The trials and tribulations of managing your own personal pony village.
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Thread 30426528 Post 30430185

!F9CBa509ak 2017-06-30 10:20:57 No. 30430185
>>30392018
>>30402458

>...
> The afternoon is unseasonably warm, as if a portent of the end of winter and the coming spring.
> Or, perhaps, of the embers of discontent burning in the camp - ready to burst into flame at any moment.
> Though rapidly falling towards the horizon, the sun was not yet set.
> You'd ended the work day hours early and called this gathering while the sky was still light.
> The ponies - your ponies - needed to see this with their own eyes, all of them.
> Merely listening to a PA system speak was not enough.
> And so every single pony was crowded into an open field on the edge of the camp, their collective body warmth combined to form a blanket of heat over the equine mass - enough to stave off the falling temperature even once the sun vanished.
> "Are you ready for this, Master?"
> Tearing your eyes from the murmuring horde of four-legged shapes, you glance down to the alicorn at your side and shake your head.
"No. Not ready. Not in the least. But time waits for no man - or pony. Come."
> There is no need to call for quiet as you step out onto the stage.
> From the moment you are in sight, a wave of silence sweeps through the crowd.
> Rumors, as you expected, have been spreading.
> A few guards linger just out of sight behind you; Gene had made the correct call in assuming that trying to surround you with a wall of men and arms would only make you seem standoffish and vulnerable.
> Instead, the only ones that accompanied you out on to the speaking platform were three ponies:
> Cadance, and two of the ponies who had elected to take up positions as guards.
> Neither was Thunderlane.
> You weren't clear exactly where he was, but you had some guesses.
> When questioned, Gene had simply shaken his head and said the stallion would not be there.
> You hadn't pushed it.
> Halting in front of the podium that had been set up, you pause and wait for the last whispers to die away.
"There is no easy way to say this."
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