That Distant Shore
By Alaborn
Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.
Every year, on this date, I swam to the highest spire of Atlantis and looked to the distant shore.
I rose before dawn, as always. Few seaponies swam the currents at this time of night, and those that did paid no attention to a young stallion like me. It was as if the hour demanded anonymity, and we were happy to oblige.
My tail traced the flow of the main current until I met an intersection. From there, I swam up. Soon, I passed the highest seapony building, but the twin fins on my back still felt that other seapony construction, the broad currents that pulled warmth from the vent on the ocean floor and let it flow over the seaponies of Atlantis. I swam higher, and the warmth slowly dissipated, replaced by the natural chill of the ocean water.
Finally, I reached the top of the spire, an ancient monolith of rock worn smooth by time. I wrapped my tail around it and gazed into the darkness. It was still before dawn; not the slightest hint of light from the sun above filtered through the water. I waited for that to change.
Light touched the ocean behind me, to the east, and my eyes welcomed it. From east to west, light spread, brightening the water. I watched until the water at the very edge of my vision glittered faintly. Dawn had now arrived for the landponies. At that distant shore stood a great city, Fillydelphia, and beyond that, an entire nation of landponies.
And somewhere in that vast land was my mother.
I had always known I was different. Finback seaponies are rare, and are normally seaponies with some landpony heritage. And my rounded ears and coat color, with a hint of gold like sand, made that obvious to the casual observer. When I first asked why I didn’t have a mother like the other seaponies, my father corrected me. I did have a mother, but she was gone, returned to the surface. And then he told me about her.
He had seen her, an obvious visitor from the surface transformed into a finback seapony, in the library of the University of Atlantis. My father, a historian, was immediately curious about the strange visitor. She rebuffed him, saying she worked alone. But later, he spotted some suspicious seaponies slipping away from campus. Retracing their wake, he found the mare in a shuttered campus building, locked in a room that was slowly filling with silt. The door was melted shut, and the window sealed with stone.
That room, barely bigger than a closet, was my father’s first “office” as a graduate student. And so he knew about the hidden door that connected it to the hallways once used by the building’s cleaners.
One saved, the mare muttered something about being off her game in this form, and begrudgingly admitted she could use the help.
He learned she was seeking an ancient golden idol, a symbol to mark the unity between the landponies of Equestria and the horses of Saddle Arabia, lost at sea centuries ago. But its value was not only in its material, or its historical significance. In the wrong hooves, it could be the focus for a ritual, driving the landponies and horses apart and filling their hearts with hatred.
And wouldn’t you know it? Her greatest adversary was also seeking this idol.
His story was quite the adventure. An ancient temple buried under the silt, a hidden cult of seaponies, and a guardian with the head of a shark and lobster pincers at the end of his forelegs. But for my father, the story was always focused on this mare, my mother.
He told me all about what attracted him to her. A brilliant mind. A way with words. And an unquenchable desire for adventure. And he would always cherish the memories, and the greatest treasure she gifted him—me.
My own cutie mark symbolized exploration, my own desire for adventure. But I wasn’t interested in charting distant waterways or traversing trade routes to faraway cities. I found myself looking to the shore, where land and sea met.
Just as they met in me.
“Welcome home, son. And happy birthday.” My father swam up and embraced me.
“Thanks, Dad.”
My eyes were drawn, as they always were, to the mosaic on the wall, a portrait of my mother. It was crafted by my father while he was carrying me, from his memories of my mother. Colored bits of stone, coral, and shell combined to shape the image of a finback seapony with a golden coat and mane of different shades of silver, in distinct stripes as landponies normally have.
And her eyes. Those brilliant rose eyes. One look would captivate you.
My father draped his foreleg over me and gazed at the portrait. “I still regret never seeing her true form,” he said. “I’m sure she was beautiful.”
“Do you think she dreams about me?” It was a question I had asked many times before.
“She was gone before I learned I was pregnant, and landponies may not even remember that, under the sea, stallions bear the foals,” my father said. “But the harmony of this world reaches both land and sea. Have faith, my son.”
“I want to find her,” I said. Again, it’s something I’ve said many times before. But not being a narwhal seapony, there’s no way I could hold my transformation to landpony form for long enough to go beyond the coast.
“I agree. You’re twenty years old now, and it’s clear your destiny will take you beyond the ocean.” My father presented a box to me.
I opened it, revealing a flawless red gem. Even without touching it, I could feel its warmth, its energy, its life. A heartstone. A very rare creation, it was a self-regenerating source of magical energy, and the only thing I knew of that would let me hold landpony form and travel the surface.
“How did you get this, Dad?” I said.
“Red-Crest, Lord of Atlantis, offered me a boon as thanks for helping your mother unearth and defeat the Cult of the Bottomless Maw. And now I’ve collected on it.”
“I... I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Father.”
“You will always have a home here, should you realize your heart belongs in Atlantis,” my father said. “But if not, all I ask is that you write, and visit. Do not forget your friends and family.”
“I never could,” I said.
Preparations kept me in Atlantis for another month. I visited friends and family, gathered supplies, and sold a few possessions I wouldn’t be able to use on the surface. Finally, the day of my departure arrived.
The morning was one last celebration, a going-away party for me. I said my final goodbyes, gathered my meager belongings in a kelp mesh pack, and swam for that distant shore.
I knew what to expect about the journey, having talked to many seaponies who visited the surface. They were traders, artisans, even a colt who lived on the surface when his mother was ambassador to the landponies. The route was clearly marked by glowing yellow stones, though I could also make the journey by using my natural direction sense and feeling the currents in my fins. And after forty minutes, I felt myself swimming upward. The water brightened as the sun’s light was filtered less and less by the depths.
Soon, I could see the surface of the water, the dry space above me. I felt the alien currents, the water moved by the tides rather than seapony magic. Energy filled me, excitement and a bit of apprehension, as I swam for the surface. The distance between the sandy seafloor and the surface above shrank, until it was the length of a seapony’s tail.
I breached the surface, sinking my forehooves into the wet sand and pulling my tail out of the water. I concentrated, envisioning the shape of a landpony. The magic flowed from me into my heartstone, where it was amplified, before flowing back into my body. My tail felt warm as its muscles cramped and convulsed, and then these muscles pulled, moving in a way they couldn’t naturally move. I felt the split, followed by my tailfins growing and thickening. The fins on my back grew, and I felt a strange tickling sensation.
My tail finished taking the form of a landpony’s hind legs, and for the first time, I stood, with four hooves, on that distant shore.
Two more changes happened. Hairs like those of my mane grew around my new landpony tail, and my back fins finished growing. The muscles of my back and barrel, which offered a limited control over my back fins as I swam, now felt more powerful. And I was picking up feeling from my back fins. It was like feeling the currents of water, except I was now feeling the currents of air.
I looked back and saw wings. My landpony form was a pegasus! Was my mother a pegasus? I wondered that as I tried moving my wings. I felt the magic of my new form flow through my wings, just enough to lift me into the air. I lost control, and landed face first on the soft sand.
I got up and brushed the wet sand off my coat. I noticed I was getting a few looks from the landponies on the beach, but I brushed them off, too.
I had a world to explore.
I had only two things planned for the day. First, I needed to visit a bank, to exchange my clams for the metal bits the landponies used for currency. Second, I needed to find my host, an earth pony named Far Trader. His company traded both with the seaponies of Atlantis and with landponies across Equestria, and he offered me a job, one that would help me explore the land and hopefully find my mother.
I found a bank not far from the shore, where I met a unicorn mare whose cutie mark had a bit, a clam, and what I guessed were three other kinds of money. She exchanged my clams and welcomed me to Fillydelphia with a smile, and even gave me directions to Far Trader’s company.
I now had bits in my pouch, an afternoon free, and a whole city to explore.
I saw vendors selling all sorts of strange foods, foods I had only ever heard about. Landponies ate grains and fruits and sweets, and they didn’t eat fish. The seaponies I talked to said that the diet could take some time to get used to.
I saw buildings, tall buildings, all in square and rectangle shapes. In Atlantis, only the lord’s palace was built like that. Most seapony buildings were natural, shaped from the ocean floor with our magic.
I saw carriages, lots of them! Single landponies pulled carriages that sat two, and teams of landponies pulled larger carriages.
And the landponies! It’s one thing to hear that Fillydelphia has fifty times the population of Atlantis. It’s another thing entirely to see it.
I couldn’t help but gawk like the out of place visitor I was.
I swam, or rather walked, through the throng of landponies, heading in the general direction of my destination, but sometimes veering off to look at something that caught my interest. There were so many creations that the landponies take for granted, but which can’t exist in my underwater world. These were things I only learned about in school, and I was determined to see them all.
I turned a corner and saw a truly magnificent building. Two stories high, of tan stone, it was set in the middle of a sculpted landpony park on the bank of the river. There were grassy fields and sculpted bushes, stone walkways and decorative bridges, and even a canal! A sculpture, made of some metal with a brownish cast, showed one of each of the landpony tribes, together in harmony. But something about the sculpture made these landponies look old-fashioned.
And then I saw why. A sign out front identified the building as the Fillydelphia Museum of History. A banner hanging from the building announced an exhibit called the Treasures of Tenochtitlan.
It looked to be a popular place. There was a large crowd of landponies outside the building, but curiously, none of them were heading inside. I approached, but an earth pony wearing a blue outfit interposed himself.
“All citizens are ordered to stay back,” he said.
I noticed a number of other landponies with the same blue outfit. They looked familiar. Uniforms of some kind?
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Some dangerous criminals are inside the building. They have hostages. Step back.”
Policeponies. Now I remember!
I skirted the edge of the crowd, fascinated by the mystery of what was happening in the building. I thought back to the tales my father told. Were they after somepony inside? Or was it a distraction, to steal an ancient artifact?
My question was answered as two windows shattered, and an earth pony jumped out of each window. Each carried a golden idol. The brazen plan surprised the policeponies, and they stumbled before squads set off in pursuit. With all three kinds of landponies in the squad, I guessed the thieves were outmatched, and would soon be caught
It may have been a play out of desperation, but I had my doubts. I thought about the classic maneuver in a game of aquaball, where two or more seaponies on one team surround the ball, and then break from the scrum. In the confusion, you can’t tell who has the ball. And then there’s the double feint, where two seaponies swim away, but it’s the third heading in another direction who has control of the ball.
I looked back to the museum. A third earth pony was escaping, climbing out a side window. He had opened the window normally, rather than breaking it, meaning his escape hadn’t attracted the same attention as the others. That’s the one with the ball, I thought. He landed in the bushes and started running.
I don’t know why, but I ran toward this third thief. He was easy to spot, running across the field, but soon he’d reach the edge of the museum property, and disappear into the crowded streets. He ran along the stone paths, which meant one thing.
He needed to cross the canal.
I jumped into the canal, willing myself to return to my natural form. The transformation occurred with much greater speed, and by the time my rear legs hit the water, they were almost completely reformed into my tail. I swam beneath the surface, getting my bearings in this artificial channel. My scales felt strange in the freshwater environment. The narrow width and lack of currents made me feel claustrophobic. And most distressing was the state of the canal. The landponies clearly didn’t tend to the canal. Its water plants were uncultivated, and the bed was fraught with peril. I had to swim around rocks and refuse.
I lifted my head above the surface. The thief was heading to the bridge over the canal. I only had one chance to make this work. I dove again, and prepared to surface under the bridge.
With a powerful stroke of my tail, I jumped, hooking my forelegs around a metal support bar underneath the bridge. I could feel the vibrations from the hooffalls on the bridge’s surface, and they were growing stronger.
I only had one chance to make this work.
It was a move I had done many times in a game of aquaball, the powerful overhead kick to drive the ball to one’s teammate. I rocked, swinging my tail back and forth to build up momentum, and finally swung up. My tail connected soundly with the pony running across the bridge. I heard him swear, and I caught a glint from something metallic falling over the other edge of the bridge.
Success!
I swam to retrieve the purloined object. As my forelegs cradled it, I felt vibrations in the water, and saw a large shadow overhead.
Ponyfeathers!
I recalled that, in general, most ponies don’t like swimming. I certainly didn’t see any sign that this pony was most ponies. He was large, much larger than me, and aided by his jump into the water, he was closing in on me fast. I swam away, but soon realized he was catching up with me. The strong muscles in his four legs propelled him through the water at a surprising speed.
I realized I would have to rely on my own talents. Even though I was in unfamiliar waters, I had lived my life under the sea. I could navigate perilous waters better than this landpony.
Up ahead, I spotted my target. In a patch of water plants rested a tangle of ropes or netting. It was just refuse before, but now it would serve a use. I twisted my body and swam towards it. My foe matched my move.
Just before I reached the plants, I slapped my tail on the bed of the canal, stirring up a cloud of silt behind me. It didn’t slow my pursuer, but it would hopefully make it harder for him to see. I swam, grabbed the mess of netting, and lifted it behind me.
The earth pony chasing me swam right into it, his limbs becoming entangled. I jetted off, and after clearing some distance, spared a glance back. He was still trapped, the netting appearing to be snagged on the bed of the canal.
I swam to the surface, waving to attract the attention of the policeponies. “He’s over there,” I said, pointing. “Make sure he doesn’t drown.”
I finally got a look at the idol I rescued. It was composed of gold and gems, old and weathered with the passage of time. Its shape resembled a winged snake. I didn’t have time to ponder the significance of the idol, as one of the policeponies took it from me and secured it. Two others, a pegasus and a unicorn, rescued the thief from the water. As they slapped manacles around his legs, I felt him glaring at me.
The next couple of hours were a blur. I was thanked by the museum staff and questioned by everypony. I must have told my story about arriving in Fillydelphia, coming to the museum, and rescuing the stolen idol a dozen times. Finally, I was able to leave, though the police told me to stay around town for a few days.
Celestia’s sun cast long shadows by the time I made it to Far Trader’s home. The earth pony stallion opened the door as I approached. “Where have you been, Green-Fin?” he asked me. “I was expecting you hours ago.”
“You won’t believe the day I had,” I said. And once again, I recounted my eventful day.
Far Trader laughed. “Sounds like you picked a heck of a day to come to Fillydelphia. Now come along. I have some soup and bread left over from dinner.”
My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since morning. A nice meal sounded good.
We chatted as I ate. Bread was just... weird. It tasted very good, but its texture was unlike anything I had eaten. The soup was savory, with flavors familiar and unfamiliar.
All in all, it was nice to enjoy a normal part of landpony life.
After dinner, Far Trader introduced me to another landpony concept, washing dishes. When most of your meals are cooked wrapped in edible seaweed, there’s not much to clean up afterward. It was a simple enough task to master.
I heard a knock on the door. Far Trader wrinkled his muzzle; it looked like visitors arriving late in the evening was unusual here, too. He opened the door.
I saw a pegasus mare, wearing a flat cap and some kind of bland uniform. “Delivery for Green-Fin,” she announced.
“Huh?” I said. “Uh, that’s me.” But who in the world would be sending me a package?
She held the package under her wing, with a sheet of paper on a thin board in her mouth. I stared at her in confusion.
“You need to sign for the package,” Far Trader said.
“Oh.” Attached to the board was a pen. I took it in my mouth and signed my name on the paper. In my world, paper is woven from seaweed and inscribed with phosphorescent ink, and is too valuable to waste on something like recording deliveries.
Once I signed, she passed me the package, also wrapped in paper. It was about the size of a decorative stone, though not as heavy. Another, thinner package, of folded paper, was attached to it. An envelope, I recalled. I opened it, reading the letter inside.
“What is it?” Far Trader asked.
“It’s an invitation for a book signing tomorrow. Somepony named A. K. Yearling,” I said.
“Wow. Lucky!”
“Why? Who is that?”
“A very popular author of an adventure series about a pegasus named Daring Do,” he explained. “I haven’t read them, but I heard about the book signing. I recall it sold out in the first hour.”
“Oh. But why did I get one?”
“Maybe the answer’s in that book,” Far Trader said. “I’ll finish up in the kitchen, Green-Fin. Your room is down that hall, first door on the right.”
I nodded and headed to my room. It looked exactly what I thought a landpony bedroom would look like. I sat on the bed, being surprised at how bouncy it was. But exploring my room could wait. I unwrapped the package, finding that it held a book, like Far Trader suggested.
Daring Do and the Sunken Treasure of Atlantis, by A. K. Yearling.
The mare on the cover had my mother’s coat, my mother’s mane, and my mother’s eyes. Was this Daring Do? She was illustrated not as a pegasus, but as a finback seapony, swimming alongside a seapony stallion. That stallion shared my father’s mane, coat, and scale colors, though he was illustrated with a muscular build and a ruggedly handsome face that, admittedly, neither he nor I possessed.
I settled on the bed and started reading. The book started with a prologue, describing the voyage of the ship Sea Star and its loss with all hooves during a terrible storm. Then came Daring Do chasing a cloaked pony through the alleys of Manehattan, the recovery of a stolen book, and the discovery of a hidden letter discussing the fate of the Idol of the Distant Tribes.
I skipped ahead in the book, and Daring Do, now in Atlantis, was following up on something she had overheard two narwhal seaponies say, about some ancient scrolls being kept locked away in a closed campus building. I mentally screamed at Daring Do not to go, knowing what was about to happen. But she slipped into the small office. The door slammed shut, and the two narwhals who had trailed her laughed as they melted the door in its frame. Then she heard a click, and silt started filling the room.
Daring Do struggled, trying every trick in her arsenal. She tried to force open the door using part of an old chair. She tried to dislodge the stones blocking the window. Still, the silt rose, and the water was forced out through a narrow crack in the window. As the end neared, she was reduced to beating on the window with her tail.
And then the silt level started falling, and a stallion reached in, pulling her to safety.
“Are you sure you don’t need some assistance?” the stallion said.
Daring Do shook her tail, trying to dislodge the silt that got everywhere, sticking in between the scales of her seapony tail. “Only until I’m back on my game. But I do thank you for the assist, Doctor....”
“Sunken Treasure, Professor of History.”
Sunken Treasure?
Far Trader hadn’t planned on me starting to work right away, figuring I would need some time to acclimate to life on the surface. So it wasn’t an issue for me to go to the book signing. I helped out a little, sorting some recently arrived shipments for his next trip to Canterlot, but that left enough time to finish the book. The story was largely familiar to me, though certain scenes read as more intense than my father’s stories. They were probably embellished, then, but it made for entertaining reading.
I departed for the book signing that afternoon, even though it wasn’t until that evening. I had an address on the invitation, but in this unfamiliar landpony city, I needed to ask for directions. Fortunately, the landponies were a friendly lot.
I reached my destination, a building with a sign showing a book, a landpony bookstore. We speak and write the same language, but landponies don’t realize how paper makes the act of writing so much easier. I walked over to the window of this store, where dozens of books were displayed. All of them showed this same Daring Do character.
I stared at each of these “Daring Do” books in turn. Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone. Daring Do and the Griffon’s Goblet. Daring Do and the Riddle of the Sphinx. Daring Do and the Legend of the Lost Art.
Was this really my mother? How did the author know her? I had so many questions. Unfortunately, in my eagerness to get here, I arrived early, so I would have to wait to ask them.
I headed inside and picked up another of the Daring Do books to pass the time. Soon, I was engrossed in another one of Daring Do’s adventures through thick jungles and ancient ruins.
I then realized I was being watched. At first I panicked, thinking of that earth pony thief from the previous day, but the landpony watching me wasn’t threatening. She was an older mare, largely concealed beneath a shawl, hat, and cloak. But then I saw her eyes. “Dar—?”
She raised a hoof and shushed me. “Are you the pony who rescued the Idol of Quetzalcoatl yesterday?”
I nodded. “My name is Green-Fin.” I looked in her rose eyes again. “My father is Dr. Long-Tail of the University of Atlantis.”
She grabbed me and pulled me to the door. “Let’s talk.”
The mare led me down the street, stopping at the next building with someplace to sit. A bitter, foreign aroma greeted me as I entered the building. She spoke to a stallion behind the counter. We sat down, and soon cups and a pot of some liquid were brought to our table.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Tea. Is this your first time?”
“This is my first trip to the surface, so there are a lot of things that will be my first time,” I said.
“Tea might take getting used to, but it’s easier than tasting fish rolls for the first time,” she said. “You know, that name, Long-Tail. I’ve only said it to one pony, my editor. And he insisted I use a pony name. For accessibility, or some twaddle like that.”
“Then you are A. K. Yearling?”
“Who do you think I am, Green-Fin?”
I replied with the name my father spoke with great reverence. “Compass Rose.”
She was quiet for a moment. “In the world of archaeology, I am known as Daring Do, intrepid adventurer. In the literary world, I am known as A. K. Yearling, spinner of many a rollicking tale of adventure. But both are pseudonyms, and there are few that ever earned the right to know me by the name Compass Rose,” she said. “Tell me, Green-Fin, how old are you?”
“I turned twenty a month ago,” I said. “My father has never stopped thinking of you, and is eternally grateful for the gift of life you gave him.”
She nodded. “That about settles it. Do you know what my cutie mark represents?”
True to her name, she had a compass rose upon her flank. “A talent for discovering the unknown?” I said.
“In a way. A compass is used to determine one’s direction. And for me, it has always pulled me in some direction, toward the next adventure, the next ruin, the next buried treasure. But over the last twenty years, whenever I visited Fillydelphia, I felt a pull, back to the water. I made inquiries, trying to learn what hidden treasure might be found there, but never heard anything. I never thought it could have another meaning.
“Yesterday, when I learned that the Fillydelphia Museum of History had been attacked, and that the target was the Idol of Quetzalcoatl, the same idol I rescued twenty-five years ago, well... it brought back a lot of memories. Do you know about my first run-in with the idol?”
“No,” I said.
“A slightly more dramatic account of it was in The Lost Temple of Tenochtitlan. It was five years before that. I was still an archaeology student, on my first dig, and it was my first major discovery. It was also my first run-in with Dr. Caballeron, and my first experience with losing a treasure to a rival. Back then, Dr. Caballeron was just a thief for hire, somepony employed by rich fools with a desire to have something nopony else would have. It took me five years of chasing rumors to recover the idol and put it in a museum, where it belongs.
“But now, seeing that it was targeted by Brute Force, lead henchpony for Dr. Ram, I suspect somepony has discovered a magical use for the idol. And that means trouble.
“It’s a good thing you were there, and that you acted to stop Brute Force, Green-Fin. I wouldn’t trust the policeponies of Fillydelphia to find the idol in time.”
“And that’s why you wanted to meet me?” I asked.
“I was intrigued, for certain. But I sent you the invitation only when I realized that my internal compass was no longer pulling me to the water. I finally understood what it was telling me.”
“My father always said we would be connected by the power of harmony.”
She laughed. “Some power. I must be the only mare in the world who didn’t know she has a foal. Come here.”
I approached, and I embraced my mother.
Compass Rose looked at my cutie mark. “I recognize that. It means travel, wanderlust, adventure, right?”
“That is one meaning,” I said. Seapony cutie marks are more symbolic than landpony ones; I was a bit surprised she learned about them. “I earned my cutie mark on my birthday, many years ago, as I looked to the distant shore, toward Fillydelphia, Equestria, and the landpony civilization. So I think of my cutie mark as reading ‘across distant shores’.”
“You’ve crossed that shore, and there’s a whole world open to you, Green-Fin. Or, if you ever want to use a pony name, I think Distant Shores fits you well.”
“I always thought my adventure would be finding you,” I said. I looked at my cutie mark. “But maybe it’s a grander adventure? Like stopping Dr. Ram?”
“Someday, maybe. You’re wet behind the ears, and not because you just came from the ocean. You need to study before you’re anything but a danger to yourself. You need to find yourself. But I will say one thing. There are a lot of treasures still trapped underwater.”
I smiled at that, but realized the weight of her words. “You’re right. I couldn’t even find the bookstore without help. I’m not ready for that kind of adventure. Unless... we were to adventure, together?”
Compass Rose pulled back her shawl, revealing her mane. It was exactly as my father had described it, multiple bands of silver. But in each, many of the strands of hair had changed to a different kind of silver, the mark of old age.
“I’ve hung up my jacket and pith helmet. I’m done with the crashes, the broken wings. It’s no longer my place to explore ancient ruins where everything is decayed but the traps,” she said. “You can find your own adventure, Green-Fin, but it will be yours alone. Or not alone. Saying ‘I work alone’ was my biggest mistake, one I kept making for years.”
“I won’t be alone to start. I have a job. A trading company.”
She nodded. “A good place to start. Learn the surface. Make friends, contacts. In time, you’ll see if your cutie mark is pulling you to adventure, the same way it did for me. And from one explorer to another? I suggest you avoid the adventures with villains and henchponies. It gets old.”
I nodded and sipped my bitter tea. Compass Rose pulled a pen and card from the pocket of her cloak, and wrote something on the card before passing it to me.
“If you need advice, please write. And if your adventures ever bring you to Vanhoover, look me up.” She rose. “I’m afraid I need to get ready for my little meet and greet. It was a great pleasure to meet you, Green-Fin. And please let your father know that I’ve never forgotten our time together, either.”
“I will. And I will tell him your natural form is as beautiful as he imagined.”
Author's Note
Much expanded from the submission for the write-off contest.
This story builds on the seapony culture I created for Heritage, though I switched up the mechanics of pony-seapony relationships.
