thinking that.” He would not give in to doubt or belief that he and Sprout would be let down by her.

“I hope she does get here in time. It might make all the difference.” The earth-pony in the gray pinstriped business jacket tried not to look too worried and not wanting his client to worry about it either.

Sprout, hearing Hitch’s voice behind him, took only the most cursory glance over his shoulder to look back at his friend. Hitch saw the sadness and regret in Sprout’s eyes, the downtrodden expression of beaten pony, and it worried Hitch and he felt terrible for his state. His friend was looking the worse for wear.

“Sprout, she’ll be here. We both gave our word.” Hitch wanted his friend not to give up hope. A promise was a promise. But Sprout didn’t look any more hopeful for a better outcome after what he’d done and was charged with. There was a look of resignation in his eyes. He was at the point of letting the winds of fate blow him wherever it would.

And why not? He was the most hated pony in all Equestria. Sprout Cloverleaf; singlehoofedly responsible for nearly preventing the world’s magic from returning by almost destroying the Unity Crystals. There was no escaping the undying hate, ire and suspicion of every unicorn and pegasus pony in Equestria wanting him dead.

Sprout thought the most he could hope for was to be buried in secrecy so his grave wouldn’t get violated by every unicorn and pegasus in existence. They were out for his blood.

Sprout only shrugged a little and grimly turned away from Hitch, slouching in defeat as he sat in his chair and awaited the end.

“There isn’t much time. I saw the judges enter their chamber not too long ago so they’re almost ready.” The lawyer looked up at the clock over the double-doors of the courtroom entrance. “I hope she makes it before we start.”

“Yeah, me too.” Hitch took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to keep his cool. There was now only five minutes left. His friend was cutting it dangerously close.

====****=====

C’mon! C’mon! I have to get back to Maretime Bay! Sunny fretted more and more, having been staring out the window of the train at the same little stream that ran along the train tracks and watching the birds drinking for only the past three minutes.

It felt like ages before the train seemed to start moving again. She watched the station platform come into view and then pass by as the train picked up speed. The nervous butterflies in her stomach steadied only slightly, glad to be underway again but still worried about not making it back in time.

“Next stop Shadow’s Hollow; next stop Shadow’s Hollow. Please move to the forward cars to exit the train for your stop. Thank you.” The conductor announced over the address system. Sunny took another deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to stay calm.

Just two more stops to go and we’ll be home again. I just might make it in time. Sunny checked the pocket watch she kept in her carry bag to see that, fortunately, she still had about a twenty minute window to get back.

The courthouse is at least a fifteen minute walk from the station platform so if I run the whole way, I’ll make it in less than three.

And for about a minute or so, Sunny felt herself relax a little after such an intense three days away from Maretime Bay with the two princesses and Queen Haven. Who knew Zephyr Heights had so many ministers of so many departments. For the life of her, Sunny could not recall more than three or four of them, the rest of them seemingly turning into one big blur of interchangeable faces and names and titles.

The landscape passed by her window with comforting rapidness. She could feel herself growing more relaxed, enough to think about what she was about to do once she got back to Maretime Bay. This was going to be, what Sunny felt, the most important statement she was ever going to have to give.

It was serious; Sprout’s fate could very well hang in the balance at what she and Hitch were going to say in his defense. After talking so much for the past three days with various heads of State and doing a number of interviews with reporters, Sunny felt practiced enough at public speaking to speak on Sprout’s behalf.

But the train slowed down, clearly not at the station Sunny thought they would be entering. She could feel her pulse start to pick up as the anxiety returned, feeling the train slowing still more and finally come to a gentle stop.

“What the?! Why have we stopped?! This isn’t the station! Sunny jumped from her seat to the car’s exit, trying to look up further the track from the small window in the door. A calm male voice came over the address system.

“Ah, folks, we have to make an emergency stop here; apparently there’s some trouble with the crossing switch a mile or so up the line. So we’re going to have to sit tight for a few minutes while the rail workers fix the problem. We should get going shortly and we’re sorry for any inconvenience.”

“No-o-o-o-o-o!” Sunny yelled out, falling to her knees and raising her forehooves to the heavens, shaking them with fury. “Of all the rotten luck!”

“…if it wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have no luck a t all.”

Oh, how that old song lyric rang true to Sunny, today more than ever! Several other ponies in the passenger car were staring at her, witnessing the sudden outburst. There was one young red earth-pony filly even recording her public display on her cell-phone, snickering at her antics. Sunny gave an exhausted grunt and schlepped herself back to her seat, embarrassed. All she could do is wait for the train to get moving once more and hope to get back to Maretime Bay in time.

=====*****=====

“All rise! The municipal court of Maretime Bay is now in session! The honorable Judge Fairhoof of Maretime Bay, the Honorable Judge Leadwing of Zephyr Heights and Commissioner Beale of Bridlewood presiding!” The bailiff announced as the door of the judge’s council chamber opened and out stepped the three arbiters of pony justice from the each of the pony lands. The entire audience arose as ordered, showing respect for the justices.

Hitch instantly recognized one of the justices; Judge Fairhoof had been the same one that presided over Sprout’s swearing in ceremony, in this very courtroom not all that long ago. He remembered being right there, with Sprout and his mother, witnessing him take the oath of duty and receive his deputy badge. Phyllis Cloverleaf had never been more proud of her only son then she was just then. What sad irony to now find himself in the same courtroom and be a part of Sprout’s sentencing for his crimes.

The trio of justices took their seats, the paperwork of the case placed on the bench by the court officer for their final pen strokes.

“You may be seated.” Judge Fairhoof ordered and the audience sat back down. The hush in the room was intense. The earth-pony judge took up the collection of papers first, silently reading the plea entered by Sprout Cloverleaf’s lawyer. He passed part of the set of papers to the other justices seated next to him for their signatures.

“The defendant will rise.” Judge Fairhoof looked up from the petition he was filling out to pause briefly before continuing, recognizing Sprout standing at the desk with his legal team.

Spout could not miss the look of disappointment on the judge’s muzzle, feeling disgraced for having to appear like this before the very judge who’d taken his oath. He could barely look up at Judge Fairhoof.

“Council, has your client been advised of his rights in this case, the charges that have been filed against him and the plea your have entered on his behalf?” Judge Fairhoof began the proceedings.

“He has, your Honor.” Sprout’s lawyer answered for him, as per proper proceedings.

Judge Fairhoof continued to fill out the paperwork, asking more. “He understands that by entering his plea and forgoing a trial he is giving up said rights that include one: any defenses that may have been charged; two, objections to the consideration of evidence concerning his guilt; and three, challenges to the accusatory instrument?”

“He does, your Honor.”

Judge Leadwing continued with the questioning. “Your client understands that his plea of ‘no contest’ to the charges will result in a final conviction that we the justices may impose the same punishment as if he pleaded ‘not guilty’, had a trial, and was convicted by a jury of his peers?”

“He does, your Honor.”

“Sprout Cloverleaf,” Commissioner Beale spoke his name and he turned to face the justice from Bridlewood, her green eyes holding him still with their unblinking glare. Sprout gulped down the nervous lump he had in his throat, fearing what she was going to say.

“You understand that, discarding the lesser charges originally issued to you at the time of arrest, under the convictions for: Count one of Aggravated Vehicular Assault with Intent to do Bodily Harm and Count two of Willful Destruction of Private Property will result in special sentencing provisions as well as other significant consequences, correct?”

“Yes, your Honor.” Sprout’s voice cracked terribly when he spoke up, his fear coming through loud and clear.

Hitch could see Sprout was shaking as he stood before the judges, now at the mercy of their decision. Again he looked up over his shoulder at the clock mounted over the doorway to the courtroom, wondering where Sunny was and trying not to let it upset him.

“Does the defendant have anything he wishes to say to the court before his sentencing?” Judge Leadwing spoke next, getting Sprout’s attention. Sprout’s lawyer spoke up for him.

“Your Honors, my client would like to forgo speaking up and call on,” the lawyer looked over to see only Hitch was sitting behind them, the seat for Sunny was still empty, “a character witness for his defense. I would ask Sherriff Hitch Trailblazer to come forward and approach the bench.”

Sprout’s lawyer aide got up to hold the small gate of the bar open, allowing Hitch to step forward from the audience and speak. He gave the lawyer a tiny nod as he walked passed, trying to assure him that he was going to do right by Sprout. There was a small murmur among the audience when seeing Hitch stepping forward to stand for Sprout’s defense. The noise quickly quieted down with a small rap from Judge Fairhoof’s gavel.

“Your honors,” Hitch began, slowly approaching the judge’s bench, speaking in measured tones, “I am here today to ask the court for a show of mercy to Sprout Cloverleaf. I cannot excuse his actions,” Hitch stole a quick glance at his red earth-pony friend, a flash of anger and disappointment in his eyes directed at Sprout, but then he refocused on the three elder ponies in black robes seated behind the high bench.

“But as a pony of the law, I know him to have upheld the duty and ethics when faithfully serving the community as my deputy. I ask this panel to once more review his record of service and take it into consideration for-”

Woosh! BANG!

The double-doors to the courtroom entrance swung back wildly on their hinges, the metal door handles striking the concrete wall made a loud metallic ring that carried out over the audience of ponies gathered. There was a collective gasp from the startling and sudden noise but even more unbelievable, was who was standing in the doorway of the courtroom.

“It’s her! It’s her! It’s the princess!” she heard more than once muttered among the ponies she passed by. Some of the very same neighbors she’d known all her life now bowed their heads to her, like she was a member of royalty.

Sunny Starscout looked about these friends and neighbors, finding this new identity now foisted upon her a bit much to handle so quickly; like she were some ethereal being that was here to save Equestria from all perils. She had to ignore all of this for the moment as she had a job to do and was not making a good showing of herself at the moment.

It made for a dramatic entrance for the new ‘Princess of Friendship’ as a small wave of gasps and mutterings emanated from the audience as she hurried into the courtroom, looking rather embarrassed for having been so late at showing up this morning.

The three judges were not pleased to be interrupted; these proceeding having been already underway.

“Order in this court!” The judge’s gavel rapped several times to get the observers to quiet down so the proceeding could continue. The murmuring and hushed words died down, all excited from the unexpected arrival of Maretime Bay’s own legendary ‘princess’ pony.

“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry everypony…” She hurried down to stand next to Hitch, seeing him glancing down at her with a slightly annoyed look by her late arrival when she knew how important this was. Sunny pulled his head down to her mouth and spoke quietly into Hitch’s ear, upset for being tardy at such a critical moment.

“Sorry, but I couldn’t get away from Queen Haven and her endless parade of official Heads of State to meet in Zephyr Heights! This whole ‘princess’ thing is-”

“Ahem!” Judge Fairhoof got her attention away from Hitch and on the three of them sitting and waiting for an end to this interruption. “Your Highness,” Judge Fairhoof addressed Sunny, “I know you have a good reason for interrupting these proceedings, I’ll assume?”

Sunny looked suitably embarrassed at that moment, collecting her thoughts as every pony in the room waited to hear her speak.

“I apologize to your Honors for bursting into your courtroom so unexpectedly like this; it was not my intention to disrupt your duty.” She stole a quick look over to where Sprout was standing with his legal counsel; her foal-hood friend stood staring gloomily down at the linoleum tile floor. Again she addressed the three judges. “If you would permit me, I would like to speak on behalf of the accused before you render your punishment.”

There was another series of audible gasps and mutterings from the audience, stunned to hear the new Princess of Friendship was going to speak up for Sprout Cloverleaf as well. The noise level grew and once more, Judge Fairhoof had to rap his gavel.

“Now now! Any more outbursts from any pony here and I’ll clear the courtroom, understand?!”

Sunny quickly moved back behind the bar to sit in the seat Hitch had been saving for her, waiting for her turn to speak.

Judge Leadwing addressed Hitch, the noise in the courtroom subsiding. “Please continue as you were saying, Sherriff Trailblazer.”

Hitch tried to get his thought back in focus. “Like I was saying, I ask the panel to please take Sprout’s professional record into consideration before you sentence him. It is my sincerest belief that his recent behavior was an aberration and not an example of how he has conducted himself while on duty. Having been both his friend and fellow law officer, I can honestly say I’ve never seen Sprout Cloverleaf act out in such a way at any previous time. He has carried himself with the utmost professionalism and courtesy that would be exemplary in any jurisdiction. So I ask the court to please show him mercy in the sentencing. I thank you.” He stepped back and returned to his seat in the audience, hoping his words had made a difference.

“Good job.” Sunny whispered to Hitch as he sat down, hearing him heave a big sigh of relief.

The trio of judge’s attention then turned to the newly founded Princess of Friendship standing next to the sheriff, each curious to hear what she had to say.

“Princess Sunny Starscout, we would like to hear what you have to say about the accused.” Judge Fairhoof addressed her, smiling politely. Sunny got up and stepped passed the bar that separated the audience from the rest of the court and approached the bench, collecting her thoughts, still unaccustomed to being addressed as ‘Princess Sunny’.

“Your Honors,” Sunny began as she stopped to stand right in front of the high bench and address the trio of judges, “I come before you to ask for a show of leniency for Sprout Cloverleaf in his sentencing. I don’t know why or understand the reasoning that took him to act out like he had. I only know that, having been his friend since we were both young, he is not a bad pony in his heart.” She, too, stole a quick look back behind her to see Sprout standing beside his lawyer; his head bowed and still looking down at the floor. Sunny could not fathom what thoughts must be racing thought Sprout’s mind at that moment. She would do what she could to help him at this point. She continued on.

“Fortunately for everyone, no pony was injured in the event and the Canterlogic Company has made reparations to Maretime Bay. All of those anti-unicorn and anti-pegasus safety systems have been removed from the town’s streets and all the buildings on Main Street that were damaged are being repaired as of right now. Construction on my new home, the Crystal Brighthouse, has already begun. Things are looking better every day all over Equestria now with our world’s magic returning. I truly believe having all of pony kind reconnecting should be the focus of our energies now, rather than metering out some form of punitive justice that is unnecessary in light of this revelation to our world. I thank you for allowing me to address the court.” She stepped back from the bench, returning to her seat next to Hitch once again.

Sunny hoped it would be enough to sway their opinion on what she thought Sprout’s punishment should be. The room was deathly silent as the trio of elderly stallions silently contemplated what their decision was going to be. Judge Fairhoof leaned back in his chair, slowly and gently tapping his forehooves together as he looked down at the accused red earth-pony standing before him, contemplating the character witnesses’ words. He had the final pages of the petition laid out in front of him with the sentence as of yet not filled in. Wordlessly, he scribbled down some notes on a sheet of paper and slid it over to his fellow judges to read, who then both nodded in silent agreement.

“Court is in recess for fifteen minutes; council will join us in chambers.”

Bang!

Judge Fairhoof announced to the collection of citizens as he struck his gavel on the bench. The three judges got to their hooves, exiting off the raised platform and retired to the room behind the courtroom used for private discussions with the legal advisors in cases.

“Sit tight; I’ll be right back.” Sprout’s lawyer gave him a reassuring pat with a forehoof before heading off to the private meeting. Sprout just nodded silently, unable to come up with anything to say.

“All rise!” The court bailiff ordered and the crowd responded, getting to their hooves. Once more, a low murmur of conversations grew from the audience as they wondered what the judges and the lawyer were going to discuss in private.

Several newspaper reporters as well as camera crews from new outlets had been in the courtroom during the entire proceedings, recording every moment of this sentencing with the news correspondents giving their input at various breaks in the court action to those watching the live stream.

The sheriff of Maretime Bay turned to his friend next to him, annoyed at her late arrival.

“What was the hang up?! You almost missed your chance.” Hitch didn’t mean to snip at her like that, but she knew this was an important day and was their only chance to speak up. Sunny looked suitably embarrassed but had her reasons.

“I know! I know! Bu I only got away because of Zipp’s help. She made the ultimate sacrifice for me; asking her mom about ‘princess-ey’ things when she would take over as queen. It worked. Pipp managed to sneak me out of the castle and back to the train station. I caught the first train I could but it was local and stopped at every town along the way.”

Hitch let it go, that was more than enough to give her slack for being tardy. He once more gave a sigh and reached with a foreleg to put around her withers, pulling her closer with his head leaning against hers.

“I’m sorry for being such a noodle-head about it. I can’t guess at what it must be like for three whole days to be trapped with Queen Haven.” The stress was getting to him; the last ten days had been a whirlwind of change for earth ponies like himself and Sunny. Things and events were moving so quickly that it was hard for any pony to take it all in. She held him back and gave a small chuckle at his jab at the pegasus queen.

“It’s been something, alright. This is a huge change for every pony right now.” Sunny looked over at Sprout who was sitting only a few feet in front of her, seeing him vacantly staring down at the table he was seated at. She felt her heart grow heavier at the sight of him so despondent.

“This can’t be happening! This just can’t be happening!” Phyllis Cloverleaf softly cried as she tried to keep it together, comforted by some of her family members seated with her who’d come to show support.

Sunny turned around in her seat and caught sight of her in the audience, seated several rows away and behind from where she and Hitch were. The pain, stress and aggravation garnered by this trial must be something unimaginable to Phyllis Cloverleaf.

Those fifteen minutes felt like an eternity as they waited. Finally, the door to the conference room opened, the three judges returned to their seats at the bench and Sprout’s lawyer once more was by his side.

“All rise!” The order was called out and every pony in the room followed the directive. Once the three judges took their seats, the crowd sat back down to listen. The silence in the room was intense; one could hear a pin hitting the linoleum tile floor at twenty paces without even trying. Every TV camera was facing the judges as the photographers waited for the right moment to snap the next picture.

“The defendant will rise,” Judge Fairhoof ordered as he filled out some of the last lines of information on a stack of forms before passing the pile to his fellow judges for their official signature and seal of their respected jurisdictions and then addressing the accused.

Sprout got to his hooves, looking up with dread in his eyes at the three pony judges seated once more behind the high bench in front of him. He gulped down the lump in his throat, fear clenching his gut as he waited.

Judge Fairhoof spoke up first. “In light of both Princess Sunny Starscout and Sheriff Hitch Trailblazer’s appeal for mercy, taking into account of your service to the Maretime Bay community, your attorney entering a ‘no-contest’ plea to the charges to the court as well as the extraordinary circumstances in which this incident transpired,” He slid the small stack of paperwork over to the judge from Zephyr Heights next.

Judge Leadwing continued the rendering as he, too, finished signing the documents and adding the official legal stamp of Zephyr Heights’ Ministry of Justice. He looked directly at Sprout, holding him with his gaze.

“As agreed by your legal counsel, for the acceptance of this ‘no contest’ plea petition by this panel on; count one of Aggravated Vehicular Assault with Intent is to be reduced to a charge of Vehicular Assault, but, count two of Malicious Destruction of Private Property is to remain. Both charges carry a mandatory one year sentence. Under the special sentencing provisions for earth-pony courts, ordinance one-three-seven dash three; the convicted is required to serve a consecutive sentence for each charge, ordinance one-three-seven dash seven; requirement of minimum term of imprisonment of eighteen months without any form of early release and ordinance one-four-four dash six; requirement of a term of post-prison supervision equal to the maximum statutory indeterminate sentence for the crime, minus any time served.”

The officer of Bridlewood was given the collection of documents for her to add his signature and emboss the official seal of notarizing for all legal documents created in Bridlewood lands. Commissioner Beale continued the final accounting as to why Sprout’s punishment would be what it was.

“It is the decision of this judicial panel to place you, Sprout Cloverleaf, in Equestria’s work-rehabilitation program for earth-pony offenders. As Princess Sunny Startscout highlighted in her speech, Equestria is on the cusp of a new dawn for Ponykind and issuing such judgment as to never allow your return to pony society would be against the better angels of our nature. All three members of this panel express the sincerest desire that while you are away from all pony society that you give long and hard thought to the error of your ways. And in that time, you seek to better yourself so when the day comes for your return, you are prepared.”

Judge Fairhoof gave the closing comment. “I hope this lesson is not lost on you, Sprout Cloverleaf. I dread the idea of returning to this court to revisit a regression of your character if you did not heed our warning. So be it!”

BANG!

The gavel struck the bench with finality, ending the suspension Sprout had been kept in. An audible sucking in of breath to the announcement of Sprout’s minimal punishment rippled across the gathered witnesses. There was a small rush for the door by a few ponies; the press core was already on its way outside to give live coverage responses to the verdict that was just rendered.

Sprout’s knees buckled, his head falling forward in utter defeat with the knowledge of what was in store for him.

Two years?! I’m going to be locked up for two years?! The idea of being locked away somewhere far from home and anything familiar was devastating to him. He felt himself start to tremble in fear more. His lawyer laid a comforting hoof on his withers.

“It was the best plea deal I could get for you, Sprout. I know it’s going to be tough for you but I’m sure-”

“My boy! My boy!” Phyllis Cloverleaf wailed, her voice carrying over the noise of the room, overwrought at the decision as her family members tried to console her. A few photographers from the various new outlets covering the trial, recognizing her in the audience, rushed over to snap pictures of her in her state of distress.

Nothing hustles newspaper sales or gets clicks on news websites like highlighting some pony’s public display of misery and suffering.

Sprout was led away by two armed court officers, heading for a side exit from the courtroom to take him, to what Sunny guessed was, a holding cell and to be eventually transported away from the courthouse.

“Sprout! Spro-o-o-out!” Sunny called out to him, watching how Sprout’s knees buckled and gave out, causing one of the guards to catch him as he was led away. Sprout was now openly crying; a most pitiable sound that Sunny found terribly upsetting to hear.

“Mama! Mama-a-a-a!” He cried out for her, hot tears rolling down the side of his muzzle at being forced apart from everything he knew.

“Oh-h-h-h, Hit-t-t-tch!” Sunny groaned with sadness, tears of sympathy collecting in her eyes as she watched along with Hitch, their foal-hood friend exiting the courtroom, half-carried along and finally out of sight. She was so afraid for Sprout.

“He’s going away for a while, Sunny. There’s nothing we can do about it now. We can only hope the best for him.” Hitch could no more stop this from happening then he could stop the raising and lowering of the sun. His friend was in for a rough time away from home, that Hitch was sure of.

Sprout’s lawyer came over to speak with the two character witnesses he had for this case. He looked very disappointed with what Sprout got as punishment, letting his client’s family and friends down.

“I’m sorry, Sherriff Hitch and Your Highness; I could not get him the five-year probation under your watch like I had wanted. I could not convince one of the judges away from sending him to jail. My hope is once he has served, this can be expunged from his permanent record.”

“You did everything a pony could to aid him, sir.” Sunny laid an understanding hoof on his withers, keenly aware of the near-impossible task he had been handed for getting Sprout the best possible sentence.

“Mrs. Cloverleaf! Mrs. Cloverleaf!” The multitude of voices loudly called to the mother of the convicted, all of them trying to get to where she’d been sitting and practically cornering her in the throng of pony bodies.

Phyllis Cloverleaf and her immediate family were beset by reporters trying to get some comment from her about the trial and about her son going to jail. She was desperate to get out of the courtroom without being hounded any more by these intrusive reporters with their cameras flashing away.

Other reporters, unable to get close to the Cloverleaf family, turned their attention now to Sunny and Hitch, eager to get a scoop from both character witnesses and maybe score an exclusive interview with the new Princess of Friendship. They hurried right over to them.

“Sherriff, do you have anything to say about the trial’s outcome?” One reported shouted out, readying his pencil on his notepad to record Hitch’s words.

“It’s over with; that is all I have to say about that.” The Sherriff of Maretime Bay would not comment, stone-faced and refusing to give these vultures one scrap of red meat to feed their readers.

“Do you feel that justice has been served?” Another followed right after with her question.

Hitch kept on his hooves, batting back the question with another short answer. “The wheels of justice have done its duty for the public’s service.”

“Sherriff Trailblazer, is it true you and Princess Sunny Starscout are life-long friends?”

“Yes.” Hitch kept it even more succinct.

Two more reporters then homed in on Sunny, their digital cameras clicking away while the cable news camera focused on her, getting in her personal pace and making her rather nervous.

“Princess Sunny, there are several online stories claiming that you and the accused were in a romantic relationship and that your attempt to break it off precipitated the events of the evening in question. Is it true?”

That overpowering white light used by the camera crew was now blinding Sunny. She raised a forehoof to her eyes, trying to shield them so she could see who it was in front of her. “What the…? No! That not true, I-”

“As the newly crowned Princess of Friendship, what will be your first orders to the pony populations of Equestria? Will you seek to oust Queen Haven and claim the throne of Zephyr Heights for yourself?” Another reporter jumped in with a question, cutting her off.

“What?! No, that’s absurd! Queen Haven is my friend and-” Sunny tried to answer but was once more cut off by another question.

“Princess Sunny, the readers want to know when you’ll be decreeing Maretime Bay to be the new capital city of Equestria?” One more reporter shoved a microphone right in front of her mouth as more pictures were taken, the flashes of light making spots appear in Sunny’s eyes. She took several steps back, starting to get overwhelmed by the attention.

Hitch moved in closer to her, trying to shield her some from the persistent scoop-seekers.

“I don’t have any intention of-”

“Princess Sunny, six more mutant ponies were sighted near Bridlewood last week. Is it your contention that this has nothing to do with the strange magical energy emanating from the Unity Crystal now being housed in Zephyr Heights?”

“What?! That’s the craziest thing I ever heard! What pony said there were-” Sunny’s head whipped around to where she thought the question came from as yet more reporters clamored closer.

She was beset with yet another TV camera pointed at her with its white light blazing away in her direction. Sunny kept trying to keep the light out of her eyes with her forehoof, unable to fully see just which one of these ponies was posing what question to her.

“Princess, is it true that Queen Haven herself urgently requested your presence in Zephyr Heights this week for a briefing and to assign you to investigate these sightings of mutant ponies near Bridlewood?”

This was too much for Sunny to deal with all at one time, being overwhelmed by the focus of so many ponies who all seemed to want a piece of her mind. The bombardment of inquires seemed endless and she wished to get away.

Phyllis Cloverleaf and her family, meanwhile, were under much the same intense attention and were assaulted by the rain of questioning.

“Mrs. Cloverleaf, how do you feel about the judgment of your son? Are you angry at the outcome?” A reporter demanded with his microphone in hoof. Another reporter jumped in, not even giving her a chance to answer.

“Mrs. Cloverleaf, is it true that your son became raging sociopath due to his upbringing in a single-parent household?”

“Mrs. Cloverleaf, as owner and C.E.O. of Canterlogic, there are reports in the business news of financial improprieties within the holdings of your company. Is this true and what do you have to say about the allegations being leveled at you?”

“Oh! Oh, get away! Sweet merciful Heavens get away from me, all of you!” She franticly swatted away the multitude of microphones thrust in front of her muzzle, simply overwhelmed by those demanding her attention and all eager to get anything she spoke recorded.

Fed up with the spectacle in front of him, Hitch jumped into action. Startling Sunny by suddenly leaving her side, he charged right over to the Cloverleaf family and physically pushed every pony body back from them, giving them some much need room.

FEW-E-E-E-E-E-E-P!

Hitch’s whistle made an ear-shattering note as he blew into it as hard as he could, startling everypony in the courtroom with its shrillness.

“Alright! Alright! That’s quite enough now! The show’s over so let’s get moving out of the way for these ponies!” He practically yelled; his voice loud, brusque and tinged with anger. He stood defiantly in between the Cloverleaf family members and the reporters that swarmed around them like bees.

“Let’s move! Let’s move! Nothing to see her folks so keep moving!” He pointed the way out for them, most making their way out of the building. Hitch eyed those nasty pony reporters who tried to linger back so as to have a clearer shot as Phyllis and her family for questioning.

“I said get going!” Now Hitch wasn’t kidding, his anger out in the open. He was looking at the group of reporters who were still hovering near Sunny as well and he wasn’t going to let them pester her anymore. Sensing the heavy atmosphere of the room, those few who tried to stay behind finally got the message and cleared out.

Sunny hadn’t seen Hitch this upset in a long time, glaring at those reporters like he was. The past nine days had been such a whirlwind of change for everypony in Equestria, and she figured even super level-headed Hitch was going to start snapping at folks. He, like Pipp, Zipp, Izzy and herself, had had very little time to rest and regroup from the dramatic change they had engendered.

She came over to stand with Sprout’s family, standing next to Phyllis to watch as the last of these intrusive ponies file out of the courtroom and leaving them alone at last.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Cloverleaf?” Sunny saw how upset the mare was by the onslaught of questions and unwanted attention. She looked just this side of screaming from it all. Phyllis Cloverleaf looked down at Sunny, standing next to her. She could see the genuine concern for her wellbeing in the new princess’ eyes.

“Yes, thank you Prin-” Phyllis caught herself, seeing how Sunny’s expression saddened a little as yet another pony she knew was about to address her as ‘princess’. Clearly being called this was not something she was not comfortable with yet.

“Yes, thank you, Sunny.” Phyllis corrected herself and Sunny gave a small smile of appreciation. Seeing the silent pain in the older mare’s eyes and acting on pure instinct of understanding, Sunny suddenly reached out to embrace Phyllis Cloverleaf.

“I’m… I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Sunny! Can you ever forgive this foolish old mare?” Phyllis quietly confessed to Sunny as she broke down, ashamed of her son’s actions. Phyllis knew Sunny never bore a grudge against her or Sprout, in spite of the terrible way she’d spoken to Argyle Starscout and derided his research as nonsense.

“I’m sorry, too! I never wanted this to happen!” Sunny empathized with Sprout’s mom, recalling the sound of Sprout calling out for his mom and his crying. She held onto Phyllis a little tighter, giving and needing support in this difficult time.

Hitch would never have thought he’d see the day when these two mares, one losing their parent to an illness not so long ago and the other now losing their child to the Justice System, would be comforting each other as their personal lives were upended and as the world of Equestria around all of them had been thrown into a state of flux.

The gathered family members along with Hitch then got to witness an amazing sight up-close and personal. They watched as Sunny’s body became encompassed by a heavenly radiance, as if it had originated from within her body and grew outwards.

“Auntie Phyllis! Auntie Phyllis!” One of her nephew’s called to her, drawing Phyllis’ mind out of the moment of quietude and open her eyes, beholding a sight she’d only seen briefly nine nights ago. Her mouth fell open a little, speechless by what she was seeing. A golden shimmering unicorn horn was adorning Sunny’s head and a pair of golden glittering pegasus wings spread out for each side of her body.

“Sunny! Sunny! It’s happening again!” Hitch hooted with excitement, thrilled to see the magic power manifesting in his best friend once more. Like the rest of his new friends, he had no idea of how or why this magical transformation happened like it did, but he was thrilled to see it again.

Sunny let go of Phyllis, looking over herself and astounded again by the magical manifestation. With only the slightest command of thought, she made her wings flap and she rose up into the air to hover steadily in place.

The Cloverleaf family watched with wide eyes and silent wonder, hearing from Phyllis about what she’d seen on that fateful night and now bearing witness to that effect. Sunny landed back down on the floor, her translucent golden wings folding right up against her flanks.

“You…you’re one of those beings your father was researching about, aren’t you; one of those legendary ‘alicorn’ ponies now?” She was almost too stunned to ask, unable to process what she was seeing. Alicorns were ponies of myths and legends; fantasy creatures used in children’s shows and books to teach them little life lessons. Her family did not know what to say. This was something so incredible to see that none of them dared shatter the moment with nonsensical questions.

“I…I guess so.” Sunny really didn’t know how else to answer. This was only the second time she had this happen to her and longed to understand the hows and whys it was happening.

“Your father would be so thrilled and proud to see you now, Sunny. I think he knew more about how special you really are then he led on.” Phillis was honored to see Sunny appear like this again; recognizing in her son’s friend how extraordinary she was to their world.

“Thank you.” Sunny was truly grateful for the kind words. She had been thinking about her dad almost non-stop since her first manifestation, mystified at what he might have known about the existence of alicorns, wishing he had told more about them being princesses’ long ago.

“C’mon, folks, let me escort you out of here. I’m sure every pony here needs a break from the attention.” Hitch was eager to help out, wanting to end this at last and get back to some semblance of normality, if possible.

“Thank you, Sherriff Hitch. If you know of a way out so we can avoid the press core again, we would appreciate it to no small amount.”

“Leave everything to me.” Super quick, Hitch was off to check every possible exit door in the whole building. He was gone for less than five minutes, returning with an escape plan for the Cloverleaf family.

“I found a back exit in the wing of the town hall building that’s clear. We’d best hurry; no guarantee it’ll stay that way for long with the likes of those news ponies lurking about.” Hitch warned.

Taking them out a side door of the courtroom and down an empty hallway, he found the passage way still clear and waved them on to follow. The exit door was just ahead.

“You stay with Phyllis and her family; I’m going to go out there to double check and make sure no pony sees them leaving.” He instructed Sunny, wanting to get these nice folks away safely from more bother.

“Check!” Sunny stood by the door and kept watch from her vantage point, keeping an eye on the streets and watching for any pony to come walking past that might spot them.

Hitch moved swiftly down to the end of the building to peer ever-so-carefully around to corner, keeping his body pinned up against the concrete and brick structure for cover. He was right; no pony was nearby, the hoof-full that were had been waiting to give their accounts to the two news reporters and the TV camera crews. He knew it was safe to get Sprout’s mom and family away from here.

He slowly slid back away from the corner of the building, slipping away and back to the exit where Sunny and the Cloverleafs were waiting. He was wearing a smile, good news to share.

“It’s clear; we can slip them down the side alley and out onto the next block on High Street. There’ll be no press waiting to pounce on them.”

“That’ll keep them out of sight; good call.” Sunny was in total agreement. Getting Sprout’s family away from the public eye was job one. Hitch charged down to the other end of the building, coming out onto High Street and finding his hunch right. The sidewalks were clear of troublesome press ponies. He turned to wave to Sunny, standing in the doorway of the exit. She moved outside to hold the door open for Phyllis and her family to leave.

“Come on, every pony; this way.” She waved them on and pointed the way to them, making sure they could see Hitch standing at ally’s exit and making sure the way stayed clear.

Single file, the Cloverleaf family moved swiftly and quietly as possible out the door and down the alleyway. Hitch kept vigilant watch on the comings and goings on the street, making sure it stayed clear. The family members all collected next to where he stood, fear in their expressions as they waited for their protector to tell them what next to do. Phyllis Cloverleaf was the last one to join them.

Hitch escorted them across the street, his thousand-yard stare constantly going up and down the length of High Street, making sure no pony spotted them. Once on the other side of the street, gathered on the corner, Phyllis turned to her town’s loyal and trustworthy sheriff. She looked so relieved to have gotten this far.

“I can lead them from here, Sherriff. We’re staying at Grand Hotel just up the next block. We’ll be alright now.” Phyllis reached out to embrace Hitch and reward him with a small kiss on the side of his muzzle. A small flush of pink appeared on his muzzle, slightly embarrassed. This was all Hitch need to know he’d done ‘something’ to help out his old friend.

“Glad to help out, Mrs. Cloverleaf.” The Sherriff gave them a small nod and smiled with relief as they all moved swiftly up the block and further away from the mayhem of downtown. He watched and waited until he saw all of them enter the hotel and finally out of view.

Returning to the exit where he thought he’d find Sunny waiting, he spotted her down at the end of the building, peering around the corner. He trotted over, joining her to watch and listen. A number of unicorns and pegasus ponies were talking to the news reporters with cameras that were live-streaming the reactions to the ruling. It wasn’t pleasant to hear for the new princess.

“This is an outrage! I can’t believe he got off so easily! This was fixed because the trial took place in an earth-pony court! Of course he’s going to get off light! Sprout Cloverleaf would have gotten his dues in a real court of law; like in Zephyr Heights!” One angry pegusus stallion ranted as he glared into one eager TV camera. Another stallion, a golden-brown unicorn, continued the angry tirade.

“That Sprout Cloverleaf is nothing but a low down, double dealing, power grabbing, larcenist, perverted worm!” He roared fury in words. A gray unicorn jumped in, grabbing the microphone from the pegasus pony and glaring madly into the TV camera as he ranted, piling on the hate-filled rhetoric in even more graphic terms.

“Hanging’s too good for him! Burning’s too good for him! He should be torn into little, bitsy pieces and buried ali-i-i-i-ive!”

“Oka-a-a-a-ay, I think we should get back to our studio-” The news reported tried to ease of his live segment, the anger of these ponies on full display to the live audience and making him nervous for his personal safety. The nearly two-dozen or so unicorn and pegasus ponies continued to rant on at what they felt was a great miscarriage of justice. Suddenly, it got a whole lot more dangerous as these unicorns and pegasus ponies turned their attention to the few earth-ponies who happened to be nearby, waiting as well to give their reaction to the court case’s outcome.

“Death to earth ponies! Death to earth-ponies! Death to earth ponies!” They began to chant with increasing fury, moving in on the five or six stallions and mares standing on the courthouse steps. They encircled the earth-ponies that clustered close together, fearing for their lives as the mob moved in on them. Then, it happened, so quickly that it stunned every pony watching still for a few seconds.

Woosh! CRASH!

“Henry!” A middle-aged pink colored mare screamed out as she watched her husband take the full impact to his head of a beer bottle that was thrown at them from somewhere nearby, shattering on impact and embedding chunks of glass into flesh. The stallion groaned as he crumbled to the concrete steps with a hard thud, unable to brace himself as he fell. She knelt down at his side, seeing the blood now coming out of the wounds in think red rivulets.

“Some pony help me!” She cried out and both Sunny and Hitch flew action. Hitch was at the injured stallion side, assessing the situation.

“All of you get back! Get back!” Sunny ordered the unicorns and pegasus ponies to give Hitch room, physically pushing those who did not listen to her. One earth-pony mare that was standing close by wore a scarf around her neck and Hitch snatched it from her, quickly folding it over several times to make square pad out of it.

“Here, keep the pressure on the wounds to minimize the bleeding,” He instructed the weeping mare who was kneeling next to him to hold the pad firmly against the wound while bracing the other side of his head up against her leg. She did as he instructed and trying not to panic.

Hitch ran over to the nearest emergency call box, pulling open the small door and pressing the blue button to summon the paramedics. A scratchy voice called out from the small speaker in the call box.

“Paramedics service; what’s the emergency?”

“This is Sherriff Hitch Trailblazer. I have a code five-oh-two; repeat a five-oh-two at the steps out the county courthouse. Pony down with a severe head injury, send the ambulance immediately!” Hitch kept his voice calm, relying on his police training in these tense moments of emergency.

“Roger that, Sheriff Hitch! We’re dispatching an ambulance right now!” The voce called back. Within a few seconds, the siren call of the ambulance could be heard coming from across town and heading their way.

Hitch returned to attending the injured citizen. “Please remain still sir. Help is on the way.” He took over holding the makeshift bandage to the stallion’s head and keeping the victim’s head immobilized while waiting. The injured stallion only groaned in response.

“Everything’s going to be fine, ma’am. The situation is in hoof.” He tried to keep her calm, speaking in steady measures to assure her.

The wife of the injured stallion looked down at her forehooves to see her husband’s blood had stained them and she freaked out. She spun around to face the crowd behind her, thrusting both her forehooves up and towards the stunned unicorns and pegaus ponies that had been silently watching.

“Is this what you came to see?! Is this what you want?! You want to see earth-pony blood spilled in revenge?!” She screamed at them, wild-eyed and on the edge of hysteria. Sunny ran over to try to calm the situation.

“No, please! We don’t know if it was one of them or somepony else who was watching from close by. This is not how we should be treating each other; as enimies!” She embraced the mare, trying to calm her.

“It’s Princess Sunny Starscout! It’s her!” One female voice whispered harshly to the other unicorns and pegasus ponies, watching as the drama unfolded. The siren drew closer; the green and blue lights of the ambulance could be seen in the reflections of the shop windows further down the street as it approached.

Sunny was utterly horrified by what she had witnessed, recognizing all of the earth-ponies targeted as her fellow townsfolk. She didn’t recognize any of the unicorns or pegasus ponies who stood close by, all of them dumbstruck by her presence, never seeing an alicorn princess in the flesh before.

Sunny could feel the anger in her rising but kept it under control, the seriousness of the situation taking precedence over what she wanted to say to them. The ambulance came roaring up the street, pulling up right next to the scene. Two paramedics, dressed in their white shirts with first aid kits strapped to their flanks, jumped from their seats and into action as a third pony remained hitched to the ambulance, ready to transport.

“We’ll take it from here, Sherriff.” A blonde stallion with a long brown mane and tail whipped out a proper head bandage to use and deftly swapped it for the makeshift one Hitch had used. The second paramedic, a Bay stallion with a short black mane and cropped tail, ran back to the ambulance to retrieve the stretcher. In seconds flat he had it rolled up next to his partner and then, together, carefully lifting the victim onto the padded surface and secured him with straps.

“Ma’am, you’d best come with us to the hospital’s emergency room.” The blonde stallion paramedic politely addressed the mare Sunny was comforting.

“Go with them; everything’s going to be alright. We’ll find out who did this.” Sunny assured the weeping mare, walking her back to the rear of the ambulance with the two EMS workers and helping her into the back so as to stay next to her husband for the ride. One of the workers stayed with the victim and his wife in the rear while the other jumped back into the front seat of the ambulance.

“Let’s roll!” He ordered and the wagon made a sweeping U-turn in the street and charged off back to the hospital, siren blaring and lights blazing away.

Sunny and Hitch’s attention now turned to the group of unicorns and pegasus ponies who’d been the instigators of this awful spectacle. Sunny walked right up to them, her gaze holding them in place as her translucent golden wings spread out from her sides and her golden horn emitting a soft glow of yellow light. She let them have a piece of her mind.

“Nine days! Nine days! That’s all it’s been since the return of magic to Equestria after an incalculable number of moons since its disappearance! And in that time, all you have to show for it is anger and hatred for the earth-ponies in some twisted sense of justified retribution?! We were wrong,” Sunny then turned to face her fellow earth-ponies who’d been the target of the animosity, “many of us who went along with Sprout Cloverleaf’s mad scheme said nothing and did nothing to stop him. We have no pony to blame but ourselves for the ire that has been sown between the three pony races!”

Sunny then turned to face the unicorns and pegasus ponies once more. “But earth-ponies are not solely to blame for this. All this long simmering hate and distrust from all the pony races have contributed to this tension and fear between us. It’s only when we work together, through the magic of friendship, will we be able to bring our world back to a place it was before; when all ponykind worked in harmony. If we give into hate, if we let the past continue to rule the present, then the future is surely lost for all of us.”

Sunny witnessed the looks of regret on the faces of the unicorns and pegasus ponies when listening her message, realizing the error in their judgments of earth-ponies. It was a sobering moment for them all. Hitch then took over the situation.

“I want every pony here to know that they are officially under arrest; every pony here is going down to the police station to be processed! I’m going to get to the bottom of who threw that bottle and injured that innocent stallion! I can assure the guilty party here that they will be processed to the fullest extent of the law! Get moving!” Hitch pointed the way for them, back down Main Street towards his office. This was a side of Hitch she did not like to see; riled up and barking angry orders at the citizenry, ponies he most likely knew by name.

No pony spoke up in defiance of the command or argued their innocence in the street. The earth-ponies who’d been at the center of the assault went too, wanting to comply and give their accounts of what they witnessed. Overall, it was a sad culmination of a sad court trial that neither Hitch nor Sunny ever wanted to relive.

“It didn’t have to be like this, Hitch. It… it just didn’t!” Sunny leaned in close to him, resting her head against his neck, needing some kind of comfort at the outcome of the past several days of crazy changes to their lives. It all just felt like too much to take on all at once.

Hitch put a foreleg around her withers, in need of the support too and sighed heavily. “I know, Sunny. Let’s only hope that it only gets better from here on out.”

A news reporter eagerly came up to her and Hitch, delight beaming in his eyes as he spoke to them. “Thank you, Princess Sunny. That was the most inspiring speech about ‘friendship magic’ I’d heard in…. well, ever! And best of all, we got it live! It was broadcast on all the major news outlets!”

Sunny’s mouth fell open, forgetting there’d been a news camera transmitting the whole time. She felt her knees buckle a little; realizing that thousands of ponies had witnessed her little speech. Hitch helped keep her on her hooves, holding her up some.

“Oh-h-h-h-h!” Sunny groaned, putting a forehoof to her head. She had unconsciously slipped into that ‘alicorn princess’ mode of speaking. And with the appearance of her wings and horn as she spoke, it probably just reinforced her place as the new Princess of Friendship among all ponykind, in spite of her desire to return to her old life of running a fruit smoothie stand on the boardwalk. But it seemed that the Wheel of Fate was moving her in another direction, weather she wanted it or not.

Author's Note

Well, here it is; the beginning of what I'm sensing to be a very bumpy ride for Sprout. I do hope he get's his life together because no pony is going to do it for him from now on. Please leave a comment on this story in the comment section. I would love to hear what you think of this beginning.

Chapter 2: Going Separate Ways

The first raindrops began to fall, just as the weather-pony had predicted earlier today on the news, the gray clouds that had been gathering for the latter half of the afternoon gave them warning of the coming end of their outside activities.

They had been playing ‘king of the mountain’ around the big dirt pile in Sprout Cloverleaf’s back yard; a new in-ground pool was being dug and this dirt mound was a ready-made ‘mountain’ to use. The four boys; Sprout, Hitch, Pete Prancestep and Val Vanderhoof attacked the mound of dirt with loud battle cries, clamoring up the steep dirt to get to the top.

Hitch got to the top first but was knocked off by Pete, who intern was rolled off by Sprout who was then shoved off the top by Val. They try over and over again to get to the top, the light rain becoming steadier and causing the dirt to become muddy. It is great fun for them, laughing and carrying on as they knock each-other from off the top of the dirt mound. It looked like Val Vanderhoof might have the best of them but Sprout gave one last desperate charge up the dirt mound.

He gave Val and solid push off the top, causing his friend to go sliding down the side in the dirt mound to the bottom and unable to gain a footing in the wet dirt. Pete and Hitch made valiant attempts to scale the mound one last time but the rain was making it impossible by turning the dirt into a muddy quagmire. As hard as they struggled to climb up the increasingly muddy dirt mound, they fell over repeatedly, covering them in mud as they slid back down.

Sprout stood atop the dirt mound, the rain now coming more steadily down as he realized that he was not going to get pushed off, his friends could not climb up to reach him. Triumphantly, Sprout reared up on his hind legs and thrust his forelegs high above his head in victory.

“I made it, Ma! I’m on top of the world!” He shouted out as another crack of lightning and boom of thunder rumbled from the sky above them all. It was just then that Phyllis Cloverleaf came to the back porch door to call her son and his friends in.

“Boys, the pizzas are here! Suppertime!” Her voice carried over the noise of the thunder.

“Alright! Pizza! C’mon guys; last pony inside is a rotten egg!” Sprout hooted as he came charging down the dirt mound and led his friends to the basement door of his family’s house. This was going to be the best birthday sleep over night; hot pizza, video games and surely a killer pillow fight between them all later tonight were in store for them, the bonds of friendship growing. Just as they were about to step inside, Sprout’s mom opened the door to stop them.

“Hold it! Hold it right there, you four! You are not coming in this house filthy dirty like that. You are going to rinse that dirt off with the garden hose first. I’ll get some towels for you boys.” Phyllis gave them that Mom look; the one all mother’s use when getting some rowdy-fun colts in line; stern but loving.

“Yes Mrs. Cloverleaf.” Hitch, Val and Pete responded in unison, half-expecting it, anyway. Sprout was already over at the garden hose reel hanging on the concrete wall, opening the spigot for them.

“Aw, mom, we’re not that dirty.” Sprout whine a little, embarrassed by his mom’s sudden interruption in their good time.

“Huh, try saying that to my dining room rug with hooves dirty like that!” Phyllis turned from the doorway and was only five or six steps away when she heard them at it again; now using the garden hose to spry at each other in some kind of fracas over who has the nozzle end. She rolled her eyes a little at boys’ incorrigible behavior, collecting some large beach towels from a nearby closet.

“We’re done!” She heard her son yelling to her, done with their tomfoolery and now hosed off clean. Phyllis returned with the fluffy towels for them to dry off, only to see the four of them standing there grinning dumbly and dripping wet from head to hoof, their manes and tails completely soaked.

“I said to clean yourselves off, not take a shower!” She gave a slightly exasperated sigh. “You boys get inside and I’ll get some more towels for you.” She opened the door and Pete and Val stepped in first.

“This is going to be great tonight, Hitch. I’m glad you could come.” Sprout was happy to have all his invites here for his eleventh birthday, especially Hitch, whom he looked up to like a big brother.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything, Sprout. That’s what best colt-buddies are for.” Hitch was glad to spend the Friday night over his schoolmate friend’s house for a party. He just hoped he liked the new video game he got for him. It wasn’t one of the ‘shoot’em up’ type games that Sprout was into but was neat RPG-type one that got good reviews in a gaming magazine he’d read.

Sprout threw a foreleg around Hitch’s neck, throwing another foreleg up high over his head, yelling out his happiness.

“Best colt-buddies forever-r-r-r!”

Hitch laughed along with his good friend, sharing in the making of memories to last a lifetime.

Just then, the moment was interrupted by an unexpected visitor in the form a small blue and white feathered woodpecker, landed on the railing of the porch steps that began pecking loudly and incessantly at the railing. The loud pecking sound it made seem like it was so much closer to Hitch’s ear. Almost as if it was right next to him, but yet that bird was a good twenty feet away.

What the-? What’s a woodpecker doing out here? I don’t remember seeing…

Hitch looked at Sprout again, watching as his red earth-pony friend’s face began to morph and meld into an image of disassociated swirling colors and blurriness.

What’s happening?!

Everything around him seemed to swirl into a vortex of colors until going dark, but still that loud tapping persisted in his ears. Then he understood what was happening.

Wait, I’m dreaming!

From the depths of his sleep the persistent sound drew him up to consciousness, breaking though the barrier of sleep to greet a new dawn. His eyes crack open, thin slivers of light enter his pupils from the bright sun beaming through the nearby window, alerting his brain that it was time to get up. The fuzziness within his mind started to recede, becoming aware of his surroundings now and slowing rising up from his bed. Hitch gave a big yawn and stretch, flexing his forelegs high up over his head. He rubbed his eyes with the back of a foreleg, getting the ‘sleeping sand’ out of them. He could remember what he had just been dreaming about; the party for Sprout’s eleventh birthday and how much fun the four of them had way back when in those innocent times of their youth.

He smiled at first, recalling the fun time but a bit of sadness touched his heart, remembering what Sprout had said to him that day. Hitch’s voice quivered a little when repeating it to himself.

“Best colt-buddies forever.”

With a sigh, he pushed back his comforter, slipping out of his bed and giving his forelegs a big stretch up over his head and yawning once more. He took a quick look out the window just above his bed. His sudden appearance in the window frightened off the small woodpecker who had been drilling away on his windowsill.

So that’s what I was hearing. He made his way over to the bathroom to relieve himself and splash some cold water on his muzzle to help bring his brain fully awake. He headed for his small kitchen for breakfast, stopping by the backdoor window to look out and check on his bird feeders this morning. Sure enough, the feeders were empty, and he would have to refill them again.

With the coffee pot warming up on the stove and his waffles toasting away in the toaster, he headed outside to do his morning duty. The moment he stepped out from the sliding glass door and onto the tiny deck off his kitchen that faced the backyard, the chirping and tweeting coming from the birds waiting in the nearby trees intensified. He stepped out into the yard space, collecting his containers of feed out of a nearby locked cupboard.

Hitch unhooked the control line, lowering the three feeders to chest-height on his ingeniously designed counterbalanced line system he had strung up between two trees, making it easy for him to refill them.

His feathered friends began to swoop in, whizzing right past his head as and vocalizing their delight at seeing Hitch once again. A small chuckle escaped him, delighted to be so close to them and pleased to have won some over as a friend. Just as he was about to pour in the mixed seed into one of the feeders, one small brown and white bird came to land right on his hoof, looking right at him, its head cocked slightly.

‘Tweet-twa-tweetily tweet?’ The small bird chirped, as if asking Hitch a question and he smiled back at his feathery visitor.

“Well I’m glad to see you too.” Hitch had no idea what it could be asking but wished he did. Two other birds came down to land on one of the feeders, also looking at Hitch and chirped excitedly, alerting others nearby that breakfast was being served. Hitch saw more guests appear in the tree limbs around his backyard area, waiting.

With the feeders now full, he added the weights to the line to raise the feeders high up overhead. Once more, Hitch chuckled to himself at how many birds came darting in to grab a peanut piece or some seed and then fly off to the safety of the tree branches. Back inside his home, Hitch could watch from the small kitchen table he was sitting and eating at to observe the coming and going of birds to his feeders.

With just his coffee left to sip on from his morning meal, he slowly slipped out the sliding glass back door to stand quietly on his small porch and watch the colorful birds come to feed. Before he had to get to the station house, Hitch could take a few minutes out of this morning from the very hectic past few weeks to indulge in some early morning bird watching.

He noticed up high in one branch of a nearby tree was a large bird with vibrant red feathers and long tail plumage that swayed slightly in the early morning breeze that was coming in off the bay.

“Ah, red bird, good morning.” Hitch quietly saluted his returning mysterious visitor, raising his coffee mug to it. The bird shifted its body a little, still not taking notice or interest in the food Hitch had put out. He noted it was the third morning in a row he’d seen this unusual bird.

He cocked an eyebrow at his peculiar visitor, unable to figure out what kind of bird it was and why was his ‘bird friendly’ backyard unappealing to it. The feeders were full, and the birdbath was clean and filled with fresh water. What else was missing?

“Not impressed with my offerings, eh?” He joked with a slight smirk, imagining the bird could hear him from all the way up there. The red plumed bird shifted slightly on its perch, as if to keep a better grip in the early morning’s easterly breeze off the ocean.

“I’ll convince you yet to come down for a visit.” Hitch was not a pony to give up so easily, especially when it came to his little bird sanctuary. This was his favorite time of the day; spending a quiet morning watching as the birds come in to feed on his feeders, listening to the various caws, squawks, and chirps and cries each type made. He loved discovering which bird made what sound and then being able to pick them out by their calls, even if he could not see them through the cover of green tree foliage.

Was it his imagination, or did it seem like this bird was holding its beak up in the air in some sort of display of indifference or superiority to his desire for contact, as if to say to Hitch, ‘Fat chance of that happening, buster!’

A shadow past over Hitch as he stood there looking up at the red bird in the tree, now causing him to look away. Circling above him was the culprit, now waving at him to get his attention.

“Morning, Sherriff Hitch.” Zipp Storm came swooping down to land right next to him, all smiles and bearing a delivery. The earth-pony was glad to see her again.

“Morning, Zipp, nice to see you here again. What brings you back to Maretime Bay so soon? I’d thought you and Pipp would still be trying to smooth things over with the ponies of Zephyr Heights.” This was a nice surprise for Hitch, getting a chance to talk with Zipp alone and out of the eyes of the public.

Zipp was briefly embarrassed by him for pointing that uncomfortable fact out. “Yeah, well….,” she hemmed and hawed a little, rubbing the back of her head with a forehoof, “we’ve been busy the past couple of weeks trying to explain ourselves on a whole bunch of streaming videos and interviews we’ve had to do. It’s been tough and I needed to escape the attention for a little while. So I volunteered to act as a courier today.” She began to rifle through her carry-bag to fetch what she was supposed to deliver to him.

“Where’s Pipp? She didn’t join you?” Hitch saw Zipp procure a manila folder from her bag and then present it to him.

“She’s doing interviews for positions in her new salon she opening here in Maretime Bay; her agent just closed on a storefront the day before.” She felt a pang of nerves hit her as Hitch opened the folder and took out the cover letter to read.

“What’s this?” He was impressed by the official gold-foil embossed seal and letterhead adorning the top of the page, indicating to him that this was from Queen Haven herself.

Hitch began reading aloud softly. “Greetings, Queen Haven of Zephyr Heights would like to extend her gratitude to Sherriff Hitch Trailblazer…” He quickly read ahead of the letter, mumbling though the formalities, seeing how long it was and wanted to get to the crux of the letter’s contents.

His eyes widened at one reaching the important part. “…as a gesture of good will and friendship between the pony races, her Highness would like to offer Maretime Bay’s police force candidates for the position of… deputy?” He looked up at Zipp, not sure by the intentions of this offer.

“My mom, along with the head of Ministry of Justice, thought it might be a good idea to have some pegasus ponies from Zephyr Heights apply for the position, if it’s okay with you.” She bit her lower lip briefly before continuing. “That is, unless you have some pony else in mind for the position already.” Zipp didn’t want to seem like she or her mom were stepping over any boundaries Hitch might be holding in reserve. Everything still seemed so up-in-the-air after these few weeks that no pony was sure how anyone would react after everything Equestria had been through.

“Oh, no, it’s not an issue with me. I just never suspected any pony from Zephyr Heights had an interest in law enforcement in an earth-pony town.” This was a new and interesting proposition for Hitch as sheriff, curious would it would be like to have a pegasus pony for a deputy. He pulled out the files from the folder, briefly looking over the applicants.

“Cloudjumper.” He recited the first name, scanning the photo and scanning the brief cover letter and a small rundown of his work experience. Two more files with two more stallions passed his eyes, each pony mugging for their respected cover shots with looks of sublime confidence.
“Wildwind and Powerglide.” He didn’t know who they were but would read up on their files later. The last file caught his attention.

“Zephyrina Storm?” Hitch wasn’t sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him but when he looked up at his guest; she had a small amount of pink appearing on her muzzle and wore something of a sheepish look.

“I thought we worked pretty well together in the recent past and, well, since I’ve been clerking for one of the judges in the Ministry of Justice, I thought this might be a good opportunity for me to learn more about earth-pony law enforcement while doing actual field work.”

Hitch gave her a quick smile, pleased to see she was interested in working together again. “I’ll move it to the top of the pile of applicants.” A quick thought popped into his head, now that she was here.

“Hey, Zipp, quick question. When you were flying right above the treetops just now, did you get a close look at that red bird with the long tailfeathers sitting high up in this tree?” He pointed up to the treetop where he’d seen the red bird perch itself in the same spot for the past three mornings. She looked up to where he indicated.

“What red bird?”

Hitch turned his head to look up at the treetop to where he expected to see the bird in question. “It’s right-” He stopped, spotting the tree limb was now vacant of its feathery occupant. “It was right there a second ago.” He looked back at Zipp, a bit of egg on his face. She only shrugged.

“Sorry, I didn’t see any red bird while I was up there.”

“Huh. That’s funny, for the past three mornings the same red bird has come to sit on that high tree branch. At least, I think it’s the same bird.” Hitch was sure his visitor would’ve been there. He’d only looked away for a moment to speak with Zipp.

“Anyway, I’ve got to be here today to greet the first pegasus family that’s moving to Maretime Bay and we’re supposed to meet them at the train station.” Zipp pointed to the letter again and had Hitch read more.

The sheriff returned his attention to the letter, finding what she said to be correct; a pegasus pony family was moving to Maretime Bay and Queen Haven had requested Hitch and Sunny to act as an impromptu welcoming party.

“Sunny’s staying with her friend Latte Cream at her apartment in town until the construction company can get more of the new lighthouse built for Sunny to return to. We can stop by where she’s staying and pick her up on the way to my office.”

“That’ll work. Hopefully Pipp can join us after her interviewing this morning. I know my mom would be glad she did.” Zipp hated to be the only princess present when acting as the welcoming committee. She never had the right words to convey that made a good impression. That was Pipp’s specialty. She’s so much more used to being in the public spotlight.

“You want to come inside for a second? I want to brush my teeth before we head out.” Hitch was already opening up the sliding glass door on the porch to let her in, aware she’d never been here before.

“Sure.” Zipp followed after Hitch, stepping inside his abode for the first time and glancing about. He shut the door behind her.

Hitch was heading for the bathroom when he stopped, turning his head back to her. “Help yourself to some coffee on the stove; I’ll just be a minute.” He went off to the bathroom, getting ready for his busy day.

“Thanks, I will.” Zipp appreciated the quick pick-me-up of` some fresh coffee and pulled out a mug from an above-counter cabinet and poured herself some. She could hear the water running in the bathroom sink and could see Hitch’s flanks from the open bathroom door as he brushed his teeth.

Zipp looked around the kitchen, curious to learn something new about Hitch. Like most girls, she suspected what a stallion like Hitch’s place might look like. She half expected to see empty pizza boxes, empty beer bottles, old fast-food wrappers and paper bags strewn around everywhere, dirty clothes on the furniture and the floor along with a sink full of dirty dishes.

But, to her surprise, she found none of that. The kitchen was clean and free of mess, the sink clear of any dirty dishes.

Sniff! Sniff! Zipp could smell the lemon-scented cleaner used to keep the kitchen tidy and she nodded approvingly.

Hmmm, clean kitchen floor, no bad smells, no dirty laundry lying all over the place; this pony knows how to keep his home in order. Zipp thought to herself while looking about the living space.

She found something on his coffee table that was interesting. One was a book on amateur bird-watching and the other was an open folder containing a dozen or so professionally done portraits of Hitch dressed in various outfits, posing and mugging for the camera. She quickly looked through a few of them, finding herself ogling one in particular that accentuated Hitch’s strong stallion physique.

She took a few more sips of her coffee, admiring the photo collection of her friend and wondered how many times he’d done this before. Did he have some kind of ‘Hitch Trailblazer Fan Club’ here in Maretime Bay?

Hitch rinsed his mouth of toothpaste and left the bathroom to join Zipp in his living room, seeing her taking interest in something on his coffee table. When he stepped closer to see what it was, he felt a pang of embarrassment.

“Oh, you’re looking at those?” He said with a touch of dread, as if caught with something he shouldn’t have in his possession. Zipp chuckled a little from his discomfort, seeing him squirming some.

“What’s up with these? You switching careers from law enforcement to fashion modeling or something?” she gently poked fun, smirking.

“Yeah, well…” He momentarily trailed off; now it was his turn to feel embarrassed at having to explain himself. “They’re for next year’s Maretime Bay charity calendar and I was supposed to select the ones to use. But I think I might forgo doing it anymore.”

Zipp turned away from the pictures to face him, seeing some self-consciousness appear on his muzzle. “Really? How come?”

“Well, since we’ve helped Sunny bring back magic to Equestria and now the pony races are coming together,” he paused to look down to paw through a few of the pictures, selecting two or three that were what he thought his best and favorites, “and now some pegasus pony families are going to move here, maybe this isn’t the image I should project. What would those ponies from Zephyr Heights think?”

She looked down at the three photos he’d pulled out, one of them being the one she’d found her eyes repeatedly falling on in admiration. She could see by his expressions in the pictures he enjoyed taking them and clearly wasn’t camera shy. He enjoyed dancing and being in the spotlight, much like Pipp, so why the self doubt all of a sudden?

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure no pony would think anything less of their town’s sheriff if he wanted to take some attractive pictures for a calendar, especially if it was for charity.” Zipp thought it cute of him to do something that most guys would be far and away too self-conscious or unnerved to try. Still, he looked at the pictures more, second-guessing himself.

“Maybe; I’ll see in a few days if I feel like going forward with it. This was the first week here in town where we weren’t inundated with that media circus of news reporters and camera crews.”

Zipp gave him a small pat on his back with a wing, assuring him. “Don’t worry, Hitch. Things are settling down and pretty soon everything will go back to normal. You’ll see.” Zipp could still seeing doubt in his eyes.

“Normal; I don’t know what that supposed to mean anymore.” He said with a small sigh, momentarily looking away from the pictures on the table.

She gave him a friendly bump of her withers against his body, getting his attention. “Join the club, Hitch. We’re both in unexplored territory.” Once more, she gave him a little crooked smile, letting him know she got his meaning. “C’mon Sherriff, it’s time to go.” She gulped down the last of the coffee and made sure to put the mug in his kitchen sink and not leave it on a table, being polite.

Hitch slipped the hoop of his harness under his right foreleg and over his head, his bronze badge hanging perfectly off his left flank, buffed to a high shine from its proud law pony. He held open the front door of his condo for her, waiting.

Just as she was about to step outside, a picture hanging right by the door on the wall caught her eye. She stopped suddenly to look more. “Hey, what’s this?” She wasn’t sure at first.

“Oh, that,” Hitch brightened, getting to share something fun about himself, “it’s a drawing I did in art class when I was in secondary school. We could only use a piece of charcoal on the canvas-board to draw with. Every pony in the class had to select their subject to draw by picking it out of a fishbowl.”

Zipp could see what it was. “It’s a bird; a bird…rising up?” She squinted her eyes, studying the image closer.

“That’s what my teacher said too but I don’t think it looks like it. I really wasn’t sure how to draw it so I did this kind of quick, and I was sort-of ‘meh’ about how it came out. But my teacher loved it. She made me not change a thing or try to touch it up even though I wanted to. She gave me an ‘A’ grade and it was the only high mark I got in art class that year. But you should’ve seen the masterpieces Sunny whipped up in class. She almost always got A’s.” Hitch played down his success, comparing his meager artistic attempt with Sunny’s naturally creativeness. It was just something from his colt-hood to remind him of how a ‘little success’ can surprise him when he wasn’t over-thinking.

“An ‘A’? Cool! I wasn’t the artistic one in school either. Pipp could come up with all sorts of artsy stuff on the fly; I struggled for even one good idea. I think it looks great and you should be proud of how it came out.” Zipp gave him a little ego boost and she was rewarded with one of his signature sly smiles.

“Thanks.”

Just then, they heard a train’s whistle blowing in the distance, alerting the two of them of the approaching duty they were to both be a part of today.

“We should get down to the station; the family we’re scheduled to meet is due in on the first train this morning.” Zipp moved out the doorway and let Hitch lock up behind them. He walked beside her down the street and heading towards the train station.

“I hope there are only one or two reporters attending this little function.” Hitch was already suspecting the worst. He was missing the quietness of Maretime Bay before they’d set the world all topsy-turvy like they had.

Zipp only shrugged a little and gave a small laugh. “You know my mom; she’s probably sending a bunch of news reporters to cover this and try to squeeze some good press out of it too.”

“Grea-a-a-t.” Hitch groaned while rolling his eyes in exhaustion. Zipp had an easy solution for her duty-weary friend. He hasn’t had a single day off from being on duty as sheriff for three weeks.

“You know, after this little function if you’d like to get some extra rest, I could cover for you and do your normal patrol route around Maretime Bay. Maybe help this new family settle in and such?” She was eager to help, to demonstrate her usefulness to him.

“I could just stay in the office and catch up on some paperwork, along with review the files you brought. It would be great to not have to be on hoof-patrol all day again.” Hitch thought through Zipp’s offer, figuring out how he could get more of his job done rather than resting like Zipp though he should. But she settled for his take on the offer.

“Sounds like we have a plan now, sheriff.” From out of the carry-bag slung across her body, Zipp produced a bronze badge of her own, ‘acquired’ from a friend who was member of Zephyr Heights Patrol Force and slung the leather holstered symbol of law enforcement around her neck on its silver chain. It surprised Hitch to see her flashing around an obviously real police pony’s badge. He opened his mouth, about to ask the obvious follow up question to seeing her brandishing it, but then stopped himself.

“You know, I’m not going to even ask where you got that from.” Hitch would not bother with it, figuring that a princess like Zipp could get her hooves on ‘anything’ if she wanted. Zipp only laughed again, seeing how Hitch would rather have ‘plausible deniability’ on his side then knowing the truth.

=====*****=====

Click-clack! Click-clack! Clack-clack! The train wheels went along in rhythmic progression. Steady, unwavering and relentless. The train’s momentum hurtled Sprout Cloverleaf down this stretch of track to an unknown final destination that awaited him. He and three other stallions got on the train at the platform, but Sprout didn’t make eye contact with them, wanting to avoid any chance of recognition. All of them sat apart from one another in the car and had remained silent since departing, more than an hour ago.

Sprout kept staring down at the dirty floor in front of him from where he sat. His breath came in quick inhales and exhales with a long drawn out pause in-between as if he were still in shock and reeling from the events happening around him. It felt so surreal to him, like an unfolding nightmare he could not shut his eyes to.

He could tell the train was heading south, far away from Maretime Bay but still along the coast, never getting out of sight of the shoreline. Sprout had never traveled further than twenty miles from his hometown in all his life, patrolling only length and breadth of Appaloosa County to which he was a deputy in serving. He never crossed over the boarders into the neighboring counties in the land of Unicornia to the east or those of Pegasopolis kingdom to the North. That was inviting trouble if he did.

He didn’t notice one of the other stallions in the car was sliding across the seats to move closer to him, apparently curious about him. The stranger tried to get his attention.

“Psst! Psst! Hey! Hey, kid, ya’ll alright over here?”

Sprout glanced up to see the pony just across the aisle looking right at him. The gray stallion with white mane and tail was smiling pleasantly enough, trying to elicit a response from Sprout. He spoke in that peculiar dialect of Ponish; like he’d heard from other earth-ponies who hailed from one of the three major counties out west of Appaloosa County, on the coast.

Sprout guessed by Splinter Wood’s appearance that he was only a few years older than himself; maybe closer to Hitch’s age. He caught sight of Splinter Wood’s cutie mark; that of a saw cutting through a plank of broken wood, surmising he worked in the construction industry.

Sprout kept his mouth shut, only nodding his head a little to the question as he continued to stare down at the floor, his breath still coming is short-quick gasps.

“First time in trouble with Johnny Law?” He asked. Again, Sprout only nodded.

“Don’t sweat it, kid. It’s not as bad as them lawyers try to scare ya’ with. This is my third time serving, ya’ know.” He almost sounded like he was bragging about it, comfortable with his situation.

The two other stallions in the car did not move over to speak with them. One of them sat with their eyes closed, apparently nodding off while the other was staring out the closest window at the landscape passing by, lost in their thoughts.

“What’s your name, kid?” The stranger continued his query.

“Sp…Sprout Cloverleaf.” Sprout stammered slightly, speaking his name very quietly. He did try took look up and make eye contact, not wanting to seem rude or impolite.

“Splinter Wood; a pleasure.” He extended friendly forehoof and Sprout guardedly extended a forehoof to return to shake. Splinter Wood gave a small chuckle at Sprout’s nervousness.

“Do you know where we’re headed (cough!)?” Sprout’s mouth was so dry that his words came out like a raspy smoker’s whisper; like he had no voice. He tried to clear his throat, trying not to look too nervous.

“No plumb idea. I’ve never been out of Pommel County in my life; out west of the Canterlot River from here. Where ya’ from, Sprout?”

“Appaloosa County.”

“Never been there, sounds nice enough.” Splinter Wood shrugged when hearing where Sprout hailed from, not really sure where that was. He didn’t push Sprout for too much information about him, sensing the red pony was on edge and looking a bit pale, unnerved by this trip and unsure what was to come next.

Sprout, for his part, didn’t go into much detail when answering Splinter’s questions, fearing he’d reveal something about himself that he might regret. This small talk went on for perhaps another twenty minutes until they could feel and hear the train was now slowing down, coming into their destination at last. The two other stallions in the car, too, realized what was happening and collected themselves for what was coming.

“We’ll catch up later.” Splinter Wood returned to his seat, waiting like the others for whatever officer was to receive them, and take them off the train.

The car came to its shuddering stop at the platform of the depot. Through his window, Sprout spotted a yellow stallion stepping towards the car door. There was that distinct metallic sound of a key sliding into the car’s locked door.

Ca-click! Click! Scre-e-e-e-ek!

The lock unlatched and the heavy metal car door slid back on its dry tracks, the lack of lubricant made a horrible loud metallic scraping sound that caused all who heard it to grit their teeth in reaction. In stepped the yellow stallion that opened the door, turning and walking right to where Sprout and the three others sat.

“On your hooves, the four of ya’!” He ordered, his green eyes glaring right at them.

Sprout didn’t hesitate when given the order, getting to his hooves quickly and stepped out into the isle. Splinter Wood and the other two stallions did likewise, not wanting to keep the guard pony waiting.

“Outside, let’s go!” The yellow stallion ordered and the four of them filed out of the car and onto the station platform. Two things caught Sprout’s attention the moment he stepped out of the transport car.

Straight away, he spotted three more guards waiting close by, each was armed with ‘flick sticks’; spring-loaded batons strapped to a foreleg of an officer. A pony swung out his or her foreleg with which it’s strapped to, and the baton’s light-tension spring would allow the wooden shaft to extend out, striking the target.

Used for subduing riotous and unruly ponies by force, they were standard issue to all police departments across Equestria, including Maretime Bay. But Hitch had gone against standard practice and chose not to issue them. Available to use if necessary and kept in a locker for safety? Yes. A standard issue item for his department when they were on patrol? Not if Hitch could help it.

‘Presence is power, Sprout. If they see and respect the pony on patrol, then they’ll respect the badge and the law behind it. By winning over trust of the citizens, it almost guarantees you won’t need to use one.’

That was something Hitch had tried to teach him when becoming a deputy; learning how to build a rapport with the community so if they see something and suspect something, they would come to you and tell. That was how a bad element was kept from taking root in their little town and kept every pony safe.

But now seeing the guards now armed with them made the batons seem more intimidating and threatening. He knew from his police training how much it hurts to be struck with one and had no intention of reliving the experience.

The second thing that hit Sprout like a brick in the muzzle was the sheer intensity of heat and humidity from what he was accustomed to back in Maretime Bay. The sun was merciless with its intensity, causing him to blink a few times and catch his footing as he staggered slightly. It took him a couple of seconds to adjust.

“Let’s get movin’.” The yellow stallion led them to the far end of the platform and down the small flight of stairs to the ground. The three other guards followed right behind them, keeping Sprout and the others within striking distance of their batons.

Sprout and his fellow interns followed the lead officer down the dirt road away from the station, heading into the rural backwoods of this area and out of sight of any pony. They walked along in silence, no one speaking up to question of where they were going or why they had to walk to get there. The still heat and mugginess did nothing to make this trek any more bearable for any of them, unaccustomed to the environment.

There was a long, gradual bend in the road that brought them alongside a meandering stream as they headed further into the wooded countryside. Being so close to the water brought an onset of biting insects to feast upon them. Every pony walking along was swishing the pests away with their tails, annoyed with their persistency.

“Geez, what do these things eat when they can’t get ponies?!” Splinter Wood snarled aloud as he swatted away more of the pernicious bugs flying all around his head. This irksome interlude was short lived as they eventually came to meet up with the body of water that fed the stream they were walking along.

There was a vast wetland stretching out to their right so dense with vegetation that it was impossible to see beyond. This was a sight for Sprout to see for himself, never seeing cypress trees or a real swamp. He’d never been more than thirty or so miles from his hometown and this landscape was as unfamiliar and as alien as any he’d seen before.

They soon reached a fork in the road and bore onto the left fork, heading away from the wetland areas and stream and out of the range of the biting insects, for which they were all grateful to get away from.

Coming up into view, perhaps another two-hundred yards ahead Sprout spotted what appeared to be the beginnings of a fenced-in area and the roofs of some buildings just beginning to be seen.

Steadily closer they approached. Sprout could actually see what their final destination was after this brief two-mile walk as the entire compound came into view. Its appearance caused Sprout to wonder about this place and the idea of what he thought ‘going to jail’ was like.

The lead officer stopped ahead of them, pointing out to them where to stand.

“You stallions get lined up over here,” he pointed to a white spray-painted rectangle on the dirt ground. The spot was right in front of the porch of a small and tidy-looking white slat-board sided house with blue shutters and a white-picketed fence. Sprout saw a stallion kneeling behind the security fence who was watching with two hound dogs by his side. One of the dogs gave a couple of yelps and woofs at the four new arrivals, annoying the officer who’d lead them here.

“Kibble, you gonna keep them dogs quiet?” The lead officer groused, annoyed at the dog’s brief whining and yelping.

“Sorry, sir. They just caught a whiff of the newbie’s scents.” The brown stallion held the leashes of his hounds a bit tighter, maintaining control over the dogs. The two hounds settled down at his control.

The lead officer walked over to the porch-front where a tan stallion wearing a smart-looking white shirt and a fedora hat stepped outside from the house and onto the porch, looking over the new arrivals. The lead officer handed this pony a manilla folder with official paperwork.

“What have we got here today, Mr. Buttercup?” He took the folder from officer Buttercup and removed its contents held within.

Mr. Buttercup sneered at the foursome standing off to his right. “Looks like four of the sorriest sacks of pony shit I’ve ever seen, Warden!” He slowly walked over to give each one a look-over, casing each one up and down to see if there was a troublemaker in their midst.

“Maybe, but let’s have a look here at the files anyhow.” The warden licked his dry lips while looking over the first file, speaking up to find out which one the four in front of him was the one.

“Uh, Quickstep, case two-six-zero; convicted of mareslaughter and sentenced to two years.”

“It was an accident, mister!” The pale gray stallion softly pleaded, repeating his case once more. “My harness broke and the cart rolled down-”

“You call the warden, Warden. You hear?” Mr. Buttercup poked his left forehoof firmly in Quickstep’s chest, giving him a warning look before moving on down the line of newbies. Quickstep gulped down the lump in his throat, fearing this pony’s ire.

“Stargazer, case two-eight-nine; convicted of trespassing and resisting arrest; sentenced to one year.” The Warden continued on with the next file and to the third pony standing in front of him.

The light blue pony with the styled gray mane spoke up, responding with a snarky tone in his voice. “I was in the bathroom when they locked up the planetarium and I couldn’t get out, the stupid morons!”

Mr. Buttercup did not like this pony’s attitude and let know it be known, striking Stargazer hard in the hind legs with his baton and causing Stargazer to crumble to his knees.

“Shut that damn smart mouth of yours, fella! You call the warden, Warden, you got that?!”

The warning came through loud and clear as Stargazer corrected himself. “Yes, Mr. Buttercup.”

“And you call all the rest of us here Sir, got it?!” He wasn’t done with him just yet, moving in close to Stargazer’s left ear to speak and make his point clear.

“Yes, Sir.” Stargazer was not going to make this mistake again, looking down at the ground in submission when answering.

But the Warden didn’t seem too concerned about this particular new arrival’s attitude. They all got in line with the program soon enough. “This stallion’s goin’ to make us proud of him, Mr. Buttercup?” He continued on with the next file.

“Uh, Splinter Wood?”

“Right here, Warden.” Splinter raised a forehoof to identify himself to the warden.

“Case number three-oh-two; convicted of breakin’ an’ enterin’ and assault; sentenced to five years,” Something else caught the warden’s eye, something useful to his operations here, “and a former member of the Carpenters Union, to boot.”

Splinter Wood took a quick look around, seeing two or three other inmates maintaining the buildings and tending to the grounds. He played his hand as best he thought. “I figure that might come in real handy ‘round here, Warden, seeing that you’re sprucin’ up the place an’ all.”

The warden gave a sideway head nod in some kind of vague agreement while finishing his reading over of his file. “Maybe,” he got to the last file in the collection.

“Uh, Sprout Cloverleaf?”

Sprout raised a foreleg, speaking quietly. “Right here, Warden.”

“Case three-five-one; convicted of maliciously destroying private property and… vehicular assault. Uh, what was that?” The warden was briefly perplexed, unsure if he’d ever seen two more mismatched charges in one case against a pony. His curiosity got the better of him and had to know. Looking up, it struck the warden to see just how young this last pony was, guessing Sprout had to be in his early twenties at most.

Sprout hesitated a little before speaking up; unsure of what these ponies might think when he told them what he had done. “I… I modified a construction bulldozer and tried to tear down an ex-friend’s house in a fit of rage, Warden.”

The three other newbies all turned to look at Sprout, unsure of what they’d heard. It threw off both the warden and Mr. Buttercup as well, never hearing such a weird thing to do to land a pony in jail with.

The warden stood there listening, his imagination trying to conjure up an image of what Sprout’s peculiar crime might have looked like. As dumb as it seemed comical, it prompted the most obvious question from the warden.

“Huh. We ain’t never had one like you here before. What’d you think doin' that was gonna get ya’?”

Sprout didn’t answer immediately, looking away briefly to try to come up with the right words to explain his actions that day. He looked up at the warden again, shrugging ever so slightly.

“I guess you could say I just wasn’t thinking, Warden.”

The warden was still perplexed as he read aloud more of Sprout’s file, finding Sprout’s background was the exact opposite of every other convict under his watch at this facility.

“Well… it says here you previously served as a pony of the Law; graduating in the top five of your class from the academy, two commendations from your department for bravery in the line of duty, a commendation for life-saving acts during a natural disaster and a special blue-shield EMS pin award for community service.” He looked up again at Sprout, still perplexed by this collection of conflicting facts of crime and background.

“Son, this don’t make no sense.”

Sprout answered honestly, looking up at the pony wearing the fedora. “I was just dedicating my time to serving, Warden.”

The warden quite honestly didn’t know what to make of Sprout. Still, he’d been convicted and that was enough of an explanation for him. “Well ya'll got yourself some time to dedicate here; two years’ worth.” He pointed to Sprout’s file, showing the sentence handed down to him at his trial.

The warden addressed all four of them, giving them a quick introduction to what kind of ponies they’ll find while here. “Well, heck, that ain’t much time for your four but we got a couple of fellas here that’s servin' a stretch of twenty years each. We’ve got one fella servin' all his years here. We’ve got all kinds of ponies servin' here, and ya’ll gonna fit in just fine with them. But in case you get struck with ‘pegasus in the blood’ and try to fly on outa’ here to take off for home, you’ll get yourself a bonus stayin’ time and a set o' leg chains to slow ya’ down just a little bit, as a safety precaution of course.”

Quickstep, Stargazer, Splinter and Sprout were a bit surprised by the rather blasé way the warden spoke about this place, watching him casually lean his right withers up against one of the white porch-roof supports while talking to them. The warden handed one of the sheets of paper from the files back to Mr. Buttercup; a list of the names of the new inmates and what time they had to serve.

“The rules around here are simple and you’ll learn them soon enough. Trust me when I say it’s all in your hooves. Now, I can be a good guy and we can get along just fine while you’re here, or I can be the meanest sombitch you’d ever met.”

The warden watched their reactions, seeing them become uncomfortable at the idea of what they could be subjected to while they were under his watch for misbehaving. None of them seemed particularly interested in finding out just what. He noticed the red earth-pony on the end, the youngest of the four, actually shrinking away slightly at the warning. He made it simple for them to understand the situation as he retreated to his waiting wicker chair to sit down on and the tall glass of lemonade to quench his thirst.

“It’s all in your hooves now.” He reiterated as he plopped himself down and looked over at these new arrivals, wondering how they were going to work out.

“Alright, let get movin’.” Mr. Buttercup pointed out the way, back down the little gravel hoof-path to the main gate of the compound, just to the right. Single file, they marched to the gate; a guard on the inside unlocked the two chain-link fence doors that was the only entry or exit out of the compound.

Sprout still had a hard time understanding quite what he was looking at, the expectation of what he was going to find and what was actually here were complete opposites of what he imagined.

This is… jail? He caught his brain asking himself this again, questioning if this was really where he was going to spend the next two years.

The buildings were all wood framed, single-story structures painted white with green shingled roofs; a living space for the incarcerated, a kitchen, guard’s quarters and four guard towers at each corner of the fencing that were barely eight feet from off the ground. The entire compound was surrounded by only a single row of eight-foot-tall chain-link fence without any barb wire. Sprout would have believed any earth-pony worth his salt could jump that fence with enough of a running start and make a break for it.

Mounted above the entryway to the compound hung a sign, reading: ‘Division of Corrections, Work Camp number Ten’.

“One at a time through, move it!” Mr. Buttercup ordered. Through the chain-link doors and straight to the barracks they went. They stood in line, waiting at the door to the barracks for the lead officer.

“Bringin’ them on in, gatekeeper!” Mr. Buttercup gave the door several hard bangs with a forehoof, calling out to someone on the inside of the barracks. A few seconds later, a guard pony appeared at another door adjacent to the main barrack’s entrance, bearing a key in one forehoof.

He proceeded to unlock the outside door and pull it open, swinging the door back on its squeaky hinges. Mr. Buttercup passed along paperwork to this guard but did not follow them in.

“Inside, move it!” Mr. Buttercup snarled at them, giving one of the new arrivals a warning look not to lag behind. The four newbies quickly stepped through the doorway and into a small holding hallway, boxing them in on both sides and above constructed of two-by- four wood frames and more chain-link fence. The door to the outside was still open with Mr. Buttercup watching. The whole space to stand in was tight, perhaps five-feet wide by ten-feet long in size. There was just enough room for them to just squeeze in.

The same guard pony that had unlocked the outside door now unlocked the second inner security door remotely that would let Sprout and the others to enter the inmate’s living space.

As they stepped inside, a pudgy middle-aged stallion dressed in a dirt-stained white collared shirt with his mane slicked-back and streaked with gray while puffing on a lit cigar, took the paperwork from the door guard they’d been given by Mr. Buttercup, quickly looking over the names of these new arrivals. He got down to business.

“Listen up and listen good! You are assigned a bunk in which to sleep in and you will only sleep in the bunk assigned to you. Any pony sleeping in a bunk not assigned to him spends a night in The Stall.”

He waved them on to follow him down the row of bunk-beds that lined each wall of the room. He pointed out an empty bunk and called out a name.

“Stargazer!”

The light blue pony moved to where he was instructed, finding on the thin mat that was to be his mattress to sleep on, a waiting pile of five clean blue work-shirts. Each shirt had the same number sewn on the front pocket sleeve that corresponded to the bunk he was assigned. He was number twenty-three.

“Splinter Wood!” The pony in charge moved down a few paces then stopped, pointing to an upper bunk to the tan stallion that was to be his. Splinter hopped up into the bunk, finding five similar blue work-shirts waiting for him. He was assigned number twenty.

“Quickstep!”

The gray stallion moved across the room to the opposing row of bunks to the lower bunk being pointed out to him, nervous to be close to this pony in charge who incessantly puffed away at his stogie, polluting the air with its burnt tobacco odor. Quickstep reached down to pick up the shirt up off the top of the pile; he was assigned number seventeen.

“Sprout Cloverleaf!”

The pony in charge walked down past two bunks before stopping again, pointing to an upper bunk, positioned directly below one of the light fixtures that hung from the wood rafters. This was to be Sprout’s bunk. Clamoring up, Sprout sat on the meager padding and picked up a shirt from off the pile to read what number he had been assigned. He was number eleven.

“You four get dressed in one of them shirts. Each one of them shirts got a laundry number on it. You will remember your number and always wear the shirts with your number on it. Any pony that don’t remember his number spends a night in The Stall.”

Sprout and the others did as ordered, dressing in one of the shirts and listening to what was being recited to them. Splinter and Sprout hopped back down off their bunks to stand with Stargazer and Quickstep again, buttoning up their shirts while they listened.

“These here are your servin’ bowels and ya’ keep them with ya’.”

Bonk! Ba-bonk! Bonk!

Four rough-looking, beaten up and very used-looking wood bowls were tossed onto a nearby table for them to use. “Any pony loses or breaks his servin’ bowl spends a night in The Stall.”

This middle-aged stallion continued on with their education, sounding almost like a pre-recorded message of the list of dos and don’ts, slowly pacing up and down in front of some of the bunks nearby. “There’s no horsin’ around or fightin’ in the building at any time. You got a grudge against another pony; you two settle it out in the yard on Saturday afternoons. Any pony horsin’ around or fightin’ in the building spends a night in The Stall.”

“First bell is at five minutes to eight; you will get in your bunk. Last bell is at eight, any pony not in his bunk at eight spends a night in The Stall. You get two bed sheets; every Saturday, you put the clean sheet on the top, the top sheet on the bottom and the bottom sheet you turn in to the laundry pony. Any pony turnin’ in the wrong bed sheet spends a night in The Stall. No pony will sit on their bunks without showering first from outside work detail. Any pony caught sittin’ on his bunk without showering first spends a night in The Stall. Any pony don’t bring back his empty pop bottle spends a night in The Stall. Any pony loud-talking spends a night in The Stall.”

He finished his speech with a small huff of exhaustion, now addressing them directly. “You got questions, you come to me. I’m Sugarfoot, the floor-walker. I’m responsible for maintaining order in here.” He looked right at Sprout, checking to see if this youngster understood what he was saying. “Know what happens to a pony that don’t help maintain order in here, boy?”

“Th… they spend a night in The Stall?” Sprout managed to get the words out, sounding rather timid and unsure of just what ‘the stall’ was but figured that was probably the answer.

Sugarfoot rolled the cigar around to the other side of his mouth, clamping it tightly in between his teeth. A tiny smile of satisfaction appeared on his lips. “You catch on real fast, junior. I can see you’re not going to be a hard case to deal with.”

As Sprout and the three others collected their bowls from off the table, Sugarfoot stood over by the chain-link fence door, watching as the score of inmates returned from work detail and were heading right for the barracks.

“Thirteen… fourteen… fifteen…” Each pony announced his number to the counting officer standing at the main gate of the compound, the counting officer marking off on a clipboard each inmate’s number as present. The inmates trotted up into the barracks, pass Mr. Buttercup and some greeting Sugarfoot as they entered, going right past them. Sprout noticed several of the inmates were wearing leg chains, the distinct metallic clinking of the links alerting him. One of the inmates, seeing Sprout and the three others standing in the barracks getting dressed, stopped to point out to each one as he counted.

“One… two… three… four,” he stopped another inmate on his way in, a tallish pony with a sandy-blonde mane and tail that was wearing glasses and was covered in dirt and grime. “See? I told ‘ya. There’s four of ‘em this go ‘round. You owe me a cold drink, High Stakes. I was right this time.”

The sandy-blonde pony named High Stakes looked around at the four new arrivals, disappointed for losing the bet. “I owe ya’, Augusta.”

More followed, passing by them without even so much as a look. But one pony stopped to ask them a question.

“Hey, any of you guys from Saddle Brook County?” He looked at the foursome, three shaking their heads.

Sprout pointed to himself. “I’m from Appaloosa County, east of you. Sorry.” He knew of the county asked of, remembering it from the map that hung inside the station house right above Hitch’s desk.

“Meh, forget it.” The brown and white pony waved it off with a forehoof and continued on to the showers, eager to clean up and get ready for mealtime.

The other inmates headed on for the showers, joking to themselves and going on about the newbies looking so clueless standing there. Sprout didn’t know what to make of this, just trying to deal with the fact he was here was enough for his brain. More of the inmates came trotting in, all covered with sweat and grime from working all day outside. He looked around at Stargazer and the others, all thinking the same questions. All four of them were sure they were going to get the answers as soon as those guys got cleaned up and back out here.

Sprout was more than a little intimidated by the looks of some of the inmates. Worse, the age gap between him and the others was even more apparent. One or two looked old enough to be his mom’s age. He was the youngest pony here and he could not help but feel vulnerable by this fact. Splinter Wood gave Sprout a small pat on his back, getting Sprout’s attention away from watching those inmates heading for the showers and to look at him.

“Don’t let ‘em scare ya’, kid. Just be cool and it’ll be fine.” Splinter’s easy smile quelled a little of Sprout’s apprehension, letting him know he had backup should he need it. Sprout would do as his new acquaintance advised; just be cool and especially watch what he said. The last thing he wanted to do was make enemies of these ponies on the first day.

Chapter 3: Hard Time

“…Eleven…” Sprout announced his assigned number as he stepped through the chain-link fence door, following after one of his fellow inmates. The pony behind him recited his assigned number as well to the counting officer who stood by the gate, taking a headcount of all who were assigned to work detail today. The guys waited around outside the gate in small groups, their voices disappearing off into the early morning darkness and into the incessant glare from the bright light emanating from the flashlights shined in their eyes from the guards.

Once counted and checked, they line up in squads and count off once more by two, all of them standing at a loose and sleepy attention to wait for the daily assignment.

“They’s all her, sir. Ready to move out.” One of the guards reported to Mr. Buttercup while passing the clipboard over to him. Mr. Buttercup rechecked the list, approving of the count and ready to begin the day’s duty.

“Alight, let’s move out.” At the signal, all of them marched after the two lead guards in the column with clamor up into the two wagons, moving as quickly possible up inside, aware that that if they take too long the last pony on board was certain to be kicked in the butt by one of the guards.

Once loaded up, the wagons began to head out, bouncing and clanging over the rough and uneven dirt road that led down and away from the compound and then through an orange grove just to the west of the camp.

Sprout sat at the inner most spot on the benches in the wagon, closest to the front and next to Splinter Wood and across from Stargazer and Quickstep. Sprout hadn’t said much since arriving, letting the three other newbie guys do most of the talking. He’d barely said a word or two since arriving, still trying to get adjusted to being here.

“Hey, boy?!” A husky voice called out from the semi-darkness of their wagon, aiming his comment at Sprout. Sprout sat quietly withy his eyes closed, wishing he could disappear into the dark crevasse of the corner he sat in.

“Hey, boy?!” The voice called out again, more insistently, followed by some soft mocking chuckles from the other guys in the wagon. Sprout slowly opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to see who it was, but he knew just from the sound of the voice.

“What’s up, Ace?” Sprout was actually glad his throat was so dry at that moment, giving his normally smooth middle tenor a gruff, gravely edge, aging his voice and making him sound older and more world-weary than his actual years.

Ace Thunderhoof; the only pony in the work camp sentenced to life without parole for murder. He was physically the biggest stallion in the camp, nearly twice the size of any pony else in the camp as well. He’d been the first one sentenced to the work camp more than two decades ago and had seen many a pony come and go out of the work camp. But up to this point, no one as young as Sprout had shown up here.

“What’s this I hear ‘bout you bein’ some ex-pony of the Law?!” Ace looked around at some of his close fellow inmates, all of them wondering about this small tidbit of information they’d learned and eager to find if it was true.

“Where’d you hear a story like that?” Sprout did not want too much of his background to get found out, worried about retribution from those who felt angry towards an ‘unjust’ society. He kept his cool and kept his voice dead even when answering.

“A lil’ pony princess done flew in thru the window last night to tell us!” Ace made a few of his friends laugh a little with the smart remark. He continued on with his inquiry. “An’ what was that she say you gone an’ done? Tearin’ down new houses with a tractor while drunk off ya’ ass?!”

More of the guys laughed when hearing what act Sprout had committed to get himself sent to jail. Splinter Wood, Stargazer and even Quickstep couldn’t help but smile a little at the ridiculous way Sprout’s crime had been misconstrued by these ponies, blown completely out of proportion.

“What kinda cockamamie thing was that to get yourself thrown in the clink for?! You sure are dumb, boy!” Ace thought it a great laugh for getting into trouble doing something so dumb. To him, if you’re going to commit a crime, it’d better be something worth going to jail over.

Sprout only shrugged and wore a rather blasé expression, glad that it was so skewed in their heads from the truth about what he did and his involvement with Sunny and the others. He gave an equally non-caring answer. “Yeah, well, you know how it is; small seaside town with not much of a nightlife going on. Nothing to do but settle old grudges to pass the time.”

The other guys bought it, laughing a little at his laissez-faire attitude about the repercussions of his actions. Splinter Wood, sitting right across from Sprout, was winking at him for keeping his cool like he did and letting the older guys razz him a little. It was part and parcel for these guys to give newbies like them a tough going. He knew how intimidated Sprout was about being here.

The small wagon train exited the grove, reaching a stretch of roughly graded road that jostled and bounced all of the inmates as they rode along on it. It was only about a fifteen-minute ride to their destination, but just trying to stay in one’s seat made the ride seem longer than any of them wanted it to be. The wagon they were riding in was at last slowing down and coming to a stop along the side of the road.

Sprout, furthest from the small window in the wire-mesh rear door that locked them in, could see the sun coming up over the horizon and how the white clouds were painted a soft pink hue as the first rays light touched them. It reminded Sprout briefly of an early morning sunrise back in Maretime Bay, causing a small twinge of homesickness.

Suddenly, a black shadow appeared at the rear door of the wagon, blotting out the view of the sky to all of them; the sound of jangling keys and the distinct metallic click of the padlock unlocking. Then, the metallic sound of rusty hinges squeaking on rusty pins pierced the early morning air as the door swung back and held open by that dark mass.

“Every pony out! Let’s get moving!”

Sprout recognized the voice barking out the orders in the opaque early morning; it was the head of security, Mr. Buttercup holding the door open. Ace and High Stakes were the first two out the door, followed by Augusta and the others. Sprout was second to last out, following after Stargazer and under the ever-watchful eyes of Mr. Buttercup.

In the dim light, Sprout spotted one of the guards was now perched up in the back of the open wagon that had followed them out to the worksite. He watched as the other pony inmates walked right over to the wagon and waited in line.

“I guess we do likewise?” Stargazer looked at his friends with a small shrug, figuring this was the thing to do. They wait at the rear of the line, watching how each stallion before them was passed some kind of sharp cutting tool, the type used for cutting heavy undergrowth or tough weeds and brier patches.

They watched how Ace and the others all strapped these sharp-bladed yard implements onto either their left or right foreleg and then stand about in a cluster to wait for further instructions. The line quickly moved up. Sprout fund himself looking up at then guard who was looking down at him with an appraising look, as if sizing him up to what he would be best at doing on the work crew.

“Right hoofed or left?” The guard scanned his collection of remaining tools in the wagon for the correct implement.

“Um, right?” Sprout gave a small shrug, not sure what this guard had in mind.

“Here, strap this on.” The guard passed him a heavy steel weed whip to attach to his right foreleg. The cast iron wishbone-shaped fork suspended a wickedly sharp double-edged serrated blade between its two arms at a forty-five-degree angle. Its stubby metal base, anchored in a hard wood shank, was bound in a hard leather pad with three brass center-bar buckles straps to attach to the foreleg with. Sprout and his fellow newbies quickly figured out how to strap them on and cinch the buckles down tight enough so they would not move on their legs. It was a snug fit but not enough to call it uncomfortable.

“Get movin!” Mr. Buttercup is about to tell you punks what the work is for today.” The guard pony pointed towards their fellow inmates who, at the moment, stood about in a loose group while Mr. Buttercup was reviewing some paperwork with another guard.

The four of them made their way over to the group, hobbling a little when encumbered like they were from the items strapped to a foreleg. The blade on each of their weed whips hung a good four or five inches below their hooves, forcing them to rely on three legs to walk steadily on. It took a bit getting used to it but they caught on quick enough and adjust their walking to accommodate this burden. They stayed towards the back of the group, listening.

“Alright, listen up,” Mr. Buttercup got their attention and the small chattering among the inmates died away, “this week, we are to get the rest of the underbrush and scrub grass cleared up along this road ahead for the new railroad cut the surveyors have marked out with the red field markers.” Mr. Buttercup held up one of the markers to show them; a thin yard-long metal stake with a red plastic flag attached to the top. “The crew from the railroad company will be beginning the land grating and drainage operations by mid-week so this clearing work has to get done quickly. That last thing the warden wants to hear is the railroad company complaining that we’re goin’ too slow and holding up progress.”

A small grumble percolated among the seasoned road crew members, understanding that they were going to be worked hard to get the work completed in a week. Failing to do so meant feeling the warden’s wrath. And that meant curtailed visitations, loss of free time or the supply of cold drinks suddenly unavailable in the barracks. Those were privileges to have, and those could be taken away at any time for not keeping the warden happy.

“I want two rows of ten ponies on each side of the cut to clear the tall weeds and the four of you with the brush axes,” Mr. Buttercup point to Ace and the three other large ponies standing slightly off to one side, “to concentrate on any thicker growth at the head of each row. Concentrate on cutting anything the smaller blade can’t cut and keep ahead of every pony in the lines. Every pony understands what to do?”

“Yes, sir.” The group of ponies somewhat lethargically responded, not looking forward to the long day of hard work they were going to be driven at. There was almost a collective sigh of resignment at the sound of the words coming from each pony’s mouth.

“Good. Get to work.” Mr. Buttercup pointed on down further the empty dirt road that waited their attention. Moving swiftly, the two dozen stallions formed into two loosely stung out lines of workers spaced about twenty feet apart on each side of the road. Ace and three other ponies headed a bit further down the road, perhaps another twenty feet in lead of each line to begin clearing the tougher growth from their work direction.

Sprout and Splinter Wood paired up on one side of the road while Quickstep and Stargazer got in line on the other size of the road almost opposite them with in their line. The four of them quickly caught on as to what to do, watching how the other ponies started swinging the sharp brush blade strapped to their forelegs back and forth like a clock pendulum.

It wasn’t hard to do; swinging the weeding-cutting tool and walking slowly backwards at the same time, clearing out the length of roadside until reaching the spot the pony behind them had started from. Sprout quickly figured out the secret was swinging a large arc, letting the weight of the tool falling in the swing to do most of the cutting. He just had to give it a little umph of force with each pass.

Once done with clearing the spot of brush and overgrowth, the crew moved to the next area along the road of tall grass to stand single file again and repeat the same cutting. The score of ponies repeated this process over and over down the length of this road. No pony spoke or chatted up a conversation while working, conserving their energy to make it through the long day ahead of them.

The sun rose more in the sky. All of the work crew could feel the steady rising air temperature. While the early morning air had been comfortable when they’d arrived, now a few hours into the job the air was becoming uncomfortably warm, adding to the strain each of them was under while toiling away.

“Hey, fella, you’d best be slowin’ yourself down some. You’s ain’t gonna make it through the day at that pace.” One of the inmates warned Quickstep, seeing the newbie awkwardly chopping at the tough grass with his weed whip instead of swinging it like he should. One of the other stallions came by with the water cooler, ladling out the cold liquid in small tin cups to all who asked for a drink. Mr. Buttercup allowed them to stop.

The brief break and cool drink were a relief for Sprout, managing to keep up with the others but the sun’s heat was making it that much harder for him. The sun’s blazing glow was only broken up by some high cloud cover that would block the light for a minute or so. They got back to the work, cutting and clearing the seemingly endless stretches of tall grass and overgrowth along this road. Sprout paused his work long enough to look further on down the road. The length of road disappeared off into the direction of the horizon, giving it a seemingly endless length from the perception. Sprout turned back around and groaned to himself as he again began to swing his weed whip, trying to not think about how long this road must go on for.

The temperature crept higher and claimed it first victim. Quickstep had been struggling with the work and was tiring out. He paused his work, breathing hard from the physical exertion and seemed to be wobbling on his legs.

“Hey, you alright there, fella?” Augusta saw how this newbie was faltering on the line, sure to hold up the work for them.

“I… I just need to catch my…” Quickstep tried to breathe deeper, but his head still felt incredibly light and no matter how deep a breath he took, he could not shake this creeping dizziness he felt. Quickstep felt his body go limp and he keeled over, flopping to the ground in a heap.

“We got a pony down on the line here!” Augusta called out to the guards, trying to get Quickstep back up to his hooves. One of the guards came over to check on Quickstep’s condition to be sure he was not faking it just to get out of work.

“Get’em in the wagon and get back on the line.” The guard ordered after giving Quickstep brief look-over, checking his eyes and his breathing. Sprout was already moving towards his friend who was in need of help. He and Augusta managed to carry Quickstep back to the wagon and help get him inside, laying him out on the floor of the wagon.

“There's a water canteen up front of the wagon. Get it for him.” Augusta had seen this before from other new arrivals before; similar in outcome for those unaccustomed to the heat and working under the sun like they had to. It wasn’t uncommon for one or two newbies to drop from the heat on the first day. Heat prostration was a common occurrence out on the work line.

“Right.” Sprout hustled up to the front of the wagon and found the ice chest that kept their drinking water cold for them. Popping open the lid, he took out the water canteen that was full and got right back to the back of the wagon, finding Augusta was up inside the wagon and getting Quickstep in a more comfortable position. Sprout climbed up into the wagon and passed Augusta the canteen.

“Here.”

Augusta took the canteen from Sprout just as Quickstep eyes fluttered open half-way at the sound of Sprout’s voice.

“Wha…? Wha….? Quickstep mumbled in his delirium, not sure what was going on or where he was.

“Take a drink before you try talking, pal.” Augusta opened the lid of the canteen and helped Quickstep hold it up to his parched lips to drink its contents. Quickstep gulped down the chilled water, slaking his dry throat and cooling his innards briefly.

“Here,” Augusta motioned with his head for Sprout to join him up in the wagon. Sprout clamored up and tried to squeeze in alongside Quickstep. “Take over and take care of your friend. I gotta get back on the line before the walking guards get upset.” The roan stallion motioned for Sprout to take over propping up Quickstep and helping him drink from the canteen. Augusta got out of the wagon but stopped and turned around to warn Sprout before returning to the work line.

“Don’t take too long with him. We still got plenty of work to do today.”

Sprout saw the serious look in Augusta’s eyes, aware that he was trying to be helpful to some newbies and not get into trouble.

“I’ll be right there. I just want to make sure he’ll be alright.” Sprout would keep his word and not linger. He helped prop up Quickstep against the side of the wagon, making sure his head was leaning back.

“Yo… You go, Sprout. Leave me here.” Quickstep managed to get the words out between pants of breath, his head throbbing from the heat and exertion he’d overdone on himself. Thick rolls of sweat ran down the sides of his neck and his mane was mated to his coat.

“Not until I make sure you’re going to be okay in here.” The heat in the wagon was just as bad as it was outside, only difference was at least the sun wasn’t beating down on your back. He stayed for only a minute or so longer, seeing that Quickstep was as comfortable as possible. With some of the water from the canteen, Sprout wetted a clean rag from a pile that were conveniently lying about on the seats. He held it against Quickstep’s forehead, trying to cool down his friend. “Just rest yourself for now.” Sprout passed the canteen back to his weary friend who clung to it momentarily like a life preserver. Sprout wondered to himself if Quickstep was ever accustomed to such hard work.

“I… I’ll be okay.” Quickstep panted as he again took a few more quenching gulps of water from the canteen and poured the last bit of water over his head, trying to cool off. Hoping for the best, Sprout clamored out the back of the wagon as best he could while hampered by the long implement strapped to his right foreleg. Sprout had no choice to leave his friend and return to a spot in the work crew.

“How’s he doin’? He gonna be okay in there?’” Splinter Wood had been cutting both his and Sprout’s length of tall grass along the roadside while Sprout was absent, fearful of letting the pace of work slow and draw ire from the guards.

“He’s suffering from heat exhaustion and needs some time to recover.” Sprout slipped into his position on the work line and returned to the steady swinging motion of his foreleg, slaying the long grass.

“Hope he don’t lay about too long in the wagon. They don’t take kindly slackers out here on the road.” Augustia gave a friendly warning to the two ponies who were talking just ahead of him on the work line.

Back-forth, back-forth, back-forth. Sprout swung his right foreleg like a clock pendulum, cutting wide swaths of the tough grass. Sprout and the others worked through the first couple of miles, pausing their work only long enough to take a drink from the water cooler before resuming their spot on the work line under the relentless sun. Worse, the air was still and not a single breeze to relieve them from the heat.

Sprout felt his energy fading, becoming slightly lightheaded from the exertion and starting to wonder if he was going to go the distance on this first day of roadwork. Ponies like Ace and High Stakes and a few others seemed to be unaffected by the heat or pace of work. Sprout endured on more, trying to keep up.

Mr. Buttercup checked his watch again, seeing Short Grub had the mid-day meal percolating away in one of the big pots on the portable kitchen mess set up in the back of one of the open wagons that had come along to feed them. He watched as Short Grub reached for the striker and began ringing the chow bell.

Cla-cling-cling-cling! Ca-cling-cling-cling! The loud, brassy clang of the metal triangle rang out in the air, telecasting its alert far enough for all the crew to hear.

“Alright, every pony, let’s eat them beans!” Mr. Buttercup announced for them to hear. Almost simultaneously, the entire crew stopped what they were doing and hobbled over in the direction of the meal wagon as fast as they could as encumbered as they were. Sprout, Stargazer and Splinter Wood walked more slowly up to the chow line, letting the others go ahead of them.

From off the serving table, Sprout and his friends took one of the tin plates off the stack and picked their bowl out from the collection in the wood crate they’d been kept in for transport. Short Grub, the pony cook who cooked for them at the jail as well as here out on the road, ladled out a large amount baked beans into each of their bowls followed by a thick slice of cornbread that was flopped onto each tray. Finally, from the second pot that was simmering on the stove came a ladle-full of molasses to mop up with the cornbread. The trio move further down to the end of the serving table where canteens of cold water awaited their selection. They join the rest of the crew who were hunkered down under the shade of some nearby trees. The three of them sat together to eat, sitting slightly apart from the rest of the crew.

“How’s Quickstep doin’? Think he’s commin’ out for lunch?” Splinter Wood eagerly spooned another mouthful of baked beans into his mouth, glad to have something to fill his belly with.

“I hope so. I’ll go check on him after eating and make sure.” Stargazer thought it best to do so and make sure Quickstep was alright in there.

Sprout was rather surprised by how hungry he was, quickly consuming his bowl of beans and slab of cornbread. Sprout smacked his lips when lapping up the molasses from off his tin plate, using the last piece of cornbread to mop it up with. Splinter Wood thought it funny to see Sprout devour his meal as fast as he did. Stargazer thought it funny, too, watching the youngest inmate eating like a starving pony.

“Hungry young fella, ain’t he?” Splinter kidded some and Stargazer chuckled a little while chomping off another mouthful of cornbread.

Sprout, satisfied from the meal but tired from the morning’s work, yawned and stretched his forelegs out in front him, trying to loosen up some of the tightness in his muscles from the exertion. He had the inclination to grab a quick nap, seeing a few other fellow work ponies lying about in the shade with eyes closed. Even one or two guards were resting under other shade trees nearby, resting their eyes. Only Mr. buttercup stayed on his hooves, keeping an eye on the road crew.

“Excuse me, fellas, but I’m going to try to rest my head for a bit before getting back to work.” He slid over on his butt the few feet to the big tree trunk so as to lean his back up against it.

He gave a big sigh of relief, trying to get a little comfortable against the gnarly bark of the tree. As best as Sprout could, he tried not to think about the remaining work but instead thought of his old hometown of Maretime Bay and recalled happier times.

“Sure. We’ll check in on Quickstep.”

The other ponies that sat nearby paid the newbies little mind, each trying to eat their meal and rest themselves as well. Spotting Sprout sitting off to the side and looking rather fatigued at that moment, Ace made an off-hoof comment to High Stakes who was sitting just off to his left flank.

“Bet you a cold drink he ain’t gonna make to the end of the day.” Ace bit off another mouthful of cornbread from his slice, smirking with assuredness of Sprout’s failure by being so young and smaller than the rest of them. High Stakes glanced over to see Sprout resting under the tree nearby, his eyes closed. He thought for a moment about his prospects, cocking an eyebrow while the pondering of his odds of winning such a wager. He nodded to himself, silently agreeing with his decision.

“You’re on.” Wiping his mouth with the back of a foreleg, High Stakes put down his bowl and slid his wire-frame glasses up closer to his eyes, scanning about to spot a fellow inmate. He gave a toothy whistle to get his friend’s attention.

Fweet! “Hey, Small Time, get over here!” Hight Stakes waved over the pony he was looking for. Over bounded a brown bay, a twinkle in his eyes about the prospect of money exchanging hooves.

“Hey ya’ fellas,” He was all smiles, always ready to do some business. Small Time whipped out his ever-handy little spiral bound notebook from his shirt pocket and a pencil from behind his right ear. “What’cha all need from ya’ good friend Small Time, eh? Uh, placin’ a little wager, are we now?” Soft in voice when speaking, but those shifty steel blue eyes bespoke of a shadowy deviousness as his focus of attention went back and forth between the two guys, ears perked and ready to listen.

“Cold drink bet between High Stakes an’ me.” Ace motioned with a head nod towards where Sprout lay up against the tree trunk, seemingly asleep. “The newbie over there ain’t gonna make it to the end of today. Dis’ heat here today,” Ace looked up at sun in the sky, “gonna be too much for that little punk ass. High Stakes be thinkin’ otherwise.” Ace looked over at his long-time fellow jailbird with slight smirk.

“He’s got the stuff to go the distance.” High Stakes reasoned since this was Sprout’s first day ‘on the line’ and learning of his police training, figured the red earth pony had more stamina than Ace was giving him due. He would have bet two cold drinks but thought better of it. He still wanted to play poker tonight with the others and needed every cent.

“I am to understand the recompence of said beverage shall come from either of your accounts in my possession then, along with my usual fee?” In spite of Small Time’s known history of ‘shady dealings’ in the outside world, he was the only pony here that all the inmates trusted enough to act as a cash register; being he had worked in the banking industry in the outside world. For this duty, Small Time charged two-and-one-half percent ‘processing fee’ for all bets, loans, purchases or anything else requiring money. Begrudgingly all of the inmates agreed to this, their fear of being robbed of what monies was greater than the small tithe they would pay to entrust Small Time with this responsibility.

“And make sure that’s the only money that is moved around, ya’ hear?” Ace warned, aware of Small Time’s ‘creative bookkeeping’. But Small Time was struck with such pique by the remark.

“Why, Ace, how could you even think of such a thing. I would never be so deceitful and underhoofed as to pilfer such moneys, not from such fine gentle-ponies such as yourself or-”

“Just keep the ledgers straight, Small Time, alright?” High Stakes warned as well, cutting off Small Time. The bookish stallion only shrugged, giving up eliciting any good feeling towards him and finished the entry into his notepad.

“Do you think Quickstep is okay in the wagon? He’s been in there all morning resting up; you think he’s recovered by now?” Stargazer wondered aloud to Splinter Wood, now finished with his lunch and unsure how much time they had left.

“I’ll go get him up an’ out here. I’m hopin’ he’s rested up enough.” Splinter Wood got to his hooves headed for the wagon parked a short distance from where they sat under the tree. Stargazer took Quickstep’s bowl over to Short Grub’s wagon to scrouge up what he could for his friend to eat. He scooped out what remaining beans were left in the cooking pot in the wooden bowl as well as what remaining chunks of cornbread left on the baking tray that he dumped on top of the beans.

By the time Stargazer had returned to their sitting spot under the tree, Splinter Wood had gotten Quickstep out of the wagon and was helping him over to join them. Stargazer could see Quickstep was still looking a little pale and tired from the morning’s workload. No sooner had Quickstep plopped down and Stargazer passed him his meal bowl, a loud metallic whistle suddenly pierced the air.

Ftweeeeeeet!

“Alright, that’s the end of mealtime, ya’ll get back to work.” Mr. Buttercup ordered them to their hooves and the work gang got to their hooves quickly. All of them dropped off their bowls on Short Grub’s serving table as they passed by the meal wagon on their way back to the road. Mr. Buttercup walked over to where Stargazer, Splinter Wood and Quickstep were. Sprout was on his hooves quick enough when hearing the whistle blow but stood to watch what was unfolding before him.

“You three; get to back to work.” Mr. Buttercup ordered with a scornful glare and both Stargazer and Splinter Wood who started to head away, averting looking at the head guard but who continued to look back at their friend as they departed. They understood not following orders was going to cause ‘problems’ for Mr. Buttercup and that flick-stick strapped to his right foreleg looked like it’d seen some heavy use in its day and probably on those who didn’t listen to him the first time. Mr. Buttercup looked down at Quickstep, still holding his bowl in his hooves. He’d only had one mouthful of beans before being ordered back to work.

“Get to work.” Mr. Buttercup ordered, looking down at Quickstep.

“But… but Sir, I… I haven’t eaten a thing all day. I’m hungry.” Quickstep tried to appeal to the straw bosses’ compassion, looking for some ‘wiggle room’ so he could eat.

“I said, get to work!” Mr. Buttercup staring harder at Quickstep, barking the order louder but apparently failing to communicate clearly enough to this slow-witted pony.

“But… but, you don’t understand. I was resting from-” Quickstep never got the chance to finish his explanation as the shock and surprise of what unexpectedly happened next stopped him cold.

Flick! WHAM!

The impact from the flick-stick Mr. Buttercup wielded knocked the bowl of beans from Quickstep’s forehooves and struck him upside his head as the bowl went sailing off in another direction. Most of the bowl’s contents spattered over Quickstep’s head, leaving a gooey mess of baked beans, sauce and cornbread crumbs dripping from his mane and side of his face. Quickstep reared back cry out in fear.

“You hear me, newbie! I said to get to work!” Mr. Buttercup lorded commanded and then shoved Quickstep hard with the baton, forcing him to get to his hooves quickly and heading back in the direction of the road.

“Hey?!” Sprout snapped sharply and took a few steps forward, shocked and angry at the rough treatment of his friend. Mr. Buttercup’s head whipped around to now look right at Sprout, his fiery eyes burned through Sprout like a blowtorch. The expression of ire on Mr. Buttercup’s muzzle made Sprout stop cold in his tracks.

“You got some problem there, boy?!” Mr. Buttercup shouted and then pointed his baton right at Sprout. “Open that sassy back-talkin’ mouth of yours again an’ I’ll give you somethin’ to be upset about, boy!”

The warning came through loud and clear; Sprout had better shut up. For the first time since arriving here, Sprout felt truly powerless and afraid, helpless and at the mercy of some pony else’s whim. Seeing the young earth-pony clearly startled by his threat, Mr. Buttercup leaned in on the two laggers.

“Now you get your asses back to work!” There was no cleared order even given to the two and, keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact, Sprout swiftly moved to help collect up Quickstep, getting his fellow newbie to his hooves. He fetched Quickstep’s bowl for him, trotting after the work crew with his friend and making sure to deposit the bowl on Short Grub’s serving table as they raced by it. Quickstep was fumbling terribly to get his harness strapped on as he waked, still tired from the lack of food and having only recovered somewhat from his heatstroke.

Sprout hustled his friend along as best he could, slipping the weed whip’s harness back on his right foreleg fairly quickly and then assisted Quickstep with his harness.

“Wait, it’s twisted up a little; let me undo this part.” Sprout tried getting the buckles on the three straps straightened out with Quickstep’s foreleg already in the harness, making it much more difficult to correct the strap’s orientation. Quickstep could see Mr. Buttercup and the other guards heading right for them, looking none too happy to spot them not working yet.

“Oh-h-h-h, hurry up Sprout!” Quickstep fearfully moaned and he tried squeezing some of the slimy food goo out of his mane. It was gross. Not only was he still hungry, now he smelled like baked beans in BBQ sauce. Already there were some flies buzzing around him, attracted by the smell of food.

“Almost there…” He managed to get two of the straps flipped around correctly, the one closest to Quickstep’s hoof was too tight and Sprout couldn’t get the buckle flipped over so it wouldn’t dig into his skin. But Mr. Buttercup and thew other guards more almost there and, fearing getting hit from the baton, Quickstep hustled away from Sprout’s assistance, grateful for the help.

“It’s fine…it’s fine. I’ll make do. Th… thanks Sprout.” Quickstep stammered a little as he hurried back to a spot in the work line, quickly getting to swinging the weed whip back and forth like the other ponies. Sprout, aware of his precariousness of getting caught not working, quickly moved to the nearest gap of the closer work line, standing right behind one of the inmates from the barracks he’d not spoken to yet, but thought he’d seen hanging around Ace and some of the others. He smiled pleasantly enough as he greeted Sprout, watching the red earth-pony quickly get into position just behind him.

“Hey, how ya’ll doin’ there, Sprout?” He caught the young pony a bit off guard by calling him by name while seeing Sprout, looking rather embarrassed at that moment, unable to recall his name. Sprout’s hesitation could be read as not wishing to insult any pony by calling him by the wrong name and maybe be seen as some wise guy. Before Sprout could answer, Mr. Buttercup and one of the guard ponies were passing by but stopped briefly to give Sprout a warning.

“Don’t you start laggin’ behind, boy! I ain’t got time for no slackers, ya’ hear?” Mr. Buttercup gave Sprout a hard poke in the ribs, hard enough to cause Sprout to wince and suddenly tighten his chest in reaction. Sprout knew this guy was holding back on him because he was young, and this was his first day. Mr. Buttercup could have easily cracked his ribs with that baton if he had wanted to. The message got through loud and clear; don’t screw up again.

“Yes, sir. No slacking off, sir.” Sprout kept his head down and didn’t dare look up at the older pony lording over him, fearing that this guy could strike him should he say the wrong thing. At least they moved on and left Quickstep alone.

A small snicker came from the pony in front of him on the work line, looking up to see, again, the same bay stallion looking back at him, smirking a little.

“What?” Spout didn’t know what was so funny.

“First day out on the line and you go annoy Mr. Buttercup somehow? You got a lot of balls there, young fella.”

Sprout didn’t want to appear like some troublemaker and earn the ire of his fellow inmates by ‘not keeping order’ like as the rules dictated to him by Sugarfoot demanded.

“I… I guess.” Sprout was not sure how to answer and only shrugged a little.

“The name’s Sketches; a pleasure.” He turned around to extend a forehoof with a smile for a quick hoof-shake and Sprout reciprocated with a nod of greeting. They both quickly got back into position on the work line, focusing on the cutting again.

Sprout kept looking over at Quickstep, working almost parallel in position on the opposite side of the road. Splinter Wood was right in front of Quickstep, but Stargazer was working away several positions ahead of Sprout and was busy just keeping up with the pace.

After only an hour or so, Quickstep was slowing down with his work. The lack of food and being a little ‘out of shape’ as compared to the rest of his fellow newbies, was extinguishing his energy faster than any other pony out here. As they worked along, Splinter Wood would try to slow up his cutting rate, trying to give Quickstep enough time to clear the tall grass in his vicinity before they had to move.

Sprout watched how Splinter Wood would do this, helping out as best he could in order to make up for Quickstep’s faltering efforts. In spite this effort to cover for his friend, Quickstep was steadily fading, unable to get through one area of cutting without stopping to rest or requesting a cup of water to drink from the water pail.

“Step it up, ladies! We ain’t got all day!” Mr. Buttercup snarled, annoyed with insufficient pace of clearing.

Mr. Buttercup kept watch on Quickstep’s cutting, seeing how sloppy or uneven he was cutting it on his walk-byes up and down the length of the work line. Splinter Wood cleaned up the spot once Mr. Buttercup and the other guards had moved on to another spot to observe the inmate’s work.

Psssst! “Hey! Hey! Quickstep!” Splinter Wood hissed softly to get Quickstep to look up at him from staring down at the ground. “You’d best step it up and not make him mad by donin’ lousy cuttin’. Mind your work more and don’t give him no reason to stop near ya.’”

“I’m still hungry!” Quickstep whimpered softly; his plight not lost on his friends. Both Splinter Wood and Sprout hated to see their friend suffer but they knew the only thing they could do was to just endure this first trial.

“I know, but ya’ gotta keep goin’. You’ve gotta tough it out or that Mr. Buttercup fella is gonna have ya’ hide for supper. I know his type; I’ve fussed with one o’ them ponies at another work camp I was servin’ time at. They like nothin’ better then to break any pony who don’t pull their weight on the road crew.” Splinter Wood gave more insight to the newbies about life on the ‘inside’.

“Just imagine how much you can eat once we’re off the road and back at the compound. Heck, just look,” Sprout gave a sideways nod with his head to indicate which way they should look over at. Sprout got them to see that the meal wagon was already departing. ‘See? Short Grub’s heading on back to get supper started. You just have to hang on for a while longer, Quickstep. I know you can do this. Just try to focus and the time will go by faster.” Quickstep gave another groan.

“Aw, I don’t know fellas,” Quickstep panted hard, having never worked under such conditions before in his life. This was nothing like his gardening business back in Green Hill County, where he was from. “I’m not sure I can make it to the end.”

“Here, just try to mimic my foreleg’s swingin’ rhythm with your foreleg too and it’ll take less umph to cut.” Splinter Wood quickly demonstrating how Quickstep should swing his weed whip.

Splinter made wide swings of his left foreleg, taking a step or two back after each swing. “See? Let the momentum and weight of the blade and your leg do the work. Don’t chop at the brush with them tiny swings like you be doin’. Do big ol’ grand-stallion clock kind-of pendulum swingin’.”

Quickstep got in position several feet behind Splinter Wood, swinging his left foreleg back and forth like his friend was showing him. After just a few swings, Quickstep could see how he’d been going about the job wrong and found the cutting to be easier like this. The weight of the weed whip on his foreleg really helped the cutting, just like Splinter Wood said.

“See? Much better. Now, c’mon, we’ve got to get this done or there’s gonna be trouble.” Splinter Wood got things back on track just in the nick of time. Within a minute or two, Mr. Buttercup and two of the guards were heading their way, heading down the center of the two columns of workers, only to slow down enough to look over Quickstep’s progress.

Sprout held his breath as he silently watched from out of the corner of his left eye, keeping his head down and concerned as to what they might say or do to his friend. Those were some very tense seconds of watching Mr. Buttercup and the two guards observing Quickstep and Splinter Wood working cutting the tall grass close to the ground while not uttering a peep as they did.

They watched for about ten to fifteen seconds, seeing how Quickstep was cutting now rather than how he’d done earlier in the day. Satisfied, Mr. Buttercup and his assistants moved along down the railroad cut, looking over the others as they worked.

All three friends gave a big sigh of relief and could relax a little. Having averted any potential wrath towards Quickstep for now, all they could for now was just try to get through this afternoon’s work. The thought of a cold shower and laying down for a while after this workout was drove Sprout on, willing himself to get through this.

Mile after mile and hour after hour, Sprout and his fellow work ponies toiled away at the duty of clearing the railroad cut of brush and grass under the hot sun. Slow and plodding, they ground on until the sun dipped in the West, nearly a third of its spherical shape having disappeared below the horizon already before relief came from Mr. buttercup’s whistle.

Fetw-e-e-e-et! The note could be heard for the quarter mile on ahead where Ace and the other more brawny stallions worked at cutting the tougher undergrowth up ahead at the lead of the work lines. All of them stopped what they were doing and looked up, their attention now on were the sound was coming from.

“Alright fellas, that it for today! Go an’ drop your tools off at the tool truck an’ get abord the wagon!” It was the command they were all waiting for him to give. None of them moved swiftly, the wear on them from being worked so hard showing on their expressions and mere moseying pace.

On the walk over to the tool truck to deposit their cutting implements, Sprout, Splinter and Stargazer huddled around Quickstep, all of them grinning at their friend and giving Quickstep pats on the back for successfully making it to the end.

“Great job, buddy. A lil’ slow startin’ out but ya’ got the hang of it.” Splinter Wood was relieved that Quickstep caught on like he did and got past the watchful eyes of Mr. Buttercup, keenly aware of what ponies like Mr. Buttercup could be like when upset or angry.

“This is really hard work, fellas. I have my floral business back home in Green Hill and have a pretty green hoof for it, but this is nothing like I’ve ever experienced. It’s never this hot even in my greenhouse in the middle of summer.” Quickstep confessed to his fellow newbies, winded and dizzy from the hard work he’d done. They were all sweaty and tired from the labor, but they could see how much more taxed their friend was.

“Well, no need to fuss about it more. We’re done for today and now and in a little while,” Splinter Wood passed his cutter up to the guard pony waiting in the back of the tool wagon, and now stood by the tailgate of the wagon to wait for his friends, “we’ll be back at the compound and get the chance to rest our bones.”

Finally relieved of their sharp cutting instruments and flexing their respective forelegs from the strain of having those weighty implements strapped on all day, they wait at the end of the line to climb up into the transport wagon. As Stargazer clamored up into the wagon, he noticed how Mr. Buttercup and the other guards watched over them, as if annoyed and impatient about how long it was taking.

As he was the last one in line and struggling to climb the short steep steps up into the wagon with limbs as weary as they were, Sprout paused for a second to collect his strength for a final pull up. Annoyed with the delay, Mr. Buttercup gave Sprout a sharp kick in his butt, startling Sprout and making him to spin his head around to see who’d done that. His angry scowl was quickly stifled when he saw who’d kicked him in the butt.

“Get your sorry ass up in there already!” Mr. Buttercup’s ordered, impatient with Sprout’s slow pace. Sprout quickly had remind himself where he was and what could happen to him for getting out of line. He bit his tongue and turned back around, keeping his anger in check and hauled himself up and into the back of the wagon. He’d only taken a couple of steps inside the wagon, passing right by Ace and Hight Stakes, who sat together on one side of the wagon’s bench, discussing something. He paused just long enough to say something to the two of them before seeking out a spot to sit.

“Oh, don’t forget; you owe this pony a cold drink.” Sprout made a nod towards High Stakes while directing his comment to Ace, momentarily interrupting their conversation. He’d overheard them making their wager about him getting through this first day during lunch break. He’d proved himself in a small way to the two of them today and left them to their conversation, moving on past them and then sitting down next to Small Time on his left and having Quickstep sitting to his right. Sprout gave Small Time a small nudge with an elbow to get the flaxen Chestnut-colored stallion’s attention. Small Time turned his head to face Sprout on his right.

“How much did I cost Ace for proving him wrong?” Sprout was only mildly interested in knowing, having gone the distance and proving Ace wrong that he wasn’t a weakling.

“Meh, only two bits; a nothing bet for either of them, kid. Sorry, but you weren’t an expensive wager.” Small Time let Sprout down gently, impressed with the young pony’s mettle and desire not to be seen a week or a target for the other incarcerated ponies.

“Keep you nose clean for now, Sprout. I saw how the walkin’ boss gave you that boot in yer’ backside like he did. Best not to get on that Mr. Buttercup’s bad side.” Splinter Wood reminded his young friend, aware of their precarious positions as newbies here. They were still under close scrutiny by the guards and the warden; making sure they weren’t troublemakers.

Quickstep looked up at his new friends with a small smile of gratitude. “Thanks for helping my you did today, guys. I don’t if I would have made it to the end.”

“Just wanted to lend a hoof.” Stargazer casually waved away the praise, feeling these three guys would probably done the same for him.

Splinter Wood and Sprout nodded with Stargazer’s comment; they just wanted to help out. For Sprout, it was a fleeting moment of satisfaction that touched his heart when getting a chance to help another pony out. It reminded him of his time as Hitch’s deputy; helping out a fellow earth-pony from Maretime Bay when called on. As fleeting of a happy moment it was, the stark present quickly brought him back down to reality of where he was and why he was here.

Traveling along those same bumpy dirt roads the wagons had traversed this morning to deliver them to the work site, they now retrace the route back to the camp compound, bouncing and jostling those who rode inside. Hot, tired and dirty from the work, conversations between most of them were at a minimum too tired to talk. After a short time of travel, the wagons carrying them finally ambled up to the fencing of the compound, coming to a stumbling halt.

They waited in silence for only a few seconds before the locked rear door of the wagon gave a few clicks from the lock tumblers before the door swung open on its hinges.

“Every pony out and line up for inspection.” Mr. Buttercup ordered and one by one, the stallions exited the rear of the wagon and lined up side-by-side in numerical order along the fence line with the line’s head standing just under the sign that hung over the chain-link fence door entrance. Once every pony was out and standing in the line, Mr. Buttercup opened both the inner and outer fence doors for them to walk through. Standing by the innermost chain-link door with one of the guard ponies assigned to camp patrol, and with his trusty clipboard in hoof to check the inmates as they entered, he gave the next command.

“As you pass through, count off!” He ordered and Ace moved on through the doorways and barked out his number.

“One!” Ace trotted off towards the barracks, ready to clean himself up with a shower.

Kibble, the pasty white stallion with red mane and tail who handled the hounds here at the workcamp compound, passed through the doorways and announced his number. “Two!” He quickly followed after Ace.

And so it went for all of them, passing through the twin chain link fence doors and yelping out their assigned numbers as they did.

“Eleven!” Sprout yelped out his number but only went a few feet beyond the door, turning around and waiting for his new friends to enter before going together back to the barracks.

“Seventeen.” Quickstep recited his number to Mr. Buttercup and was about to join Sprout but was suddenly stopped by a wooden baton thrust out to block his way.

“Hold it!” Mr. Buttercup ordered and the guard standing next to Mr. Buttercup stuck out the baton strapped to his left foreleg, preventing Quickstep from leaving. “You, Quickstep; we were watching your work today. I don’t like it when ponies slack off and do half-ass work, especially out on the road. But I’ve got a solution that should get your head right about what you need to do to keep up with the rest of the crew.” He motioned for another guard to come over with a wave. A pale green guard pony trotted right over to his commander, ready to do as ordered. Quickstep’s fear quickly grew, imagining some terrible fate was to befall him just then. Were they going to beat him? Torture him? Starve him to death? A thousand thoughts raced through Quickstep’s mind, almost paralyzing him where he stood from the fear.

“Put’em in The Stall for tonight; maybe that’ll get through to him about not slacking off on the job.” Mr. Buttercup coldly commanded.

“But… but… I was sick from the heat! I couldn’t work-” Quickstep meekly objected but the guard pony was already pushing Quickstep along with that extended flick-stick the guard pony was wearing. Quickstep looked back at his new friends who were watching this happening, seeing them unable to do anything to stop this. Sprout saw the fear in Quickstep’s eyes, none of them sure just what ‘The Stall’ was after all. It had been a vague threat of discipline up to this point.

“Move it, slowpoke, that way!” The guard pony ordered with another shove from his flick-stick, making Quickstep stumble a little. Qiickstep turned his head forward again and headed towards the tiny wood shed some twenty or so yards away from the entrance to the compound, isolated from any other building.

As Sprout watched his friend being escorted away, he heard the rest of the road crew enter the compound, recognizing some by their voices as they counted off.

“Eighteen!.... Nineteen!.... Twenty!....”

Sprout heard hoof-steps come up from behind him, Splinter Wood and Stargazer coming to stand by his side to observe first hoof just what kind of discipline they could be subjected to while incarcerated here. It was something they would not forget after seeing for the first time.

“Get that shirt off with you!” The guard pony ordered as he and Quickstep got to the door of the Stall.

“Yes, sir.” Quickstep did not look up at the guard pony as he removed his work shirt, fearing any further retribution from his keepers should he have the audacity to look them in the eye. The guard removed a keyring from around his neck off and inserted a key into the lock of the door, giving it a small turn to the left to unlock. The guard swung back the door to the tiny structure allowing Sprout and his fellow newbies to see with their own eyes just what awaited Quickstep.

The Stall was a tiny, white-painted clapboard, windowless rectangular box with only a screen vent at the end of each gable for ventilation. It was so small that no pony could walk in and physically turn around in. A pony had to enter by walking in backwards, and then only having mere inches of space on each flank before touching the bare stud-walls.

“Get in there!” The guard ordered again and Quickstep, still not looking up at the guard, walked himself in backwards inside the Stall. Once ensconced inside, the guard placed on the dirt floor in front of Quickstep a squat white porcelain pot with a lid. Sprout instantly recognized what that antique item was from some of those old magazines his mom had on the subject of antique housewares. It was a chamber pot. Quickstep would have to relieve himself into that vessel and have it will him all night. The space was so small that if Quickstep wanted to get off his hooves, he would have to sit on the pot because there simply wasn’t any room else to sit.

Sprout and his friends could hear Quickstep whimpering with sadness of this punishment as the heavy wood door closed in front of him. The guard pony locked the door and placed a wood bar across the door for good measure. With the prisoner secure and the key once again around his neck, he left Quickstep in the Stall and went about his guard duty.

Hearing Quickstep so miserable and tormented like this was very hard for Sprout and Stargazer to hear. Their friend had done nothing wrong, just being a little slow at work and nearly collapsing from a heat stroke. How was this a punishable offence?

“This is awful.” Stargazer only stated the obvious, feeling bad for Quickstep and impotent to fix this.

“It’s why I kept tellin’ ya’ to not get yourself on the wrong side of that Mr. Buttercup fella. You’ll end up spendin’ a night in the Stall just like Sugarfoot was warnin’ us.” Splinter Wood had spent enough time ‘sent up the river’ and wanted his new compadres not to have an easier time while here. He knew what to expect while here and could give them some warning.

“But what about him getting cleaned up first? Or eating?” Stargazer craned his head around Sprout’s to ask Splinter, seeing him now looking at him.

“No shower; he’ll get nothin’ but bread and water for supper. And I hope he don’t have to take a big shit or nothin’ ‘cause he’s goin’ to have that smell with him the whole time in there. Let me tell ya’ Brother,” Splinter Wood gave Sprout a little nudge to get his attention and Sprout turned his focus to Splinter, “that is something I would not wish on an enemy.”

“It’s…it’s not fair!” Sprout groused and he stomped a forehoof and turned back to look at the Stall. “Quickstep’s not a goof off and tried his best to keep up! It’s so hot working out on the road and he got sick from the heat. Don’t they understand?”

“I don’t think Mr. Buttercup, the warden or any of the guards really care, Sprout. He, and the three of us,” Stargazer got both of their attentions, “had better do our best to keep up with the other guys while out on the road. This was one rough day and I’m sure tomorrow isn’t going to be any easier.”

“C’mon, we’d best get on inside and get cleaned up for chowtime.” Splinter Wood headed away, but Sprout didn’t move, still looking at the Stall and thinking about poor Quickstep inside. Stargazer kept walking on, but Splinter Wood stopped and turned his head back to see Sprout wasn’t moving. He quickly stepped over to his young friend who was still looking at the Stall with a look of dread on his muzzle.

Splinter Wood tried to corral Sprout along with a foreleg around the red earth-pony’s neck in consolation. “C’mon, Sprout, no sense standing out here frettin’ over Quickstep now. He’ll be let out in the morning.” After a few more seconds. Sprout silently relented to the older pony’s desire for him to depart and join him and Stargazer. Sprout didn’t like Splinter’s rather blasé ‘fatalist’ outlook on the situation, but he had to agree with Splinter; there wasn’t anything they could do about it now.

They were the last ones inside the barracks, seeing some of their fellow inmates were already out of their work shirts and waiting for their turn for a shower. Others, like Small Time and Kibble were already done with their shower and were standing about their bunks, drying their manes and tails while chatting.

Though there were two dozen inmates housed in this barracks, there were only six shower heads available at a time. That meant everyone had to wait their turn. Everyone, that is, except Ace. He, High Stakes and a few other long timers got to go first, giving them the most time free after washing up to relax before eating. While waiting a turn for a shower, the inmates would do an initial ‘scrub down’ at the wash sinks. This cut down time spent in the shower, and they could get out quicker and relax sooner.

Showers were kept to about ten minutes each and Sugarfoot was unafraid of startling those who indulged in long showers with loud banging on the shower door from a forehoof of his, followed by his loud bellowing for whoever it was in that particular shower stall to ‘get their mangy hide out’ because some pony else needed to shower. Everyone’s shower, that is, except Ace’s. No pony told him to get out of the shower.

There was only a forty-five-minute window between the time they returned from working out on the road to the time Short Grub served their supper, so there wasn’t much time available to get cleaned up and dressed in a clean shirt before mealtime. Sprout and his two friends stepped up to the sinks to try to wash of some of the grime off their forelegs and muzzles. The cold water splashing up on his muzzle felt great and was a welcome relief for Sprout. Stargazer was done first, quickly getting out of his dirty shirt and tossing it into the laundry bin by the showers and waited his turn. Sprout and Splinter Wood took their time, making sure to wash off as much as possible before hitting their shower.

From over by the bunk area strode Ace, showered and dressed in a clean shirt, ready for relaxing and the evening’s meal. He plunked himself down at the table where High Stakes and Augusta were seated, the always-present deck of cards was being shuffled by High Stakes for a few quick hands before they ate. Ace spotted Sprout and Splinter washing up by the sinks. Having cost him the price of a cold drink to High Stakes for making it through his first day, Ace felt like giving a little poke at the young red earth-pony.

“Lookey here boys. Seems like one of the newbies couldn’t hack it today and went and got himself sent to the Stall for it.” Ace started in, a bit of sarcasm in his voice as he got some of the guys to chuckle some at Quickstep’s misfortune. He was directing the comment towards Sprout and Splinter, trying to elicit a reaction by targeting their friend. “They ain’t a smart bunch when the get here. They all end up in The Stall until they learn to shape up hard and fast for this gang. We got rules around this here joint. In order to learn’em you got to do more work with your ears and your back then with your brain and your mouth.”

Sprout choked back a small laugh, hearing Ace getting up on a soapbox and preaching about ‘how things work here’ while in jail. It didn’t go unnoticed by Ace and the others, and they turned to look over at Sprout and Splinter washing up at the sinks.

“Some pony say somethin’ over there?” Ace raised an eyebrow at the sound of some pony’s contempt for his statement, raising his ire slightly.

“No, I didn’t say anything, Ace.” Sprout did not look over at Ace and the others seated at the table, still focused on his washing. A brief moment of silence hung in the air before Ace spoke up again, questioning his friends seated around him.

“What we got here, Augusta?” Ace motioned with a nod of his head towards Sprout, forgetting the names of the newbies already.

“You got Sprout Cloverleaf.” Sprout answered, still not looking over at Ace and the others, focusing on rinsing the soap from off his forelegs. Another moment of silence fell between every pony there, not sure what to make of Sprout just then.

“Nah. See, that’s your birth name. Ace has to come up with a name for you; something that, you know, sorta’ encapsulates your persona.” Hight Stakes kept shuffling the cards, casually explaining things to Sprout with a small smile and trying to keep the mood light.

Ace looked about his friends at the table, thinking up some moniker for this young punk pony. “Maybe we should call’em ‘No Ears’ ‘cause he don’t listen." His attention turned to Sprout again. "You don’t listen too good, do ya’ boy?” There was a bit of insult in Ace’s tone when asking his rhetorical question.

“I haven’t heard much worth listening to. Just a bunch of guys laying down a bunch of rules and regulations about this thing or that thing.” Sprout shook off the water from his forelegs and reached for a nearby towel that was stacked conveniently on a shelf above the wash sinks. As he dried his forelegs, he reflected more about the choices in life he’d made, both in the past and more recent ones, and what those choices had brought upon him. His drying slowed as he continued.

“I spent the past several years of my life following some pony else’s rules and regulations; for all the good it did me. Never thought trying to do the right thing would land me in here of all places.”

It sounded more like Sprout was talking to himself than actually responding back to Ace’s question, as if he was having a conversation with himself right then. Small Time broke up the odd silence, licking his lips before speaking.

“Hey, uh, you know what, Ace? The newbie here looks like the card-playing type. What you think, High Stakes?”

“Yeah, sit down and join us, kid, for a few hands before supper.” High Stakes slid his wireframe glasses up closer to his eyes with the back or a forehoof before waving him over with a smile.

“Eh, wouldn’t surprise me at all if he was. Bet you he’s got a five spot of pocket cash on him when he came here. That’ll buy a whole hoof full of cards to play with so you in or out, boy?” Ace was already scheming at trying to win money off of Sprout. Ace didn’t like losing a bet, even if it was just a bet for a cold soda. He was eager to hear Sprout’s replay of yes.

Sprout finished up his drying and had to let them down. “Sorry. I haven’t got a single gold bit to play with; I’m broke. So, I guess I’m out.” He tossed the towel into a nearby hamper and was about to follow after Splinter Wood to get on line for a shower when High Stakes informed him of an important fact.

“Don’t sweat it; I’ll front you a five spot until Friday when we get paid.”

This caught Sprout’s attention, causing him to stop in his tracks and look at High Stakes, questioning. “Paid?” The guys around the table gave a small chuckle at his naiveness at being uninformed about this place. Ace clued him in.

“Yeah, motorhead, paid! Didn’t you hear him? You get ten bits a week cash for working out on the road. We all do.” Ace saw the incredulous look on Sprout just then. “What? You thought this was some ‘slave labor camp’ kind of deal ‘round here?” Ace laughed a little at Spout. “What damn turnip truck did you fall off, boy?” The guys seated around Ace chuckled a little more.

Sprout let the jab slide, wanting to get along and not cause a fuss at the moment. He kept it cool. “A very poor one because I learned to never gamble with another pony’s money and to stay out of debt. So, if you’ll kindly excuse me,” Without another word, Sprout departed from their company and headed back towards the shower area to wait with Splinter and Stargazer. While a part of him was pleased with himself for making it through this first day, he was relieved beyond belief at not getting tangled up with Ace and his crew. The last thing he needed was to get in debt to one of these guys from card playing. Who knew what kind of ‘debt payment’ could be extracted from him should he fall into such a predicament.

“You okay back there? Those guys say anything to you?” Splinter was glad to see his friend was unharmed by saying anything foolish or insulting to Ace or any pony else.

“Fine. Just letting those guys go on talking like they want about me. I’m not going to tangle with Ace or any of his bunch.” Sprout sounded sure of himself, as if he could isolate himself from the others and get by without dealing with them.

“That means they’re curious about you. Might do some good to sit down with them and play a few hands. How did you leave it with them?” Splinter was pleased that Sprout could make some inroads with some of the older fellas here.

“I said maybe. One of them said we get paid ten bits a week for working out on the road like we were.” Sprout watched another stallion head into the showers as another one stepped out. The line was quickly dwindling, and he was looking forward to getting clean.

“Sorry, I forgot to mention that to you and the other fellas. Yeah, we get a stipend for working. It ain't much but it can pay for a few things to make time here more bearable.” Splinter completely forgot to tell Sprout or the others about this, too busy today with just getting into the swing of working on a road gang. Two more ponies emerged from the showers and two more entered, now it was just he, Sprout and two other waiting to get in.

“Yeah, well, I’m going to try and be careful around those guys. They seem pretty sharky when it came to their card games.” Sprout felt it best to keep to himself and not draw too much attention for now.

Just then, three more of their fellow inmates emerged from the showers, freeing up enough room for Sprout and Splinter to finally was off the day’s grime from their bodies.

“Like I said before, just be cool with them and it’ll be alright.” He headed for the showers with Sprout following right after him.

“Trust me, I’ll be a cool as a cucumber. The last thing I want to do is piss any of them off for any reason.” He’d played it cool so far and made it through the first day. There were many more days ahead of him and there was no way of know what was in store. All he could do was take it one day at a time.