[Child of the 7th Age]

Hawthorne had just come back from the fishing hole carrying a handsome string of perch and trout that she intended to give to Ruby and Buttercup as a peace offering. But before she could make her way round to the kitchen, she was startled to see a number of ponies who had escaped from their pen, now milling about the grounds of the Inn. Quickening her step to find out exactly what was happening, she was appalled to observe that several of the animals were standing in the midst of the gardens along the front of the Dragon, making a dainty meal out of the choicest blossoms. Her eyes widened further as she caught a glimpse of her precious garden at the rear of the Inn with a fat brown pony standing knee deep in the middle of the row, a half-eaten leaf of lettuce hanging out both sides of his mouth.

What knucklehead had let the animals out? Hawthorne looked on in abject horror and vowed to have her revenge. For the past two weeks, she had devoted countless hours to weeding and nurturing the flowers and cultivating her little plot of vegetables and herbs. Now the fences had been kicked down, and many of the lovely plants trampled into the ground. This was supposed to be her surprise for Cook, a little present so that she wouldn't be quite so angry for the damage that the kitchen had suffered.

Fighting back tears, Hawthorne frantically motioned to Harold and Alwin, and any of the other guests who happened to be walking by, begging them to help her round up the animals so that the damage to the gardens could be minimized. She ran towards the rear of the Inn, waving her arms in the air and trying to herd the animals back in the direction of their pen. Al the while she was grumpily reflecting....Why can't anything I do ever come out right?