Wind rushed through palm trees overhead as warm sunlight filtered through the fronds, the tide lapped at golden sands, and the salt tang of sea air was everywhere. A grey and white pony, lay in the dappled shade, eyes closed, chin resting on crossed forelegs, and completely relaxed. This was his paradise.
He had been laying thus for quite some time now. Immobile, save for the rise and fall of his sides with every breath. A stray hermit crab scooted slowly across the beach in front of the slumbering equine. Encountering the barrier of an outstretched forelimb, it reached up, seeking a claw hold to climb up and over. It found one, in the soft, tender flesh of the pony's left nostril.
With a sudden snort and jerk of his head, the stallion found himself wide awake, nose throbbing painfully. The offending crustacean had been catapulted back in the direction from whence he'd come, landing on the sand with a slight thump, curled tightly inside his protective shell.
The grey stallion looked up at the sun with a slight sigh, mournful of the ruined nap. Rising without further complaint, he gathered a saddle bag from where it had been leaning against the palm tree, and began to tread the path home.
Arriving at a simple bungalow, the stallion pushed past the bug netting, draped across the open doorway, stepping into a cozy sitting room. Sparsely furnished, a small sofa stood flanked by two end tables, accompanied by one chair and coffee table. A few pictures dot the wall, and plain green curtains are opened wide to allow the flow of the island air through the house.
"Thread Mare, I'm home," he called towards a door in the back of the room. Dropping the saddle bag inside the doorway, he made his way towards the kitchen. A slight pop under the hoof and an accompanying crunch interrupting his ambulation.
"Hello sweetie... what was that noise?" A voice returns his greeting from the next room. Gingerly lifting his hoof, he inspects the source of the noise.
"Top Spin is leaving his toys out again," he picked up the broken pieces of a hoof carved Griffon figurine, frowning slightly. The shadow of a mare filled the door in front of him.
"Well you are my Fixer Upper, aren't you?" she smiled coyly, "So fix it."
A soft smile tugs at Fixer's own lips and he set the pieces on the end table next to him. Stepping towards her, he grips the mare around the waist, pulling her in close.
"That may be my name, but that doesn't mean I want to be chasing our son around, cleaning up his messes and fixing his problems day in and day out," he kissed her gently on the forehead before releasing her. He'd fix the figurine for sure, as he had so many others, but he was still going to have a talk with that foal.
"What's for dinner?" He asked, sniffing the air curiously.
"Steamed crab," she answered, checking the pot on the stove.
This brought a smile to the stallion's face, "Good."
Thread Mare spied his change in countenance.
"What's got you so giddy?" She chuckled softly, soft eyes looking her beloved up and down.
"Simply a sore topic," he rubbed his nose painfully. "Don't worry about it. Where is that foal of yours anyhow?"
"Myfoal?" Her laughter rang about the kitchen like a bell as she turned towards him, "I believe you had a part in his arrival as well."
"If you insist," he said dismissively. Making a short trip to the sitting room, he retrieves the broken figure and a small chest of tools before returning to the kitchen. Settling down at the table, he opens the chest and places the pieces of the toy before him. An assortment of brushes, paints, adhesives, and fine carving tools fill the box. He selects a few and sets to work on the figure.
"He's out running about, looking for adventure," she looks pointedly at the stallion, "just like you usually do."
"It's a small island, he'll be alright," the broken Griffon was proving to be a greater challenge than Fixer Upper had expected. A wing had broken off at its shoulder and he picked at the stub, fruitlessly trying to unseat it.
"It's not that I think he'll get in danger," Thread Mare turned back to the stove and began to prepare a few other items for the meal, "it's that I'm worried about the trouble he'll cause others. You know how he thinks himself a great adventurer, and how his fantasies get a little.... out of hoof."
"I'll talk to him about it if that's what you want," Fixer at last managed to extract the wing stub from the main body and it pattered softly on the tabletop.
"I was hoping," Thread Mare stirred the pot slowly, unsure of how her husband would react, "That you would perhaps start taking him with you on your own outings." Fixer put down the tools in his hooves and leaned back.
"I suppose he is about that age," he said pensively, "And it will keep you from worrying, then I suppose I can take him with me tomorrow. I was planning on inspecting the ruins at the cove tomorrow, and a second pair of eyes might be helpful."
"Oh good," Thread Mare sighed in relief, "you two need a little more bonding time as it is." The stallion returned to his work on the unfortunate toy, and the mare devoted her attention to the meal, at peace in each other's company.