‘There will be beatings,’ Handy swore, turning over in the cot set up in the shed out back from the inn itself. ‘Savage, savage beatings.’ The ponies had taken the place by storm and there was hardly a goddamn blade of grass that didn’t have dancing hooves upon it. The cider and beer ran like water. Handy had initially wondered how in the hellWelcome was able to service them all—he had some bartending experience, not that he was going to let any of the ponies know about that in case he got roped in. That was until Joachim burst open the door to let him know the gospel of yeast. ‘Handy! Handy, you’re missing it! The other pony innkeepers are coming over with wagons of stuff! Bars, bars everywhere!’ Handy groaned, having thrown a trowel at Joachim to get him to leave.