//------------------------------// // 276 - Childish Games // Story: Lateral Movement // by Alzrius //------------------------------// “I bet we’ll get to go home soon.” Fiddlesticks couldn’t help but smile at that, glancing up from where she was watching her little brother playing in the grass to look at Cleansweep. “You think so?” “Uh-huh!” Fluttering her wings in excitement, the neon yellow filly flew in a loop, grinning as she completed the maneuver. “I asked one of the ponies who went with Lex into Vanhoover this morning, and he said they didn’t see even one monster!” “Well, yeah, but it was the middle of the morning. Everypony knows that monsters don’t come out in the daylight.” Fiddlesticks circled around as she spoke, making it so that her friend and her brother were both in her line of sight. “Sometimes they do!” insisted Cleansweep. “Like, Crunchy said that he’d spoken to some of the ponies that kept ponies from leaving the city, and that some of those ponies said that the monsters would jump out at you even during the day if you weren’t careful.” Fiddlesticks let out a huff. “Since when you do listen to anything that Fruit Crunch says?” She didn’t look at Cleansweep as she spoke – being too busy stopping Tiddlywinks from trying to eat the snail he was watching – but her voice made it clear how she felt about the boy her friend had mentioned. “I wasn’t listening to him,” Cleansweep protested. “We just happened to sit near each other a few days ago when Lex made that huge feast for everyone. It’s not like I wanted to hear what he had to say.” She fluttered back down to the ground. “Besides, that’s not the point. The point is, if he’s right about that and nopony saw any monsters in the city this morning, that means the city might really be safe again!” She gave a toothy grin, her earlier excitement resurfacing. “I can’t wait to go home and clean everything up! I’ll have everything looking as good as new by the time my mom and dad get back!” Fiddlesticks kept her eyes on Tiddlywinks, not trusting her face to keep her real feelings hidden if she tried to reply to that. Cleansweep had gotten her cutie mark – a vacuum cleaner – only a few days before the flooding. When the disaster had struck, she’d gotten separated from her parents in the rush to get out of town, losing them in the crowd of ponies heading for the docks. She was sure that her parents had gotten on a ship and were just waiting for the chance to come back. Fiddlesticks was far less confident, but knew better than to say anything; the knowledge that her parents were never coming back hadn’t made things any easier to bear. If Cleansweep still had hope, then Fiddlesticks wasn’t going to take it from her. “Actually, my dad says we’re probably not going to be able to return to the city anytime soon.” Both fillies looked up at the new voice, Cleansweep rolling her eyes as she saw who it was, while Fiddlesticks smiled, raising a hoof in greeting. “Hi Straightlace,” she smiled at the off-white pegasus colt, his green mane and tail and cutie mark of a striped necktie identifying him immediately. Her grin widened as she looked at the other colt hiding behind him, a unicorn with a coat the color of burnt tan and a dark blue mane and tail, his cutie mark being a silhouette of a bird with its wings spread. “Hi Feathercap.” Feathercap gave her a tentative smile before his eyes slid over to Cleansweep, the way he always did when he was around her, holding his ever-present binoculars in front of his face as though hiding behind them. Straightlace’s reply was much more forthright, giving a crisp nod toward Fiddlesticks before turning his attention back to Cleansweep. “My dad says that even if we had enough supplies to sanitize the city, there aren’t enough of us to get it done in a timely fashion, and that it’d probably take months at best, years at worst.” “No way,” scoffed Cleansweep. “When I got my cutie mark, I ended up cleaning my entire house in just one afternoon! At first I was just sweeping the living room, but when I went to empty the dustpan I realized that the kitchen needed some cleaning too. And then I kept going once I was done there, and the more I cleaned the better I felt because I was making everything shiny and beautiful, and I started singing and cleaning some more, until eventually I’d fixed up the entire house!” She leapt back into the air as she spoke, pirouetting in place with a rapturous expression before returning to the ground, giving Straightlace a triumphant look. “And the whole thing only took a few hours, so there’s no way that cleaning a city would take years.” Straightlace’s brows furrowed. “My dad said-” “Put a sock in it, Lacey,” came a new voice. “Nopony cares what your dad said.” The foals all turned to look at the newcomer, save for Tiddlywinks, who took the chance to eat some clovers without his sister noticing. The pony striding up to them was an earth colt with a dark chestnut coat and bright red mane and tail. Despite his obvious youth, his thick build made it abundantly clear that he’d grow up to be a powerhouse of a stallion. His cutie mark – a hoof squashing a banana, pineapple, and a bunch of grapes – drove the point home. Sneering, the colt casually strode up to the group as he continued to address Straightlace. “I dunno why you think he knows anything anyway. He was just some mid-level clerk at city hall.” Straightlace, who usually never lost his rigid demeanor, inhaled sharply at that. “My dad is civic functionary,” he replied frostily. “He was appointed to his position-” “-because he kept Granny Hoofingford’s books for her for years, and she made sure to get him a nice cushy job after he got too old to be eye candy for her anymore,” snickered the colt, chuckling as Straightlace turned red. Frowning, Fiddlesticks finished pulling the clovers out of Tiddlywinks’ mouth before standing up and marching over to plant herself directly in front of the new arrival (and missing as her brother leaned down to devour a dandelion). “You leave him alone, Fruit Crunch,” she warned, glaring up at him. Despite the fact that the stallion was almost a foot taller than her and nearly twice her weight, Fruit Crunch – a scion of Vanhoover’s McNeigh family – backed off, holding a hoof up in a placating gesture. “Hey, is that any way to talk to the pony who came here to check on you guys?” Cleansweep tilted her head. “Check on us?” Fruit Crunch flashed her a cocky smile. “Yeah. I was worried about you and Fiddleface, since the little creep over there was spying on you again.” He nodded toward Feathercap as he spoke, leaving no doubt who he was accusing. “I-, I was not!” squeaked Feathercap, looking like he wanted to sink into the ground. Despite his words, the look on his face made it obvious that he’d been doing exactly what the larger stallion had said he’d been doing. “Oh please,” snorted Fruit Crunch. “You had those dumb binoculars pointed right at them. Your tongue was practically hanging out.” Feathercap looked like he was about to cry, shrinking down behind his binoculars as much as he could. “I…I thought I saw a grass warbler,” he mumbled miserably. Fruit Crunch sneered at that, ignoring how Straightlace was glaring at him and Fiddlesticks looked ready to explode. But it was Cleansweep who spoke first. “Hey, come on, Crunchy. Leave him alone. Besides, he probably did see a grass warbird or whatever it was, right?” The last word was directed toward Feathercap, along with a kindhearted smile. It was enough to make the colt flush red, nodding gratefully. “There. See?” Fruit Crunch shrugged, like he couldn’t believe they were still talking about this. “I was just kidding around, Dust Bunny.” Somehow, when he used a nickname for Cleansweep, it didn’t sound mean the way it did for the rest of them. “Not my fault the little runt can’t take a joke. Anyway, c’mon, I got something I wanna show you.” Fiddlesticks piped up before Cleansweep could. “She’s hanging out with us right now.” Fruit Crunch’s lip curled. “Doing what? Listening to Lacey doing his impression of his dad’s echo? Watching you babysit your kid brother? Please. I’m talking about doing something that’s actually fun.” “Then we should all go,” interjected Straightlace suddenly. “My dad says,” he said those three words challengingly, not giving Fruit Crunch a chance to answer before he continued, “that even here in camp it’s safer not to go someplace alone.” “That’s right,” nodded Fiddlesticks, trying not to smirk at the sudden scowl that appeared on Fruit Crunch’s face. Cleansweep clearly saw it too, because she fluttered around in front of him, hanging in the air. “C’mon, Cruncy. There’s no reason we all can’t go do whatever it is, right?” Fruit Crunch let out a sigh of irritation. “Whatever. Fine. I’ll let you losers tag along too. Maybe this’ll show you just what real fun is like.” Without another word, he turned and stalked off, leaving the others to catch up. Fiddlesticks shot Cleansweep a glare, causing the other filly to give a helpless shrug before she flew after Fruit Crunch. Straightlace and Feathercap followed a moment later. Frowning, Fiddlesticks wavered for a moment, her worry for her friend warring with her desire not to be around that awful colt. Even if they were childhood friends, that didn’t excuse the way that Cleansweep seemed to forget herself when Fruit Crunch was around, getting caught up in whatever he happened to be doing at the time. Oh, she’d say something…if she was prompted. But even then it tended to be half-hearted, as though she couldn’t bring herself to object too much to what the large colt was doing. Worse, the stallion had a habit of hanging around “Dust Bunny,” as he insisted on calling her, coming around every day or two as he felt like it. Fiddlesticks had finally asked Cleansweep where the name had come from, and the filly had refused to say at first before eventually confessing. Apparently, she and Fruit Crunch had gone to the same kindergarten, where Cleansweep had gained a reputation for somehow managing to get into the dirtiest spots around, causing her to be covered in dust bunnies by the end of each day regardless of what the teachers did. “And that turned into my name, at least for Crunchy,” Cleansweep had explained. That didn’t surprise Fiddlesticks at all, considering how much he liked to use awful nicknames for everyone else. It was enough to make her want nothing to do with the mean colt, but Cleansweep was one of the best friends she’d made since coming to the camp. She couldn’t just give up on her to get away from one awful pony, especially if it meant letting that pony influence her more. Picking up Tiddlywinks, Fiddlesticks gave him a quick pat on the back to get him to spit out the plants he’d eaten before she plunked him on her back and trotted after the others. “Now, you guys stay quiet,” instructed Fruit Crunch as they made their way toward the river. “Just leave all the talking to me, got it?” After a few seconds of glancing at each other, the group gave a soft chorus of yesses, causing Fruit Crunch to smile, making his way toward where a pair of ponies were drinking their fill. “Excuse me,” he called, his voice suddenly having become very polite. “Excuse me, Miss Keen.” Fiddlesticks frowned at that name, feeling like it was vaguely familiar from somewhere. It was only when one of the two ponies at the river’s edge – a yellow and orange earth mare – turned around that she recognized her. She was there when Lex cursed that one pony who tried to kill him! Immediately, Fiddlesticks’ eyes slid toward the other pony by the water, a chill going down her spine as she realized he could only be one person. He was the mirror opposite of his companion in terms of coloration, his yellow coat matching her mane and tail, while his orange hair was the same hue as her coat. Peachy Keen and Spit Polish.