My Little Pony

‘You were the reason he went back in,’ he snapped, then reigned himself back in. ‘Sorry. Look, we’re nearly there. It’s nearly all over.’

‘Okay,’ said Daisy, a little worried.

* * *

The two crows circling high in the air were keeping their eyes on several things at once.

The first was the other crow, the second, the ground and several things on it. This meant their eyes were bobbing up and down like yo-yos.

‘Cawwwk,’ screeched one. My head hurts.

‘Cawwwwk,’ screeched the other. Mine too. Do we have to keep doing this? Surely there’s an easier way than this?

To the uneducated, the sound of birdsong can be either melodic, or — especially at 5am just before the alarm is about to go off — bloody annoying.

However, the subtleties of birdsong, are lost to the average cloth-eared human.

Which is fairly typical, because, like all creatures that against the odds end up at the top of the food-chain, they think they’re the only things that matter and that everything else is either annoying or dinner and sometimes both.

Take the Indian Mynah bird: small bizarrely annoying, but like Indians everywhere, rather smarter than they let you believe. Sure, they’ve got some bizarre habits: running across roads rather than flying away when faced with giant mechanical monstrosities that feed on the sludge created from millions of corpses for one. This habit renders many as sad reminders to the perils of evolution.

Still, Rome wasn’t Christian’d in a day.

The crows, continued their conversation thus:

‘Cawk,’ screeched the first. Maybe we can work-out where they’re going.

‘CawkCawkCawk.’ screeched the second. We know where they’re going you idiot. That’s  a police-horse. He’ll be taking her to see the new king.

The first crow clacked his beak twice, the avian equivalent of a self-effacing tut-tut.

‘Cawwkkk,’ he conceded. Course he is. You’re right. Silly me.

‘Cawkk Cawk,’ said the second crow with a slightly sarcastic tone. For a brother you can be pretty thick.

‘CawkCawkkkkcaw,’ responded the first.

His response was unprintable, and not just because it was terribly biological. Crow humour is odd.

* * *

The last couple of kilometers passed almost without incident. There was a frightening moment when they thought they were in trouble, but Panix had Jimmy in hot pursuit and so didn’t have time to stop for a chat and a latté.

The castle loomed up before them. Around it was a tall wall with mean-looking gates and even meaner-looking guards beside them. A white picket fence and clip-lock gate just wouldn’t have cut it.

‘What do you want?’ asked a guard in a suspicious tone. ‘We’re not due for a tour party today.’

‘Officer Nine-four-five,’ said Marcus. ‘I’m bringing the lady to see the King.’

‘Um,’ said Daisy, unsure. ‘Panix wanted to bring me here too.’