It's storytime!!!

[singlesadact]

Mostly grey as the red ones are shyer. Here comes the following morning.

It must have been 4am or so when Daring Do jerked violently awake, shaking with terror, as yet again her memories of recent events plagued her. Once more she was in a strange bed, this time badger-sized, in a strange inn in a strange country. The population spoke a language similar enough to Equish, but with all these weird accents. The weather was different, the culture was different, the customs were different; & though she’d befriended many creatures here, not only were none of them little Ponies like herself, but also they all had their own weirdness about them. Or maybe she was the weird one? It was times like this she began to doubt her sanity, & thoughts like these she’d rather not share. She got out her notebook & wrote some more, until she was sick of writing. She then took the pot of salve & spare bandages by her bed & re-treated her wing & a few other scars until she was sick of the smell of that salve. Then she headed down the stairs to the guest lounge, where a trough of rainwater stood ready, & drank until she was no longer thirsty, then rinsed herself off everywhere she wasn’t wearing a bandage until she was cleaned & sick of that activity. She was in the middle of towelling herself off when Nuzzle came to join her, also taking a drink from the trough. One look at Do told the fox all she needed to know.
“You be homesick!” the caring fox observed.
“I think I’m a bit culture-shocked to be honest,” the Pony replied. “I mean, everything’s so different here. You’re different, & I feel like..”
“Me in a rabbit warren!” Nuzzle finished off. “Like everybody be staring at you & a bit scary, or a bit scared, but you be unable to be telling which. That be perfectly natural lovie!” Nuzzle hugged Do as warmly as a fox with an injured foreleg could hug another creature, whereupon Do returned the hug, feeling the soft, clean fur of the fox, & being glad of another creature as fastidious as a Pony. That was it! Do simply had to stop looking at what was different & focus on what was the same! The Bulls, deer, goats, sheep, rabbits, hares & Shire horses were as vegetarian as she was. Many of them, along with the foxes, bloodhounds, dolphins, orcas & most of the birds, lived in large communities with complex social structures. The foxes, lynxes & wildcats were all very hygienic; while the felines showed signs of high intelligence. Even the enemies Do had battled against knew about teamwork & helping each other. Focussing on the differences between her & the others only encouraged fear; whereas it was their similarities, their common cause, their shared experiences, which had made these widely varied creatures Do’s friends & allies. She & the fox just stood there, hugging each other in silence for a long time, before finally the Pony thanked Nuzzle & returned to her bed, whereupon the fox did the same.

The hawk, a sparrowhawk called Cloudfeather, was hungry & in need of a morning meal. He’d flown a lot last night, delivering all his messages here & there, & once he’d got his rest, his appetite spurred him into the air. Insects were rising in the post-storm air, rejoicing in the dawn light. Cloudfeather was pleased at this. All these insects would bring out birds, as would the earthworms taking the opportunity to stick their heads above ground for a breather in between channelling the new water to assorted roots below. A few bluetits ventured out to gather as many insects as they could, chirruping their warnings as they sighted the hawk. But the bounty on offer was too much to resist, & the small birds knew there was safety in numbers. So a whole flock of sparrows flew together, the parent birds in the centre, as they had to get back home to feed their fledglings. This way the sparrowhawk could pick out the edge birds & have his own bounty, which Cloudfeather did. He caught three sparrows of his own, even as the flock panicked at the presence of a stranger in their midst. This stranger was almost all grey in colour, except for a distinct black on top of his head, much like a cap. The sparrows had no clue who this stranger was, or even what he was, but the bluetits did, & gathered themselves protectively round the bird. Now Cloudfeather was a lot of things, including hungry, but he was by no means stupid, as stupid hawks starve; & he also respected intelligence when he came across it. So he killed a couple more sparrows for the hell of it, thereby sparing the bluetits & their charge, then he found an unoccupied tree to eat his meal on, before he approached the delightful-looking birds & their new friend.
“I have eaten now,” Cloudfeather assured the blue & green birds, “& I know a tern when I see one, so wish no harm on this messenger. I only wonder who his message is for...”
The grey bird with the black “cap”, who was indeed a tern, sighed with relief, especially at the two dead sparrows still in the clutches of Cloudfeather’s talons, & replied: “I’m Beret, & have been sent on the most dangerous mission, what with being unmated. I have a message for the Lion’s Head, from West Africa, & I must admit to being more than a little nervous at going there...” (All terns sound French, a language spoken not only in France & Canada, but also in a number of places in Africa.)
“I know the regulars of that tavern,” Cloudfeather confirmed, “& have recently had business with them myself. Please, tell me your message, so I can deliver it & save you the trouble, as I believe some there see your head as a highly valuable trophy.” And they were ignorant fools, Cloudfeather thought. Terns were among the bravest, most intelligent birds Cloudfeather knew outside of raptors. Even the eagles gave these birds a wide berth. But the merlins of the Lion’s Head would be after the bodies for meat, & the heads & tail-feathers for decoration, so Beret was right to be so scared of the place. Many of the dogs there would also have no qualms taking down a tern. But Cloudfeather recognised the vital importance of the job the terns did. They were the global messengers, able to literally fly from Arctic tundra to tropical jungle to Antarctic wasteland, surviving on fish. The orca Ternguard got his name from consuming a barracuda who wished to make a meal of a tern picking up a snack from the waters, as he was flying delivering his message. A bit like Fed-Ex, there was nowhere in the world a tern couldn’t reach, as they could handle all sorts of different temperatures & climates. Therefore Cloudfeather spared every single tern he could, especially if there were other birds about. Sparrows were his favourite of course, hence his breed name. They were plentiful, just the right size, & a bit daft. Not to mention their work wasn’t that hard: planting seeds for those animals who couldn’t do it themselves. Those seeds would pass undigested through Cloudfeather & be planted somewhere along with his droppings, growing into some delightful surprise for a wandering herbivore.
Beret passed on his message: the fact that the foxes who’d travelled with Cabailleron were now stuck in a mine in West Africa, where they were overhauling the mine’s safety standards, which before their arrival hadn’t really existed. The foxes would be there for five years, Beret said, as they’d been caught fouling the carcasses of ground squirrels, a small herbivore native to West Africa. Cloudfeather marvelled at how well-travelled this tern was. No way should these winged encyclopaedias be seen as prey by any creature of intelligence. He himself had never heard of a ground squirrel before. He agreed to pass the message on to the Lion’s Head & its patrons, then flew to catch another two sparrows before returning to his wife, who would receive the prey delightedly, along with a little regurgitation from her husband, before herself feeding her own fledglings, while he flew on to the Lion’s Head to pass on Beret’s message to its intended recipients.

“Wakey, wakey Do, it’s time to get ready for Heiferford.”
What-y, what-y, Do wondered as the cheery Scouse voice of Mooris came at her door, rousing her from sleep number two. She got out of bed, groomed herself & put on a clean shirt. Heiferford meant she had to look smart, so she pulled a pair of green ribbons out of her saddlebags to braid her tail & bun her mane with. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to present herself in a military parade by a long stretch. At least today’s journey was short. Just follow the Rye road from here to Heiferford, find the military base, & discover what was going on. Finally presentable & packed, she exited her room & saw the strapping young Bull right by her door, looking very pleased with himself at being part of her escort team. She noticed he too had made an effort to smarten up, even as his proud grin widened at the sight of her smartness. The two headed down the stairs, with Nuzzle, also smartened up, joining them as they went, to find the rest of the party assembled like a parade themselves, just waiting on these last to join them before tucking into honey cakes from their packs, filling their water bottles from the rain vats, & sitting to a delicious fruit & nut breakfast. Everybody complimented Do on how smart she was today as they ate, the foxes tucking into more of their kippers. Nuzzle herself was from a den on the outskirts of Heiferford, where Scarlet Force had joint meetings with the Horns on assorted troubles & how to deal with them. Do recalled the size of Gloxter, the biggest place they’d passed through in the Byredom so far, & also the size of Washpoole, the first town she’d arrived at. Nuzzle also knew the size of both places, & so could use them as reference to let Do know what to expect.
“Heiferford be bigger than both here (Moss-on-Rye) & Washpoole. A little smaller than Gloxter, but far more organised. It be primarily a military city: one of the main IHHA areas in the Byredom, & every creature be having their own living areas. Feline predators & the more sensible of the rest be permitted to stay, as bad injuries often be happening to soldiers, so they be needing a “long limp” when they be getting so bad as be affecting quality of life.”
“The inn you’ll be staying in is called the Milkshed,” Cress continued as he placed his hoofboots onto bandaged & wrapped feet, “where Bull & Scarlet Force fox alike relax & chill out after being on a mission. I myself have spent many a night in that inn; celebrating a job well done, congratulating a promotion or medal, or grieving a good friend. It can sometimes be pretty raucous, as warriors like to let off steam, but now I think it’ll be a lot quieter... They do have fox-beds, which we already know you fit into nicely! When we arrive you’ll get another chance to drop off your packs & neaten up before being presented to the Horn-In-Charge, one Colonel Duncoat. You’ll like him: he’s firm, fair & honest as the day is long. I actually fought with him back in the day...”
Do laughed, used to the cattle habit of talking your tail off by now. “Well don’t you think we should get moving?” she prompted.
“Agreed,” Nuzzle replied. “Thankee badgers for your hospitality this past night, & thankee cats for your help yesterday.”
The rest of the party also extended their gratitude to both host & ally before setting off into the morning sunlight.

As if the Lion’s Head needed any more bad news! Cloudfeather found himself ejected from the tavern after his message delivery without so much as a by your leave. He’d heard of the expression, shoot the messenger, certainly; but for these creatures to take out their grief & anger on him was uncalled for. After all, if it was his wife, he’d rather know she was alive & safe, rather than always wondering. But then, if it was his wife who died, woe betide any who came too close at all!!! They were angry, that’s what it was. Angry at having lost so many friends: some to death, others to prison. He didn’t have to take their rejection to heart; he wasn’t the true cause of their pain, & in time they’d realise that. So he killed another two sparrows to get the stress out, before returning to his wife with food which was always received with a sigh of relief, as young hawks have short digestion times & need fed constantly. He himself was received with love & respect & a listening ear from his wife, who was no less intelligent than him, & advised him to either stay in the tree or just hunt the sparrows to keep their brood fed.

A bluetit, who recognises terns.

And Cloudfeather is a sparrowhawk like this one.

And a wee edit because for some daft reason I didn't have this one, here are some sparrows, Cloudfeather's favourite food.

[pinkkittywinks]

Looks like me and Doo woke at about the same time tonight/ this morning!

Love pkw xxx

[singlesadact]

Lol and just like you soon, Do is arriving somewhere important next

The sky looked perfectly clear, after being washed the previous day. All the dust & haze was gone, & the beauty of the countryside was intensified by it. Rich greens, vibrant golds, vivid pinks & all the other colours of summer shone as if lit from within. The Rye also looked clear, as all the detritus had been washed through. It still flowed more quickly than usual, but Do & her party could still see the fish struggling to survive, turning a strange pale colour in the water. Only the excess rainwater was allowing them to still be alive now, although it was obvious to Scarlet Two the fish were too ill to consider as food. Good thing they still had some kippers left, & good thing Nuzzle’s den was in Heiferford, stood like all the fish-eaters of the city as a sentry-post between herbivorous territory & predatory dwellings.
“Hasbro, that looks bad!” Do noted the condition of the fish in the river. As an experiment, she strayed off the path where the trail to the river bank was easy, then dipped her muzzle in & tasted the water... & immediately spat it out with a “YEUCH”, before using her water bottle to rinse her mouth, followed by all that being spat into the river too. What was it about the water? Do pondered this even as she told the others: “Whatever you do, don’t drink ANY water from that river! Use the rain vats, find alternative water sources, & back me up in telling Colonel Duncoat this water is undrinkable until further notice!”
Anvil dipped his mouth in the river as well, for which Do rapidly scolded him. “Tastes fine to me,” the old bull told her.
“You said it yourself,” Do reminded him. “We Ponies are more sensitive to tastes & smells than you. Trust me; it’ll stand you all in good stead to heed my words.”
Nuzzle too had a taste, & like Do spat the water out. “There be a weird taste in there I be not sure of,” she put in, “& on top of that the fish be having a bad time, & unhappy fish & unhealthy fish be not tasty fish, believe me! You be not catching me drinking that water, I be telling you that now!”
The water, Mooris thought. There’s a problem with the water? He’d been clued in last night with everybody else regarding Blackie’s remarks on the Lynx’s Yawn. Like all Horns, Mooris knew the place well; after all it was one of three hills they were tested on. The outer strength tests were easy for any bull, & most if not all the hopefuls had sailed through those. But the real challenge was the inner strength trials, including the rigorous three-hill challenge, the forest stealth challenge, the soaking challenge, & the infamous arena. Each of those challenges chopped the hopefuls’ numbers in half, before they were told there was one more strength they had to be tested in: emotional. Deprived of sleep, hay & a soft surface, the Bulls were harassed & questioned constantly by members of Scarlet One, who’d all been told to use teeth & claws at will. They didn’t wear their bandannas the entire time, meaning a red bandanna meant the test was over. Scarlet One foxes also tested other Scarlet Force foxes in this way, as well as their own recruits. Every single test stuck in the memory of the bulls who earned the title of Horn, as it was meant to so the Horns could draw on this knowledge when they really needed it in their work. It also meant Mooris knew for a fact the Lynx’s Yawn was one of the three sources of the Rye river; so now he knew the water was off, he realised it was being polluted at the Yawn. It had to be: why else would it be so guarded & so secretive? He shared this with the others as they walked on, outlining the intense testing methods to Do. “A fox who later introduced himself as Bopper gave me this nick here,” he told the Pony. “He said he always gave a nick to a trainee’s ear as it stings like mad, & would teach the trainee how to handle pain. Vixens handle it better, he said, because heat & birth are painful for them, so they have a higher tolerance for it.”
Do grinned at the Bull. “We met Bopper, & Sharpclaw!” she pointed out. “We stayed in their den for lunch yesterday in Gloxter. They seem like really competent foxes.”
Snowshoes grinned herself, having known both foxes since cubhood, & said so to Mooris. The Gloxter den of Cowbell Hill had been a Scarlet Force den for a very long time, & those born there thought being a Scarlet Force fox the best thing in the world. They could go on adventures, meet all sorts of creatures, & still use their hunting instincts on catching fish & fighting enemies. Why be a carrion-fox, left to clean up everything? Why be unscarfed, & despised by every creature you came across? Why be any of that, when you could be a Scarlet Force hero? That had been Snowshoes’s belief all her life, & she was proud to be part of Two. She too shared this with the others, as Do recalled getting her cutie mark. She had three friends during foalhood, & they all loved going on adventures together. Do had always been more cautious than the others though, so when the storm had come she’d stayed at home, while her friends had gone out to play. It turned out later that storm was a hurricane, & it had stayed for a few days. Do had gone to each of her friends’ houses, checking if they’d made it back yet, & like their parents had become very worried to find they hadn’t. But unlike the parents, & her own, Do had wanted to do something about finding them. So she’d flown to see the strongest pegasi she knew: the Wonderbolts; & told them about the plight of her friends. Then along with the flying aces, she’d gone out to look for them, repeatedly calling their names & trying to put herself in their hooves. She knew them well enough to figure out they too would be scared & seek some kind of shelter. She’d eventually, along with two of the Wonderbolts, located her friends, huddled together in a strange cave nopony had ever seen before. There’d been something else inside that cave the adults had immediately taken charge of, but Do had seen it & now knew it to be a dragon egg. The Bolts had obviously taken it to Dragon Isle where the native dragons would look after it & hatch it if it was a good one. When she & the Bolts finally got her friends back home to their parents, her cutie mark of a compass rose appeared on her rump; & when the weather had improved, the four friends had gone back to the cave & explored it, taking all their findings to the Wonderbolts. All three of those friends had become Bolts since, & very good ones too. Spitfire was one of them. She herself had taken a different path, especially as her mother had been killed by Ahuizotl the first time she’d encountered him. The stories the different creatures shared of their experiences made the journey up the Rye feel shorter than it was, & by the time Do finished sharing hers, all could see the outskirts of Heiferford in the near distance.

Beret didn’t have to worry about the Lion’s Head now. That hawk had proven himself trustworthy & a respecter of intelligence, so the tern had no doubt the Lion’s Head knew of their part of the message. The other half, however, was to be delivered elsewhere, across the borderlands, to a place called the Lynx’s Yawn. Ravens are highly intelligent too, so let the tern pass without any bother. Beret’s concern right now was the condition of the fish in the water below him. Sea fish were better, but river & pond fish would still keep Beret satisfied enough, if they were healthy. But these fish looked pale & sickly, & as the tributaries split, the ones along his trail to the Yawn looked even worse. So Beret took a detour up a different tributary, one of the other two main ones, where the fish were far healthier, & plucked a couple from the water to eat. He took his sweet time resting in the fine weather; a rare occurrence in the Byredom, as even he knew. The fish were far less salty than his usual fare, but still tender & enjoyable & healthy. After his meal, he took the chance to preen himself & bathe in the fresh water, before taking off again, flying back to the join where he could resume his journey to the Yawn. He soon reached the cave, only to see it guarded by wolves. Beret hated wolves! But he still approached one of them with great caution, getting close enough for the wolf to hear his speech, while keeping high enough & distant enough to not get eaten. “Message for Ahuizotl!” he called to the wolf.
“From whom?” the wolf growled at the tern, obviously told not to trust ANYBODY!
“From Cabailleron,” Beret called back.
The wolf growled at his fellow guards to let the tern through, then instructed the tern: “Enter, but fly high. Bulldogs are within as well as Ahuizotl himself. Deliver your message, make no comments as to what you see inside, then leave immediately when told to do so, or I WILL eat you myself! Am I clear?”
The wolf’s tone as he gave these orders told Beret not to ask any questions about what was inside he shouldn’t mention or remark on, so he simply said: “You are,” & flew in, keeping high because of the warning about bulldogs. Unlike wolves, bulldogs aren’t that intelligent, & many would eat terns on sight, just for being birds. He saw the bulldogs, who rapidly caught his scent & began barking, as another dog, the likes of whom Beret had rarely, if ever, seen in his life before, growled at them all to get back to work. Work turned out to be turning a huge stone wheel on top of another, as if grinding something, & adding strange substances Beret had never encountered, except the two he recognised from the mine where the foxes were being held. Mythril crystals were highly valued worldwide, being the main ingredient in many magic spells & placed at the tip of every wand, while brimstone was a key ingredient in explosives. The rest was unfamiliar to Beret, but it was obvious something magical was going on here. What he didn’t know, but with the brimstone it couldn’t be good. But he’d been warned to say nothing, as his wolf guide addressed the strange dog, who turned out to be Ahuizotl & was consulting a huge tome which, had the dog been able to lift it, would have crushed ten of Beret under its sheer weight & volume. It was then Beret caught sight of the pool, & the shape within. An egg? Every bird knew eggs, as they were hatched from them. But a magical egg? Oh, dragon! It had to be a dragon! And that would explain the brimstone. Dragons were creatures of fire as well as magic, & brimstone was heavily associated with fire. But Beret kept silent. It was most important he get out of here alive, to alert the Dragon Lands another egg had been found. (I decided to have Mythril crystals most readily available in parts of Africa, like diamonds are in our world. In this world prison labour is most often used for mining the crystals, while in ours there is a huge amount of corruption involved...)
Ahuizotl caught his attention now: “What is your message, tern?” he snapped.
Message, message, thought Beret, & recited it: “Cabailleron is in West Africa. The foxes with him were detained & sent to a mine, where they’re implementing safety standards, while he found some hyenas, led by one Eyepatch, & is now working with them to get a new fleet up & running. He says the hyenas hated another band who betrayed him & the foxes, & were happy to assist in a revenge attack on the band, even eating them once they were all killed. Cabailleron himself is aiding them in refurbishing their fleet, asking for only a skiff for himself to travel on so he can come back to you when need be. He wishes to know if you need him at any time in the near future...”
Ahuizotl interrupted at this point: “Tell him & his new hyena friends to get here as quickly as possible. The Equestrian is about to reach Heiferford as we speak, & once she’s there she WILL want this place investigated. I will require all the backup I can get; that goes for you too, wolf. Now, both of you GO!”
“Do as he says,” growled the wolf, himself ready to leave for every hunter’s tavern in the area, the Lion’s Head included, to spread the news. Beret didn’t question him. Scared as he was of the wolf, this other dog terrified him, especially if he had the wolf in fear! He just flew, heading the quickest way he could for a coast, to find seawater fish & more terns. The dragons had to be told of the egg, the Equestrian had to be warned, & every local carnivore & herbivore had to be alerted to the fact a battle was due to take place at the Lynx’s Yawn, Slate Hills, United Byredom. Plus he had this message for Cabailleron, which he had to carry himself. Beret had a LOT to do!

“By the left, quick MARCH!”
The Equestrian Daring Do was due to arrive any minute, so every Bull in Heiferford had been brushing up on their parade drills & groomed until their coats shone. Their horns had been polished until they too gleamed in the mid-morning sun. They all wanted to show their best & smartest side to the international visitor. Within seconds of the final drill being started, four lots of foxes, each wearing their own coloured bandannas & also groomed to a smart sleekness, joined the drill seamlessly. Heiferford’s branch of Scarlet Force had spent their penultimate drill marching to the Byre Lines, where the Horns were based. The local herbivores had all watched & waved as the smart parade of foxes had marched by. Rabbits even took their kittens to watch the procession. But the show wasn’t over yet. For also on the streets, starting from the south, another party of six bulls & a whole patrol of foxes also marched as one, with a rather unusual looking equine in their midst, looking her smartest & marching in sync with the others. Mooris led the way, followed by his unit, while Anvil & Cress took the rear behind Prick-Ears. Nuzzle was glad the Bull just ahead of her had thoroughly relieved himself before this last stretch, as cattle-wind was NOT something she wanted in her face at the best of times! But she was too professional to let that show now. Even Daring Do herself only allowed her eyes to move, skimming the crowd on the streets waiting to welcome her here. At some point later she’d love to chat with some of the deer & goats, & play with the rabbits & hares, but now was not the time. Now she had to enter the Heiferford base, meet Colonel Duncoat & get right down to business. There was literally no time to waste! This became even more apparent as she felt bird feet on her back again, only this time they were smaller, & there were two pairs. She had no choice now but to ignore them until she reached the Byre Lines at Cornflower Hill. Snowshoes, the fox directly behind Do in the parade, hissed “Terns” so Do could know who her new passengers were. Terns, too right, Do thought. This was huge! Trouble at the Yawn, water pollution in the Rye, Heiferford cows being unable to produce milk for their calves, never mind for everybody else who relied on it to heal & keep strong. And Cabailleron, & others working for Ahuizotl, already having tried to stop her so much as getting here too many times for her liking. All of this added to a massive issue indeed. And the terns would know this, as the global messenger birds. Finally the Byre Lines parade & Daring Do’s parade met & merged into one, the whole escorting Do the last few hundred yards to the Byre Lines, in the gates, & through to their main meeting barns.
“Company, HALT!” yelled a Bull & everyone stopped, assuming straight stances with heads held high. Even Do’s avian passengers stood their straightest on her back, beaks pointed directly forward & tail feathers directly backward. The only things out of place in the whole thing were Cress’s hoofboots & the bandages on Do & her party, & even they were all fresh & clean, with the hoofboots looking dazzling. The Bull who’d yelled the command separated himself from the rest of the parade, before marching along the lines of Bulls & foxes until he saw Do, the two terns still perched silently & smartly on her back. The Bull stated that he himself was Colonel Duncoat, & what an honour & a pleasure it was to have Do here. Do spoke next, thanking the Colonel & outlining everything she knew so far, along with her advice regarding water consumption in the city. Then finally the terns spoke. They were a mated pair, called Tete-Noir (tet nwar) & Ceilie (syailee), & were spreading the word a dragon egg was in the Yawn, & there would inevitably be a great battle there, hence the pair. Battle news was always sent by two terns in case one was killed or hurt. Other pairs had been dispatched to Dragon Isle, Cloverland, all over the Byredom mainland, Brienne & even parts of West Africa. Nuzzle confirmed what Do was saying about the water once the terns had finished delivering their message. Then Colonel Duncoat thanked & dismissed the terns before dispatching Bulls & foxes to spread the word regarding the river water. As so many had been out watching the parades, it wouldn’t be difficult to get the word out to every citizen to find alternative water sources wherever & however they could. All that remained now was for Do & her party to be shown to the Milkshed Inn, while the word spread like wildfire, not only of the water issue, but of preparation for war.

[pinkkittywinks]

Do is keeping me company again

Love pkw xxx

[singlesadact]

Before the battle, there's always the build-up.

Sur-La-Mer was the only unmated tern among the Sever Estuary colony Beret had found, which was why she’d been assigned as his pair when he’d told its alpha pair the news. Said alpha pair had got rapidly to the job of assigning pairs of terns to a route & a part of Beret’s message. Beret himself would go to Cabailleron in West Africa, but not alone, as per battle drill. So Sur-La-Mer was shoved on him. Neither said a word of complaint about this: there was a job to do & protocols to adhere to, & the battle drill of pairs was there for a reason. As they flew Beret briefed Sur-La-Mer on what Cabailleron was like, & his current circumstances. Sur-La-Mer shuddered at the mention of the hyenas, as her mother had been eaten by one. Beret assured her they’d only be addressing Cabailleron himself. It was a long journey, even for a tern, so they stopped twice for fish from the sea below them. Eventually they passed the Ape-Rock straits & were over the African coast. Local terns & gulls soared up to meet the pair, the former seeking the news. Beret briefed them, asking about the location of a hyena called Eyepatch, with whom the recipient of his part of the message was stationed. He & Sur-La-Mer found themselves escorted to Eyepatch’s village by another pair of terns, where all of them saw hyenas busily working on building boats. Beret called Cabailleron’s name, & the creature approaching as he did so seemed, to Sur-La-Mer’s relief, not to be a hyena, but something like a cross between a small horse & an un-striped zebra, only with a weird protrusion sticking out of his head. Cabailleron, the unusual non-hyena, walked calmly to a tree where the terns could perch, safely distant enough from the hyenas’ jaws, then requested the message, enquiring as to the presence of four terns.
“Two are local, & are escorting us due to the presence of hyenas here,” Beret explained, “while I got paired up with this lady here due to battle drill. Ahuizotl wants you & your new friends to come to the Lynx’s Yawn at as great a speed as you can muster, as the events at the Yawn have been discovered, & war is imminent.”
“I take it he wants us to come immediately?” Cabailleron clarified.
“As soon as you can,” Beret confirmed, trying to comfort Sur-La-Mer who was nervous, even in the tree, about the close proximity of the hyenas. Cabailleron thanked the terns & told them to go, while he got busy assisting the hyenas in finishing off what boats they could, before all of them were to set sail, heading northwards. Cabailleron wasn’t powerless by a long stretch, nor was he a coward; but he knew Ahuizotl too well to ever consider any of his commands an option. After all, Ahuizotl was a dog, & a big enough one to be able to kill & eat Cabailleron if he didn’t toe the line. What Ahuizotl said, went; it was as simple as that.

A dragon egg! Do realised this as she sipped a berry cocktail at the Milkshed while waiting for lunch. She now recalled the exact connection between the incubation pool & the dead pool. The water in the incubation pool had to be fresh, & filled with a special solute only suitable for hatching dragon eggs. The run-off from the incubation pool went to the dead pool, so named as no creature, fish, amphibian, reptile or otherwise, could survive in it. As the water in the dead pool evaporated, the solute was left on the banks, from where the dragons could harvest it & return it to the incubation pool. Do had seen the runoff & tried to drink it, getting a taste in her mouth & spitting it right back out; as her red dragon friend gave her water, instructing her strictly to rinse her mouth out immediately, as the solution was poisonous: hence its being diverted to the dead pool so it affected no other creature. No wonder the Heiferford cows couldn’t produce milk if their water was polluted! She hoped getting them all on different water would restart production, meaning they could feed their remaining calves. Ten were now dead, & Do wanted this to be the final count. Another thing which had to be done was to get the water from the Yawn tributary diverted somewhere so it would no longer pollute the river, which would require the help of the local beavers. Most importantly, the dragons had to be informed one of their eggs was here, so they could take it where it belonged & either hatch it & raise the resultant dragon, or destroy it if it was a black egg. Black eggs meant trouble, Do knew.
“Would you like some colcannon?” an old cow behind the bar asked Do, distracting her from her thoughts.
Before she could reply Anvil was right there: “NO! You can’t do that! Ponies can’t eat potatoes!” he panicked. Do sighed with relief! Starch gave her worse runs than Anvil had had due to corn consumption! All rice & pasta Ponies ate had to be washed thoroughly to get rid of it, while potatoes were strictly off the menu, being the starchiest food there was! Cereals were ok, as longer-chain fibre was good for Ponies. But nowhere in Equestria was there so much as a bag of crisps or a portion of chips, never mind roasted, boiled or mashed potatoes! Anvil had obviously studied the book on Pony culture well to be able to realise this fact. She thanked the Bull for his intervention, who asked the cow to instead serve Do some lentil soup & bread, or anything potato-free.
“Oh right,” the cow realised, “so they’re like small horses then?”
“Yep,” Do confirmed, smiling & recalling the delightful food she’d enjoyed at the Horse & Cart.
The cow got busy getting the horse-friendly dishes so Do could eat, while dishing out the colcannon, which Anvil told her was a Cloverlandish dish of spinach & potatoes the Bulls had learned about during the Wolfhound Troubles, to the cattle there. The foxes, meanwhile, had some retired members of Scarlet Force behind the bar serving them fish dishes, which delighted Nuzzle’s patrol immensely! It still took a long time to serve everybody, as half the staff were checking the levels in the rain vats, now deemed the only safe source of water there. Do would be glad she & Nuzzle were being taken so seriously.

Ternguard’s pod were relaxing in the West Aquastrian sun, laughing & playing & taking a well-earned rest after a lot of hard work. They’d stuck around the Ridge area after Hookfin’s pod had taken over from them, helping out whenever extra muscle was required. Then another party crossing the Ridge from the other direction had needed escort, & Ternguard’s pod had volunteered for the job, as staying in one place makes a creature used to constantly being on the move stir crazy, but that had been work too, as this party had needed a Caribbean isle, & Ternguard’s pod had had to fend off some pretty big sharks & a couple of stingrays; & although orcas can usually handle rays, stingrays are so called because they sting! And the experience had not been nice. But the party were safely where they needed to be, & Ternguard’s pod, finished work, were having fun challenging each other at the tricks the SBS flankers had taught them, & not half as clumsily as you might think. Orcas are not so dissimilar to dolphins in their builds, with only their size - & the size of their dorsal fins – setting them apart in that way; so anything a dolphin can do, an orca doesn’t find too difficult. Their aqua-batics were an awesome spectacle, even catching the attention of a few tiger sharks in the water, searching for birds to eat, when a pair of terns flew near the whole thing. One of the tiger sharks was the first to notice the terns, & the fact they were paired. Nudging an orca with his snout, the tiger shark did his best to draw her attention to the terns in the air, even as a few sea eagles flew ready to pounce down on any fish or smaller seabirds in the area. Seeing the terns, & the eagles, the orca called Ternguard’s name, whereupon he too noticed the threat. The tiger sharks waited for the sea eagles to come swooping down, so they could meet them before they hit the water, while the orcas guided the terns away & close to them to escape the clutches of the eagles. Two eagles flew away, their attention caught by some herring gulls making a racket nearby. Another was only interested in the fish who had been disturbed by the antics of the orcas. Big sea creatures move a LOT of water when they play, & that can disorient more than a few nearby fish. But two were determined they wanted tern for lunch, & weren’t so easily deterred. One became food for the tiger sharks, while the other was halted by a flick of Ternguard’s tail. Now that’s a big tail, & it sent the sea eagle flying a long way before he regained his balance, by which time he was nearer the herring gulls anyway. So Ternguard once again earned his name. The grateful terns explained they were looking for Dragon Isle as they had a message to deliver there.
“Is that why you’re paired, or is it really coming to war?” Ternguard asked them.
“Both,” the terns replied. “By the way, what’s your name? We passed a pod run by an orca called Harpooner who told us to deliver a message for him to somebody called... Ternguard?”
“I am Ternguard,” the orca replied, confused. “But who is Harpooner?”
“He said you’d ask that,” the terns said, “& to tell you in response he used to be called Obsidian, & he needs to tell you something & ask you something.”
Ternguard was still clueless, & he didn’t like it: “Well go on then!”
“Harpooner says to tell you his mother has been killed, & she was called Hook...”
Ternguard’s whole pod sighed a huge sigh of sadness, interrupting the terns. He himself responded: “...fin! Oh drooping dorsal, how awful! And she wasn’t so old either! What a huge responsibility for her young son! Now what was it he wanted to ask?”
The terns told the orcas – whose mood was now a lot less cheerful – Harpooner needed guidance on orca mating rituals, as he had a female in mind for his life-mate, but had no clue how such a bond was to be forged. He wanted to meet Ternguard back at the Ridge in the next day or so to enable the older, wiser orca to advise him on this, & any other tips he could give would be useful too.
“I would be honoured to help!” Ternguard promised. “I liked Hookfin, & now the very least I can do for her is advise her son so he can maintain his pod. But first we shall escort you ourselves to Dragon Isle, where a coastal dragon can take your message to the dragon king. Coastal dragons can both swim & fly, making them the ideal messengers in the Dragon Lands. This way.”
Ternguard’s pod swam as the terns flew, a youngster grabbing a few fish for them which they received gratefully, sharing their condolences. West or east, north or south, orcas are orcas, & everyone who dies is grieved at some point by everyone who survives. It’s true pods feel the loss of a pod-mate more severely than that of a different orca, but it’s still a painful thing for an orca to hear one of their number has died. So the procession Eelsnapper the coastal dragon saw coming towards her was a sad, if rather unusual one.
“Ternguard, is that you?” she queried as the pod of orcas & the pair of birds approached. (Eelsnapper, like most dragons, has a generic US accent.)
“Yes, Eelsnapper, it is me: guarding a pair of terns again.” Ternguard replied, without even a smile.
“What gives?” the coastal dragon asked, noticing the lack of playfulness in the cetacean.
“They told us an orca we knew from the East has been killed,” the sad orca replied. “And they say they have a message for Dragon Isle too. We’re escorting them as the sea eagles tried to attack.”
“Paired terns & attacking sea eagles can only mean one thing: war!” Eelsnapper stated with a wisdom even surpassing the oldest of orcas. “Speak, terns, & share your message.”
The terns told Eelsnapper about the dragon’s egg found in the Lynx’s Yawn in a place called the United Byredom, & the imminent war over control of the area & possession of the egg.
“Is it being incubated?” Eelsnapper asked worriedly. “And do you know its colour?”
“We think so,” the terns replied, “or at least our colleague Beret thinks so, & he says the egg was very dark, maybe black...”
“Only one colour darker than bright purple exists for a dragon egg, & that is black!” Eelsnapper was adamant. As a dragon, she knew every possible colour of every dragon egg. And all dragon eggs have a colour you can find in a pack of twelve colouring pens, except there are no brown ones, & the darkest – other than the black ones – are bottle green, royal blue, & bright purple like Rarity’s hair. You don’t even get burgundy eggs. “I will pass your message to the dragon king, so he can decide what we do about it. Take care on your flight home, terns.” With that Eelsnapper took off, heading to the centre of Dragon Isle & the dragon king’s cave; while Ternguard’s pod & the terns headed together for the mid-Aquastrian Ridge to meet Harpooner.

Pincushion’s family were disturbed by the racing of wildcats running north as if a fire, flood or great battle was coming, then soon after their ever-attentive ears heard a pair of terns flying a similar path, which took flood out of the equation. The remaining two possibilities meant small creatures like Pincushion had to pack. They may be small, but Pincushion & his family are only vulnerable to 3 threats: golden eagles, whose beaks are excellent at getting rid of their quills; wolves, who often harvest them for both food & sewing utensils (or sometimes stuffed whole); & fire, which threatens every living creature. Pincushion had a short lifespan, & couldn’t remember further back than his grandfather’s time; so neither he nor his family had any recall of dragons, except they brought fire with them, & therefore should be treated like fire. When dragons had ruled here, they’d delighted in roasting Pincushion’s ancestors & using their quills like cocktail sticks. Fire meant pack & RUN!!! Ideally in the same direction everybody else was going. War however meant run towards the battle, as Pincushion’s ilk can team up with larger herbivores for them to use as living weapons. Hooves, slingshots & catapults of various sizes sent them flying through the air, whereupon they ensured they landed right in the face of the enemy, spearing noses, scratching cheeks & half-blinding them. In case you haven’t guessed yet by his name & the fact he’s small with quills, Pincushion is a hedgehog, & a very cautious one; so by the time another pair of terns arrived asking for recruits to aim missiles & be missiles, his family were already packed, wearing their spectacles & asking them whether it was fire or war. Discovering the latter, Pincushion’s whole family, including the youngest who even at a few months old had sharp nasty quills, headed off for the Lynx’s Yawn & the battlefield.

Meet Pincushion, a hedgehog. He & his family are nervous & short-sighted, but know their spiny bodies can make formidable weapons.

[pinkkittywinks]

I’m getting quite anxious about the black egg!!!

Love pkw xxx

[singlesadact]

More preparations and some battle notes, along with a little good news, coming up

The briefing barn wasn’t very big, but then not many creatures needed to be in it. Duncoat, Mooris, Do, Nuzzle & Prick-Ears, Anvil (who’d share with Cress who was getting his hooves treated again), four other foxes, each representing local branches of Scarlet One, Two, Three & Four respectively, & three Shire Horses, whose spokes-horse was called Blaze; were all who needed to be here at this time. The first issue to be addressed was alternative water supplies for Heiferford: hence Blaze’s presence in the barn. He & all the Shire Horses who could be spared would gather as many empty barrels as they could, take them in carts for the north bank of the Sever, where the local beavers would assist them in filling the barrels, before they took their loads back up to Heiferford, not forgetting to drop off some at Moss-on-Rye on the way. This would have to be done every day until the all-clear was given by members of Scarlet Four, who would be despatched on enlisting the Heiferford beavers to divert the problem tributary. As each group was assigned their duties, they set out. Next was the local branch of Scarlet Two, led by a fox Nuzzle liked & was acquainted with. All their foxes would be split into smaller teams; each assigned a direction so they could appeal to the local herbivores & Scarlet Force members, also passing word among the feline communities, to be ready for war. They too rushed off to spread the word. The remaining foxes: Nuzzle & Prick-Ears’s patrol, local Scarlet One, & local Scarlet Three; would accompany Do, Anvil & Cress up to the Yawn itself on the morrow, as it was a long journey & there was plenty to do before setting off. Mooris, finally, would check on the cows as they drank water which was no longer polluted, waiting for them to produce milk. Priority one was their own calves of course, but priority two was Do’s party, so any spare Milk was to be sent to them by whatever healthy Bulls Mooris saw fit to do the supply runs. Mooris didn’t need told the risks of doing these runs with war imminent; so would have three units on standby, ready to run with Milk supplies when they became available. Finally Duncoat dismissed the remaining creatures, before himself heading to the quartermaster’s to have the war supplies ready & waiting for the remainder of his Bulls, whom he’d brief in a larger barn about the war which would soon be upon them. Do’s party, now a lot larger, headed back to the Milkshed Inn, where Anvil asked if they had any IHHA surplus stock for sale, before briefing Cress. Nuzzle & two of the Scarlet One foxes departed again soon after, heading for the local fox-den for Scarlet Force’s armoury there, while Do had surreptitiously been pocketing stones every time they’d been heading from one place to another, except on the parade. Now she undid her mane & tail, placing them both in a far easier style she could actually feel comfy in, as well as fight with, before once more salving & redressing her wing, which unfortunately didn’t seem to be getting much better. Hasbro please let this work, she thought. She NEEDED that Milk!

Here follows a note on armour & weaponry. I try to make my animals as anatomically correct as possible, & on top of this Bulls fight best with what nature has already given them, so top of the list for them are spurred boots for their hooves & bayonets for their horns. Bulls, like Ponies, can also shoot catapults, but as they’re bigger they can carry much larger catapults, including two-creature weapons. This also gives them the ability to fire much larger missiles, which they can kick as well, like Anvil’s Buckballs. They have the ability to pair up with birds who perch on their backs & affix another catapult to their horns, from which hedgehogs can be launched. This especially applies in war. Heiferford Bulls are trained in handling fire, & often use the two-creature catapult for flinging burning missiles. As our animals are sentient, they know the difference between a fire in a controlled area, like a fireplace, & one which has gone out of control, like forest fire or excessive dragon fire. Do is also being issued a quad of spurred boots, as Bulls’ hooves are small enough for her hooves to fit in their footwear, although it does go halfway up her legs. Armour for Do is a bit more difficult to obtain, but she’s making do with some fox armour, especially chainmail, which unlike plates allows for more freedom of movement. Most of any animal’s moving parts are covered in mail in this manner, with plates applied to the more vulnerable areas like the chest & flanks. Do’s head is tough, but nowhere near as tough as a horned herbivore’s, so a helmet is essential for her, as are helmets for the foxes. Bulls do have a small plate for their horn area, with a nose bridge extending downward to the muzzle & a perch for the birds, but these are more likely used in war than in a simple skirmish. They will be used though, as war is coming in our story. Note there are no guns used, as none of our animal characters have separate enough fingers, thumbs or other appendages to make pulling a trigger easy. However, using the teeth or a hoof or paw to pull back a string or similar is far easier for them, hence the catapults. Bows are a tad trickier due to having to be held in a certain manner, plus the fiddly nature of arrows; but crossbows make the work simpler, hence the foxes’ frequent use of that weapon. You simply load, wind & press a button or pull a lever to release the bolt; which a fox can do easily with their muzzle as they hold the crossbow in their paws. Fox teams, like old human riflemen, alternate their crossbow fire so one lot can shoot while the other reloads, keeping a steady stream of bolts shooting at the threat. Hedgehogs have smooth quills, which can be dressed in sharp cones often coated in poison. Grass snakes like Greenie often help apply the cones, a very fiddly task, before painting on the poison usually obtained from plants. They train for war by flinging each other through the air, to learn their equivalent of the parachute fall, a technique used by parachutists & skydivers so when they hit the ground they can get back up & do their work with little to no injury. This is considered important so the hedgehogs can flee quickly from the enemy when they’ve hit a target; so they can return to be prepared for the next throw. During the throw they always curl into balls, thereby protecting their legs & their bellies. Their quills do provide a bit of cushioning to help them land safely. Birds gather stones & rocks, & drop them from a good height so they fall quickly, causing a good deal of pain to the enemy; while squirrels also use catapults with tiny missiles, all of which they sharpen for maximum effect. Goats have head plates much like the Bulls do, but as their main method of attack is butting, not goring, their head plates are spiked & can hold attachments which spear into the enemy with all the force & weight of a goat who’s reared up before literally launching their head at the threat. That’s going to HURT!!! Apart from doing the more fiddly jobs, grass snakes are quite literally living ropes, & as such can bind, hobble & strangle the enemy, not unlike their larger friends the boa constrictors, who kill by squashing their prey to death. Rodents are excellent spies due to their small size, & often sneak in through small holes to discover the enemy’s plan of attack. Mice, rats & voles also tunnel brilliantly, & can often, with the assistance of badgers, rabbits & hares, dig out the ground on which the enemy stands, thereby trapping them in a hole. Their sharp teeth are also excellent at sharpening assorted missiles, as well as delivering a nasty bite. As felines are also on the side of the herbivores in this war, I can’t neglect their style of combat either. As expected, there are a lot of teeth & claws attacks involved, & while the former are designed specifically for tearing into meat & are therefore very tough & well-rooted, the latter, the claws, are a bit more delicate, due to their retracting nature in many species. Smaller wildcats (the ones only a tad larger than our household pets) find quill-cones great claw armour for battle, while lynxes have special battle gauntlets made for them. In their case the gauntlets can be kept; housing & protecting their paws while enhancing their claws with sharpened metal. The paw part is made of padded chainmail below, to allow for better feel of the ground while running, & solid plate above which the lynxes often decorate. Like the foxes, plate & mail armour is essential for them to protect their vulnerable areas. Females always battle with belly plates to protect the nipples, & pregnant females never go to war, instead minding those too young to fight. All felines are able to manipulate their tails, which are dressed in barbed chainmail so when they hit the enemy they leave scars. For war the same poison used on the quill cones is painted on the barbs. Like Do, the most powerful weapon of any horse is their kick, so horses have war boots with spurs & blades attached, delivering more than just the hugely powerful blow to the enemy. Flank plates are also essential, as is chainmail for their legs & torsos, & helmets to protect their heads. A charging horse can rear & strike with the forehooves, while a retreating one still has the rear hooves to attack with. A horse is not preparing to run if he turns his back on you: he is preparing to kick! The war boots also enable horses to kick missiles like Buckballs towards the enemy. Nimble herbivores like squirrels, hares & otters, & also birds & badgers, often ride on the backs of horses, so passengers & mount can protect each other. Ravens, crows & other carrion birds called to war are most likely to be perched on the back of horses, ready to take off & use their sharp, tough beaks to peck at the enemy, along with their talons. Plate is only worn by carrion birds on said beaks & talons, with the rest protected in light mail, to enable movement & keep the weight down. If any bird gets too heavy, they can’t fly, & flying is not only their best defence, but also gives them extra advantage in attack. Geese however like to fight on the ground. Better at defence than attack, they guard the archers & the armourers, wearing mail jackets & beak-plates, making their hits that much worse should the enemy get too close. Crossbows in fox size can also be used by hares, otters, beavers & badgers, while rabbits can use smaller ones, helping the naturally timid creatures to fight from a distance. Badgers pretty much rule as sappers (those who transport bombs to the enemy) with their naturally low gait, their ability to feel the ground & their sharp teeth. Due to this their plate is mostly on their backs & heads, with chainmail below. Their ability to tunnel also allows them to explode the ground below the enemy’s feet, which they can feel above them through the ground. Beavers, & otters like Tumble, will be involved in the war too due to its being located by a river source. Obviously their strong point is water attacks. Their weapons & armour are therefore not made of metal, but of fish bones. These are plentiful for the creatures as fish is their main food source. They make the weaponry themselves, focussing mostly on their powerful tails. Covered in sharp spikes, their tail armour is both delightful to look at & deadly to the enemy. They also make bone chainmail to wear as protective armour, while fashioning their own crossbow bolts from the bones of larger fish like pike. Most land animals have as much trouble breathing underwater as we do, so the beavers & otters weave nets with bone hooks tied into them & use them in aquatic war zones. Any predator coming to attack them in their territory will be caught in the hooks & quickly drown. Do & her friends spent the best part of the afternoon acquiring all the weapons & armour they’d need for the war to come, as she, Anvil & Cress signed book after book for their suppliers; all three being well-known authors. The main suppliers of weapons & armour are moles, who, hidden away in deep burrows, find the metal ore & process it over charcoals to make steel, which while hot they make into quill cones & chainmail, also pouring into moulds for military grade Buckballs, crossbow bolts, helmets, armour plating & assorted blades & spikes. Moles are too timid & small to do any actual fighting, but they contribute in this way.

Meanwhile the enemy forces were also marshalling. Un-scarfed foxes, wolves, stoats, polecats, adders, many species of dog & all the raptor birds were dressing in chainmail, plating their claws & sharpening their fangs. What to do with the corpses they made was no problem to them: they’d eat them. Every last one also dosed up on adder-venom-antidote, as the adders dripped some venom onto every claw plate, before training the polecats & stoats in counter-snake warfare. Inns & taverns like the Lion’s Head were full of these forces gathering & readying for the war to come.

What of the sheep & deer, you may ask? There the answer is simple: these creatures keep the home fires burning for the rest of Do’s allies, volunteering their own elderly as fodder for the felines preparing for battle & their families, while being the rearguard at every village, town & city: its only line of defence with so many called to action. The enemy too needed strength to go into battle, which meant many would be on the hunt for food, & with so many adults out preparing for war, the young were far more vulnerable. Cloverfields deer were by no means the only ones who knew how to conduct a lockdown; the rest of them, along with the sheep, had just as much knowledge & ability for this. Lockdown halls were filled with every youngster of them, including the feline kittens the elderly sheep & goats gave the first lesson of hunting to. Among the most callous of predators, even the young of other predators is considered fair game, literally. So protecting the lynx & wildcat kittens was just as important as protecting foals, leverets, calves, rabbit kittens, fox cubs, chicks, & all the cows & calves. Cows don’t fight for one simple reason: they have huge udders which can easily tear in battle. The udders of ewes & nanny goats are not much different either, making them high-risk in battle. Of course they can defend where necessary, but going out to attack is not a good idea when your biggest vulnerability is a fully exposed, virtually hairless protrusion hanging down from your body. This is why the innermost ring protecting all the young they could was made of these mothers facing outwards. It was here, drinking on water imported from the Sever to the Heiferford lockdown hall, where one of the Heiferford cows noticed a small trickle coming from her udder. Her only surviving calf was lying down behind her, as she lowered her body, lying down on her side, before telling her calf to come to her. She placed the calf’s head on the teat with the trickle so he could taste what it was. The calf did, & spat, whereupon the cow felt a huge gushing feeling in her udder. You may have heard breast-feeding mothers refer to this as “let-down”. The calf tried again, & this time swallowed, & swallowed more, as other calves smelt the familiar scent of cow’s milk & three more came to drink their fill. Heiferford’s lockdown hall was right next to its military base, so the spokes-ram headed right across to give the Lines the good news. Meanwhile some other mothers in there noticed trickles of their own, responding to the sights & smells of the four calves feeding on the first. Deer quickly squeezed out the bad bits so no other calf had to spit, while assigning four calves to each cow. Even with war imminent, hope began to rise in Heiferford. Milk was being produced once more!

Meet the adder, the only venomous snake in the UK. His venom is one of many things our heroes will have to fight against.