Sharers' Day

Chapters

1. Scheming Fillies
2. For Our Favorite Changelings
3. Doodle's First Sharers' Day
4. In the Garden I Found Love

1. Scheming Fillies

Most villagers in Respite knew her for her laughter and boundless energy, that infectious smile that never seemed to leave her pretty magenta face. Or perhaps the way her tricolored curls bounced with each flip, spin, or cartwheel as she zipped around and played with her adoptive sister, Nimble.

A frustrated frown was anything but the norm for Toola Roola. Her ears were splayed back against her mane as she trotted through town square, her saddlebags thumping against her sides with each step. A few of her fellow villagers, pony and changeling alike, stopped to bid her good morning, then turned to ask if there was something the matter, all without fail.

“Are you and Nimble having a fight, Toola dear?”

“Trouble in school? Is my Abacus being too strict again?”

“You’re not feeling ill are you, Toola? I can make a fresh batch of pancakes if you’d like. Once I get back from waking Alto up, I can get right on it.”

Maple brought the smallest of smiles to her lips for a couple seconds. It was difficult to stay angry when everyone’s favorite pancake scarfing baker was around. He was just so darned adorable. And kind to boot.

She paused just long enough to shake her head. “No thanks, Maple. I already ate breakfast this morning.”

“Oh.” The chubby baker’s ears pinned back against his copper mane. Maple nervously tongued his fangs. “Is there anything I can do to help? I-I can make muffins, if you’d prefer those.”

Again, Toola shook her head. “There’s nothing you can really do. It’s something I need to take care of.” She stole a quick glance around town square, searching for any sign of a flash of polished black carapace and sugar pink mane tied in a long braid, or a certain nymph’s bouncy tail. There was none, but for how long? She would have to move quickly lest Esalen catch her. Dropping her voice, she leaned in close to the Enchanter turned baker and whispered, “I’m having a little trouble finding my last gift.”

Maple’s ears perked up suddenly, his eyes went wide. “But Sharers’ Day is three days away!”

“Yes, I know. I’ve got most of my gifts, but the last one is giving me …” she trailed off, biting her lip as she struggled to find the right way to explain it. “I’m completely blanking on what to get.”

“Who’s it for? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”

Toola took another quick look around. It wasn’t necessarily that Esalen would come looking to spoil the surprise, but there wasn’t a nymph in Respite who wasn’t a fan of sneaking up on a friend and pouncing upon them before pulling them into a tight hug. Or, in her case, tickles. Lots and lots of tickles. Of course, if she was disguised, Toola would have no way to know.

Need to get out of town square before she does. “Esalen,” she said, her voice low.

Blinking, Maple tilted his head. “Wouldn’t she just like a book on massage therapy? That’s going to be her trade, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m willing to bet a full meal’s worth of love against one of your aunt’s cakes she’ll get at least one from someone else.”

“Ah! I see. You want something special for her.” A knowing gleam shone in his eyes. “So where are you off to, then?”

Toola turned to look up the path leading toward the outskirts of the village, toward where the twins’ home lay, just a short walk from that of the funny little filly who moved in a few months prior and caught the aforementioned bookbug’s eye. “Sure Stroke’s house,” she replied after a moment. “I’m hoping she might have some ideas.”

Maple beamed. “Oh, well we can walk together! Alto was supposed to be up by now so he could come eat breakfast with me, but it seems he’s slept in again.” For a fraction of a second, barely visible to those who hadn’t lived around changelings for most of their lives, his amber eyes flashed green. The corners of his mouth tugged into a grin that betrayed his glee. “So I’m going to wake him up and pester him as he deserves!”

Despite her dour mood, Toola had to giggle—finally! A familiar hint of joy in her. “Well, let’s get moving then. I’d like to hurry and get this taken care of.”

With a nod and merry buzz of his wings, Maple joined her in walking down the dirt path toward Sure Stroke’s home, each with their personal goals in the forefront of their young minds.

It was Sure Stroke herself who opened the door to her family’s home. Her deep blue eyes widened a fraction when she first looked upon the pair, then a smile spread across her face. She looked skyward and muttered a quick thanks to Celestia under her breath, before turning her attention to Maple. “Looking for Alto?” she asked with a knowing roll of her eyes.

“Is he awake?” Maple asked in reply, the eagerness in his voice betrayed by a rolling chitter and swish of his tail.

“If he is, then he’s taken up gargling marbles.” The young artist stepped to the side and beckoned him in with a flick of her wing. “He’s all yours.”

Again, his eyes flashed green. “Oh, yes he is,” he muttered ominously as he slipped inside and sped down the hall toward the slumbering pegasus’s room in absolute silence, as only a changeling could.

Sure Stroke turned her gaze upon Toola and heaved a sigh of relief. “I was just about to go looking for you or Vector or someone!” she said, waving her inside. “Come in, quick, before Aspire or Esalen see you and decide to start snooping. I swear, I’m going to whack the pair of them over the head so hard their brains will rattle for leaving me in the dark for so long!”

Her tone was enough to make Toola snort as she entered. “What did they do this time? Not tell you about Sharers’ Day?” she asked, more out of teasing than any intent to slight.

“Barely anything,” Sure Stroke replied darkly. She kicked the door shut with a bit more force than was necessary, which made the pictures hanging on the wall shake precariously before balancing once more. Huffing a breath through her nose, she shook her head and motioned for Toola to follow her down the same hallway Maple had dashed and invited her into her room. “I swear, those two are just trying to wind me up so they can tease me for not getting them gifts!” she snapped, flaring her wings.

Toola frowned. It wasn’t exactly out of the realm of possibility for the twins to hide things from a friend, but not for entirely selfish gain. They liked to make sure everyone got something out of the exchange. “I don’t think they would do that. Especially not with how much Aspire loves you.”

A yelp and a thump from down the hall made both fillies pause to glance at the door. Judging by the chittering laugh and muffled crooning, Maple had woken up Alto at last.

Out of the corner of her eye, Toola saw a fond smile spread across Sure Stroke’s face before she heaved another sigh. “I know,” she said softly. “I know they wouldn’t wait so long to tell me for some silly reason like that, but I specifically asked for details on how the village celebrated Sharers’ Day and they kept dodging! All the way until I said it in front of their mother!”

“Oof, how’d it go when they tried to dodge then?” Toola asked, fully knowing how the twins could never properly let go of a ruse.

“She boxed them both over the ears and made them tell me about that it was meant to be a gift exchange between friends and lovers, sort of like Hearts and Hooves Day, and a little bit about how it came to be. So now my parents and I get to scramble around like mad ponies trying to find gifts!”

Aha, there it is. Toola shook her head. She was right after all. The twins were up to their tricks again, but this time with a more traditionalist flair.

That was an easy enough fix. She could play the role of tutor to the village’s newest filly this time around.

Her troubles with finding a fitting gift for Esalen could be put on hold for that long.

She trotted over to Sure Stroke’s bed and hopped up to sit, then patted a spot next to her. “Come sit with me,” Toola said. “I’ll try to fill in the blanks they left out.”

Sure Stroke trotted over to the bed, her brow arched but her ears perked and ready to listen. With a shrug of both wings and shoulders, she hopped up to join Toola. “Okay. So … this is supposed to be a thing the Caretakers got from the crystal ponies?”

“The changelings as a whole, yes,” Toola corrected. “The way the story goes, which you’ll hear more in detail on Sharers’ Day when Queen Euphoria and Mister Breezey tell it, the changelings got a lot of help from the crystal ponies during the early days of their alliance, so they wanted to do something nice in return for the crystal ponies.”

“Right, right,” Sure Stroke said, bobbing her head. “Aspire told me that much. So from that, it became a gift exchange.”

Toola shook her head. “No, at first it was just a day where the changelings offered gifts to the crystal ponies as thanks during the winter, to commemorate the act of kindness that saved the hive. After everything fell to pieces thanks to the Dark King—”

“Which no one has told me anything about because it wasn’t in Legacy,” Sure Stroke noted testily.

“Well, no, it’s not in that story, it’s part of the series. But that’s not the point!” Gently, Toola gave her a little shoulder nudge. “The Caretakers stuck most rigidly to what they learned from the crystal ponies, which meant they also did their best to make sure any future donors knew how much they appreciated their kindness. Sharers’ Day was Queen Serenitatem’s idea. A specific day in which changelings would offer gifts to the ponies for that express purpose, and the ponies would understand why.”

Her pegasus friend hummed, furrowing her brows in thought. “That explains part of it,” she began, “but that’s specific to the Caretakers giving gifts. Ponies were just supposed to expect to receive them and … what? That’s it?”

Toola Roola bobbed her head, giggling at the look of utmost perplexion on Sure Stroke’s face. “That’s how it was meant to be. It started out that way, but, as you might guess, we ponies don’t always follow the plan our Caretaker friends lay out.” She waggled her ears. “Really, you could say this was the first time ponies in the village turned one of their games on them and dug their hooves in.”

“So, a way to sort of put forth a challenge by … insisting they give something as well?”

“Exactly. Willow Wisp, the leader of a group of settlers from a nearby village that eventually joined up with Respite after a fever outbreak, was adamant that ponies owed just as much to the Caretakers for allowing them to stay in the village and enjoy protection as new members of the hive. Sort of a reverse of the changelings’ arrival in the Crystal Empire, if you think about it.”

Sure Stroke brought a hoof to her chin, her brows furrowing in deep thought. She hummed to herself, fluffing and rustling her feathers as she considered the point. “I suppose that does make sense, when you put it like that,” she said after a few moments. The smile returned to her face. “Thank you for explaining that. I feel a little better knowing what this is all supposed to be for.” There was a beat of silence between them, then those soft violet ears twitched as if catching a word spoken in passing. She cocked her head to one side. “Come to think of it, Toola, what are you here for? Maple knows the way well enough, so you weren’t just leading him here …”

A sheepish laugh escaped her lips. Toola gave her tail a little flick as she ran a hoof through her mane, her smile turned a hint lopsided. “Well … funny you should ask.”

The pegasus said nothing. She merely arched a brow in silent prompting.

Toola fought down another laugh. Sometimes she forgot just how intense everyone’s favorite Doodle could be when she wanted answers.

All those wing smacks upside the back of Aspire’s head certainly hinted at such.

“I’m having a bit of trouble finding a gift for the last nymph on my list,” Toola admitted. “This one is … rather special to me. She’s sweet, she’s fun to be around, and the way she smiles and chitters when she’s happy or laughing is just … she’s gorgeous.”

“I see.” A slow smile began to spread across Sure Stroke’s face. Those deep blue eyes flashed with a knowing gleam. “And does this nymph have a name? Or do I have to guess?”

Toola Roola ducked her head. “I’m not that obvious,” she protested weakly.

“It’s Esalen.”

A low whine sounded in the back of her throat. “You could have pretended to think!”

Sure Stroke scoffed and trailed a feather up Toola’s side, drawing a squeak and sudden fit of giggles. “Aspire and I noticed it ages ago, giggle box. I’m pretty sure any nymph who’s been within tasting distance has noticed, including Essy herself.”

Toola felt heat bloom across her face, her cheeks tinged rosy red. “R-Really?” she squeaked. “If—If it’s that obvious, then why hasn’t she …”

“Esalen is …” Sure Stroke tilted her head to the opposite side, frowning in thought. “She’s very coy about things. She seems to internalize a lot, but I’ve noticed her eyes lingering on you for a while. And flicking her tongue a lot.” If she noticed the way her words made Toola flush deeper with each passing second, the pegasus paid it no mind, instead simply pressing on. “I don’t know. Essy is sort of contrary—she’s so much like the other nymphs, especially Aspire, but she’s very different.”

“That doesn’t help at all!” Toola moaned.

Sure Stroke just shrugged. “That’s all I can say. Aspire and I are pretty sure she feels the same, and we both know how powerful his taste is.”

True, Toola did know just how able Aspire’s tastebuds could be. If he’d been telling Sure Stroke about how much love he tasted from everyone’s favorite bouncy gymnast, it would be no small chance he’d checked to see if his sister felt the same.

But asking Aspire so close to Sharers’ Day and making sure to lead him away from Esalen would almost certainly give her away. And when Esalen wanted answers …

Well, there was only one villager who loved Toola’s laugh as much as her adoptive sister. It just so happened to be the same nymph she’d been pining after.

“I want to tell her,” Toola muttered. “On Sharers’ Day. It’s sort of the big day for romantic things like proposals, picnics, and the like, so it’s not exactly unique, but it’s special. In its own way.”

Sure Stroke laid down on her side and propped her head up on her hoof. “So you want something special for her, right?” At Toola’s nod, she continued, “I suppose this is a bad time to point out that I, and probably a few others, are going to get her books on massage techniques.”

Toola’s smile was as brittle as fine china. “I was trying to avoid massage books for that exact reason.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to rub it in.”

“I know. Just … frustrating, you know?” Despite her mood, Toola laughed. She laughed and shook her head. “I want to tell her how I feel, but I can’t think of something to give her to go along with it! Of all the Sharers’ Days I’ve had since being adopted, this one, right? The one I decide I’m going to finally say something would be the one I draw a big blank on.”

Sure Stroke tapped her free hoof against the mattress, chewing on the inside of her cheek. After a few seconds, she bobbed her head from side to side. “Well,” she said slowly, “we were going to run to Manehattan, just Mom and me, I mean. Dad’s got to stay to keep an eye on the weather with the stormy season starting up. And I guess it sorta doesn’t look as conspicuous if it’s just Mom and me, so maybe they won’t prod?”

The hint of uncertain hope in Sure Stroke’s last line brought a wry smile to Toola’s face. “You’d better hide it well, then, because if any of the Caretakers see it or taste any hint of something that’d give it away …”

She left the last bit unsaid. It was all she needed to say to draw a shudder from the pegasus. “Right,” Sure Stroke said. “I’ll just quickly hide it away. That’ll work.” Almost as soon as she finished, she sat up straight and clapped her hooves together. “I’ve got it!”

Toola raised her brows. “Got what? An idea for gifts?”

“No, I’ve got a way to help you out!” Grinning, Sure Stroke hopped off the bed and tugged Toola along.

“Hey! I’m all ears, but don’t jerk my legs off!”

“Come with us!” Sure Stroke replied, giving her wings a happy flutter. “We’re going to shop in Manehattan and there’s a million stores! You might find something you want to buy her if you go look with us!”

Toola thought as she allowed herself to be tugged off the bed and onto the floor, landing nimbly on her hooves. Truth be told, it could very well work. Maybe a change of scenery and actually looking things over might spark something.

It just might be what she needed.

Slowly, a smile began to spread across her face, a bounce began from the tips of her hooves, to her knees, until a bubbly giggle built up in her chest and escaped her lips as she allowed herself to give in to merriment. Quick as a flash, she leapt sideways and cartwheeled around Sure Stroke, landing on her hind hooves and sweeping her friend into a hug.

“I’m in!” she chirped between titters.

2. For Our Favorite Changelings

Sure Stroke fluffed her feathers as she and Toola stepped onto the platform at Manehattan Station, her heart hammered in her chest. With a bright smile, she bounded a couple steps forward and bounced in place, laughing merrily.

“Golly! You’re starting to act like me, Doodle!” Toola Roola tittered before prancing over to bounce a circle around the eager pegasus. She stopped, leaning in close as a teasing smirk played upon her lips. “Or is somepony excited to find a little gift for a certain smug boyfriend of hers? Hmmm?”

Rather than blush and stammer or try to fumble through some excuse, Sure Stroke swished her tail. A few months ago, Toola would’ve had her redder than a ripe Red Gala. Today, however, she simply turned and returned her friend’s smirk. “Says the little gigglebox,” she drawled, “who came to me all tied in knots because she couldn’t find a present suitable for her favorite cheeky filly.”

Toola’s smile faltered, in its place, a sudden pressing together of her lips and a streak of rosy red across her snout, which she quickly turned away to hide. “Shut up,” she squeaked in reply.

“How very eloquent. And rude. Maybe we can have Esalen sort that out with a nice—” She stopped short when Toola fixed her with a heated glare that promised later retribution. Point to me, she thought with a flutter of her wings. “Hug.”

Before Toola could make another comment, Skydancer stepped onto the platform, smiling as she shook her head at the pair. “Behave, you two,” she scolded without a hint of heat in her tone. “Sure Stroke, you and I have plenty of shopping as it is, and Toola still needs to find her gift for Esalen. Standing around here teasing one another over a boyfriend and a crush isn’t going to help things along.”

The fillies ducked their heads, Sure Stroke felt the onset of a blush creep across her face. No matter how she might have grown used to her fellow villagers’ penchant for playing and constant teasing, her mother could always slip one comment through to render her a mess. Rustling her feathers, she and Toola mumbled their assent.

With a smile and happy fluff of sunny yellow feathers, Skydancer waved them on, guiding them through the throng of excited tourists, returning Manehatannites, station workers, and Royal Guards, out into the midmorning sun and bustling streets of Manehattan proper.

Sure Stroke turned to share a grin with Toola Roola. The fillies let out excited squeals, bounding forth through the streets with Skydancer in close pursuit, eager to find suitable gifts for their friends. Their friends, of course, deserved nothing less than the best. Gifts straight from the heart.

I wonder, she mused, if they can taste the love that goes into each gift.

Yet another question to be answered, perhaps one she could write into her book once she began working with Regale.

Gift finding had gone relatively smoothly, all things considered. Given the time they were working with, Sure Stroke felt she and her mother both had done a fair job of locating appropriately-thoughtful gifts for each of their friends.

Her ocean-blue eyes flitted to her mother’s saddlebags. She went through her mental list while the trio walked through Canter Square. She managed to find a set of rather nice dance horseshoes for Nimble, which would do wonders to protect her ankles from getting strained with all the spinning and jumping that went into her dances; for Vector, she decided on a nice set of training weights she’d seen some of the Wonderbolts use at her old summer camps; Zephyr was a bit trickier, as she didn’t know him quite as well as the others. He was friendly enough, but also somewhat standoffish. Still, a friend who deserved a good present. After some serious thought, and Toola Roola’s invaluable input, the trio journeyed to a small bookstore and found a book about the daring adventures of Penbrook Pines, an earth pony explorer, and his trusty diamond dog sidekick, Howler.

Not a series Sure Stroke had read before, but the salespony had sworn it was all the rage with the foals their age.

Once that was finished and Skydancer had procured gifts for Faith, Warm Welcome, and all of Cool Breeze and Queen Euphoria’s entourage, it was time to get down to the toughest nymphs to buy for: the terrible twins.

“I don’t understand for the life of me why you didn’t just find Aspire one of those Donnchad MacCulkin books while we were in the bookstore,” Toola commented as she skipped down the sidewalk alongside Sure Stroke. “The new release was there. He’d have just about jumped and kissed every inch of your face if you’d gone with that.”

Sure Stroke rolled her eyes, then cast a meaningful look at the bags her mother was carrying. “You mean the same book you went and bought for Esalen?”

Toola waggled her ears. “Yup!” she chirped, quite pleased with her selection. She glanced down at the bit pouch around her neck and gave it a quick shape, beaming at the telltale clinking of metal. “And I’ve still got enough to buy something to go along with it!”

That gave Sure Stroke pause. Truth be told, Toola had been positively giddy to see the book out. Why, if she’d known any better, she would have sworn her bouncy friend had been part bat pony with how loudly she squealed. Both pegasi had to pin their ears back to avoid a rather painful ringing. But for all that griping and huffing about not knowing what to get Esalen, Toola Roola had been rather quick to make her choice.

And now she wants another gift to go along with it? Curious, Sure Stroke tilted her head. “Do you not think the book will be enough?” she asked. A note of concern crept into her tone. “She does like the series as much as Aspire, doesn’t she?”

“Oh, pretty much all the foals our age adore it. Especially the Cold Queen.” Toola stopped skipping long enough to glance up at the skyscrapers, her lips pursed in thought as she seemed to struggle for the right wording. “Essy just … she adores the series, but not quite the level Aspire does. You know what I mean?”

Sure Stroke snorted. “Toola, if it weren’t for how he looked at me, I’d swear that colt would date his books if he could.”

Her mother nearly stumbled a step. “Sure Stroke!” she scolded through a fit of giggles. “Don’t say that about your boyfriend!”

“He just might!”

“Oh, I doubt that, honey.” Skydancer’s eyes shone with mirth. “From what Faith tells me, you’re like sunshine on a rainy day to him. At the very least—” she cast a wink at her daughter “—he might try to date you along with those books of his.”

Groaning, Sure Stroke covered her face with her wings. “Mooooom!” she whined.

“If you’re going to make a joke about his love for books, then you’d best be ready to deal with any teasing that comes with it.” Her mother swished her fiery orange and red tail, turning her gaze down the path ahead. “Where two next, girls? I don’t mean to rush, but it’s getting into the afternoon, and we all still need to eat. And be back at the station by six.”

Sure Stroke looked up at the great clock at the center of Canter Square, flicking a wing when she saw the time. Two-fifteen. Not too late, but definitely cutting things close if they wanted to eat and shop.

Letting out a low groan, the young pegasus turned to fix Toola with a worried look. “Do you have some idea of what else you’d like for Esalen?”

Her friend scuffed a hoof against the pavement. “I … sorta do?” Toola stammered. “I mean, I have the book and …” Her ears pinned, she ducked her head low and mumbled, “You said you were going to get her a book on massage techniques, right?”

“Yeah, there’s supposed to be a place in the area that has some stuff for massage therapy,” Sure Stroke replied with a nod. Turning to her mother, she asked, “If we take a break to eat now, do you think we’ll still have time to go there and then pick up my present for Aspire?”

Skydancer hummed. “We should,” she said slowly. “Depending on where it was you wanted to go.”

Beaming, Sure Stroke fluffed her feathers. “Well, I know a place nearby where we could eat. We can look out for the massage therapy place on the way.”

“True enough.” Her mother smiled. “Where do you propose we eat, then?”

Sure Stroke turned and waggled her ears at Toola. “How do you feel about that pizza place we all ate at when we went to Coneigh Island?”

Magenta ears perked up. “Cecci’s?” Toola squeaked.

“That’s the one.”

The broad grin that spread slowly across her friend’s pretty magenta face all but sealed the deal. Pizza it was.

Skydancer led the fillies across the street, keeping both under wing as was typical of pegasus mothers. They headed down Sixth Avenue, toward the direction of Cecci’s. As they approached a crowd of tourists gawking at the sights and snapping more pictures than a throng of reporters during a royal visit, Sure Stroke felt her mother’s embrace tighten, all but pressing her and Toola against her sides while they pushed through.

Once they escaped and managed to catch Toola before she was knocked out of Skydancer’s feathery embrace by a particularly obnoxious mare, they were able to move along at a relatively brisk trot and search the plethora of shops on the way to Cecci’s Pizzeria.

It was Toola Roola who spotted it first. She darted to the very edge of the sidewalk and bouncing in place. “There!” she cried, prancing in place as she pointed across the street. Her lips were curved into a wide, toothy grin. “Doodle, look! There’s a massage clinic and supply store, just like you said!”

True to her word, there, nestled in a little shopping strip between Meadow Song’s Flower Shop and Knick Knack’s Toy and Hobby Shop, was a little tiny store with a blue door and an almost homey feel. Rather than the traditional wide display windows featured in big city stores across the land, whoever owned this one chose to go with small, oval shaped windows with an ocean blue trim that went quite fetchingly with the sea-green storefront. Above the door, a sign reading Ocean Breeze Massage Therapy Clinic and Supply.

Sure Stroke fluffed her feathers. Perfect. Turning, she aimed a grin at her mother and hurried to Toola’s side. The fillies galloped across the street, ignoring Skydancer’s demand that they stop and wait for her lest they get run over by a taxi cart.

They entered the shop, the tinkling of shop bells made Sure Stroke’s ears twitch. Her eyes darted about the shop, taking in as much as she could in one go. Wooden shells lined the wall behind a service counter on the right side, filled with books, jars of ointments, salves, and massage oils, as well as what appeared to be some strange foam cylinders.

What a massage therapist would want with such a thing, Sure Stroke didn’t know. Her attention was drawn toward the books lining the shelf. There were about twenty in total, each of varying thickness. The question, though, was which would be best for Esalen.

At her side, Toola Roola was all but prancing on the tips of her hooves. She darted over to the counter with an excited squeal. Her tail wagged like an eager puppy, she reared up to place her hooves on the counter and gape up at the selection with wonder. Sure Stroke could almost see the wheels in her head turning, churning out all the happy dreams in which Esalen opened different gifts with a happy chitter and answered her confession not with words, but a deep kiss.

The familiar feeling of her mother’s wing clipping her ears made Sure Stroke yelp and clap her hooves over her head. She sat back on her rump, ears pinned, looking up at her mother with her most pitiful pout.

“Don’t you give me those watery eyes, young filly,” Skydancer scolded, a stern frown marring her lovely face. “You know better than to cross a busy street like that!”

Sure Stroke hung her head. “Yes, mom. Sorry.”

Skydancer sighed. “Oh, stop your moping, dear. Let’s find presents for you and Toola to give Esalen.”

Almost on cue, a young mare maybe a few years older than Sure Stroke came trotting out from behind a curtain. “Welcome to Ocean Breeze’s Massage Clinic and Supply!” she greeted, a bright smile spread across her sunset purple cheeks and green eyes shining beneath a teal mane. “My name is Lavender Glow, how may I help you today?”

“My daughter and her friend were looking to buy gifts for another little friend of theirs,” Skydancer replied smoothly.

“Oh?” Lavender Glow’s eyes fell upon Sure Stroke and Toola Roola. “What sort of thing were you looking to get her? We have a full supply of therapeutic lotions, plenty of salves, really anything you’d like to help a pony relax and let stress just wash away. We’ve also got a full stock of scented candles, if she likes those,” she added, gesturing to a display table along the far wall.

Now that was an interesting thought. Sure Stroke hummed and trotted over to take a look at the selection, her eyes flitting over the labels and brows furrowing in thought. What sort of scent might Esalen enjoy? Applewood, maybe? Maple would be more of something for, well, Maple, but maybe Oak or Pine Needle, given her love for the forest.

Then she found one that made her tail swish and brought a coy smirk to her lips. Sure Stroke glanced over her shoulder at Toola, checking to make sure the filly wasn’t watching.

She wasn’t. Toola was stood on her hind hooves and grabbing Lavender Glow’s attention. “That salve there,” she said, jabbing a hoof at a rather large blue jar, the curls of her mane bouncing and shimmering in the light as she all but pranced in place. “The one that says that it helps with strained muscles and works well when rubbed in during therapy! She’ll love that!”

“Will she now? Is your friend a masseuse, or is that her special talent?” Lavender asked as she levitated the jar down to rest on the countertop.

Sure Stroke watched as Toola made to reply, but stopped short, hesitating no doubt on her choice of words. Then, she nodded, speaking slowly, “Yes. She’s very good at it, actually. A natural and she hasn’t even been trained. She helps my sister and I when we get muscle pains from dancing or gymnastics.”

A nice save, to be true. Sure Stroke stealthily scooped the candle under her wing and trotted over to wait while Toola exchanged four bits for the salve. Once Lavender Glow bagged up her selection and held it out for Toola to take in her mouth, then skip over to allow Skydancer to place it in the saddlebags along with the rest of her gifts, it was Sure Stroke’s turn to place her selection on the counter. “I’ll take this. Also, could you possibly recommend any books on massage techniques?”

Lavender’s ears perked up. “What sort would you like? We have several different types.” She stepped close to the shelf and pointed to each book in turn as she read them off, “We have books on deep tissue massages, athletic massages, nerve point therapy, Scandineighvian massages are quite popular, though they’re known by another name as well. I quite like that name, myself.”

“What is it?” Sure Stroke asked, her wings twitching. Something about the salespony’s tone told her this was the one.

“It’s a funny name, really. Pretty, though, and it goes along with the method of slow, stroking and kneading motions. Typically, it’s called a Scandineighvian massage, but in Los Pegasus it’s typically calls an Esalen massage.”

Bingo, Sure Stroke beamed, swishing her tail as she heard Toola gasp behind her. It was just too perfect to ignore. “I’d like that and this candle, please.”

After the girls finished their business at Ocean Breeze’s shop and they’d taken a quick walk over to Cecci’s to fill their bellies, the trio found their way to their final destination on their shopping excursion.

“You Do the Dishes?” Toola Roola wrinkled her snout and shot Sure Stroke a questioning look. “Why in love’s name would you come here for a present for Aspire, Doodle? We were just in a bookstore, y’know, where he’d probably live if he had the chance.”

As much as Sure Stroke wanted to fire back a quick retort at her last comment, she found herself unable. Truth be told, he just might. The rest, on the other hoof, was easy enough. “Because,” she drawled, casually trotting into the store and flicking her tail across Toola’s nose as she passed her by, “Aspire is probably going to get books by the shelf-full from everypony else, yourself included. I want to find something he’ll remember is from me because it sticks out.”

The gymnast filly tittered. “Doodle, you could show up with nothing at all except for all the love you could offer and that colt would probably do backflips.”

Now there was a visual. Aspire doing backflips like Nimble Hooves and Toola Roola. Sure Stroke smiled and shook her head, rolling her eyes before turning to look at the shelves lining the wall.

Her eyes scanned over the little porcelain and china creations, from the charming figures of animals, to the dinner plates, teapots, and cups. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, her eyes lingering more on the cups than anything else. Of all the things her silly bookbug of a boyfriend loved—her, reading, in general being a smug little punk—there was one thing all the nymphs and foals neglected. Rather shortsighted of them, in her opinion.

But it left her with a few nice options for gifts. After all, he enjoyed that overly sweetened swill most changelings passed off as “tea” well enough, and his love affair for coffee, of all things, was as plain as the smirk that so often graced his lips.

It was at that moment Fine Brush, the shops co-owner, stepped around the counter and met them with a smile. “Well, well! I think I remember your faces! Visitors to Coneigh Island if I’m not mistaken, right?” she asked, her eyes flitting down to Sure Stroke. “I definitely recall you being quite taken with our wares.”

Sure Stroke bobbed her head and dug into her mother’s saddlebag, fishing out a small business card which bore the shop’s name. “I was. You gave me your business card when I asked about the at-home decorating set.”

Fine Brush’s ears perked up. “That’s right! You asked whether or not we could ship them!” Swishing her tail, she glanced at Skydancer’s saddlebags, then back at Sure Stroke, arching a brow. “I take it you’re all out looking for gifts. Somepony’s birthday?”

“A village holiday,” Skydancer supplied. “Sort of a celebration of unity and friendship. A popular day for lovers as well, from what I’ve gathered.”

“Oh! Well, I’m glad you thought to come here again for a gift! I’d be happy to help. Why don’t you all take a look around and let me know what you’d like to decorate? Or if you’d prefer the at-home kit, depending on your schedule.”

With a nod of thanks, Sure Stroke drifted over to the shelf where all the different mugs and cups sat, awaiting her appraisal. She frowned, carefully scratching the various competitors to the proverbial crown off the list. The cups wouldn’t do for coffee or tea, since porcelain didn’t do particularly well with heat, so she could toss those out straight away. Though, truth be told, they’d been eliminated long before she stepped hoof into the shop.

What she needed for Aspire was a good mug. A good mug he could drink while being terribly smug.

I know I’m going to hate all the ways he turns this into stupid puns and wordplay, but I also know I’ll love it somewhere deep down. And his smile will be worth it all anyway. Her brows furrowed as she let her eyes sweep over the different mugs. There were some wide enough to eat soup out of, a few as tall as his snout was long, and a couple so tiny Sure Stroke could only wonder what the point of them was other than decoration.Then she saw a note about it being for a special type of coffee called café con leche and corrected herself.

At long last, she found it. Hidden amongst its brethren of different sizes, shapes, and quirky handles, was a nice, simple, plain classic mug. One just big enough to contain the steaming morning brew or to enjoy a slightly larger cup of tea when the mood hit. Easily interchangeable. And so very Aspire.

Functionality, with a bit of a quirky side.

Though the latter would be up to her to supply.

A smile crept across her face. Sure Stroke fluffed her feathers as she plucked the mug from the shelf. She knew exactly how she wanted to decorate it. Really, there was only one way a mug for Aspire deserved to be done.

But she could be a bit creative with it in her own right.

Turning to face Fine Brush again, she held up her selection. “I’ll take this, please,” she said. “And one at-home kit.”

The mare beamed. “Okay! That’s three bits for the mug, six for the full kit, which will bring the total up to nine bits.” Thinking on it a moment, she asked, “Which color paints would you like, dear? It’s included in the price, of course, but I’d like to make sure you get enough to decorate your friend’s mug however you want.”

“I’ll need two,” Sure Stroke replied. “Black, white, and forest green.”

“That’s an interesting combination. Is he a fan of … is it the Timber? The Seaddle Timber are the hoofball team, right?”

Sure Stroke shook her head. “No, he’s not really a sports fan. Green is just a color I think would suit it well. And black is for the little message I’m going to write on it.”

Fine Brush tilted her head back, an understanding gleam shone in her eyes. “Far be it from me to question inspiration. I’ll be just a moment.” She turned and hurried into the back room to gather the paints Sure Stroke needed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught matching looks of confusion and intrigue from her mother and Toola Roola. Sure Stroke shook her head and tapped a hoof to her lips. “Later,” she muttered out of the side of her mouth. “Can’t say it outside the village.”

The pair nodded, knowing better than to press on anything sensitive to that particular issue. A good thing, too, as Fine Brush came trotting out mere seconds later with a pair of small paint cups sealed with plastic lids held aloft in her magic. She pulled one of the at home kits down from the shelf and placed the paints inside, then closed it up. Skydancer then stepped forward and paid the nine bit fee and slipped the box into her saddlebags.

With their shopping done, they set off for the train station, a quick glance at the clock confirming that they were on track to make it with about ten minutes to spare.

Not bad timing, all things considered.

Sure Stroke smiled and chatted idly with Toola as she skipped along by her side. Her mind, though, was a hundred miles away, on a young nymph waiting for her in that village nestled in Neighagara Forest. She could almost picture the grin that would split his handsome face when he saw her gift.

The sun had just begun to set by the time Sure Stroke walked through the village gate. She, Skydancer, and Toola worked to separate out their packages into one another’s saddlebags long before they left the station, a decision made by the little gymnast.

“The twins and their parents are going to see you two walking home with full bags,” Toola informed them gravely, “so they’ll already be suspicious and want to try to prod it out of you. If the other Caretakers see us shuffling packages around and they hear, the next two days will be nothing but changelings trying to wheedle their presents out of you early.”

Skydancer had fixed Toola with a quizzical look. “I take it you have a lot of experience with this, given that Nimble is your sister.”

“Don’t forget my parents,” Toola reminded with a sheepish grin. “Every year around this time, I get all of the coy smiles about what my gifts will be, while they try to tease and tickle me until I crack and tell them everything.” Her eyes flashed with determination. “This year is gonna be different though. I’ve been able to slip away each time they get that look in their eyes, and I’m going to last until Sharers’ Day come Tartarus or high water!”

Both pegasi winced and offered their sympathies, then quickly set about arranging things so their gifts were placed in the appropriate bags and hidden away as best they could. Not easy, given that Skydancer’s saddlebags could only fit so much before the seams began to show their integrity being tested.

Sure Stroke and Toola parted with a hug and a quick whisper in the gymnast’s ear about what she had planned for Aspire’s gift.

True to form, Toola tittered and waggled her ears, then whispered her own promise that Sure Stroke would just adore the gift she’d picked out for her a while back. Before she could think to react, Toola backflipped out of reach and hurried her way home, bidding the pegasi pair goodbye and thanks for having her along over her shoulder as she went.

Huffing a breath through her nose, Sure Stroke rolled her eyes and turned to walk down the path home doing her best to pointedly ignore the toothy grin gracing her mother’s face.

Everyone just seemed to live to tease her.

Though not enough that Skydancer didn’t understand the urgency of Toola’s warning. As soon as they came within view of the twins’ house, she flared her wings and motioned for Sure Stroke to do the same. Mother and daughter took flight together, speeding toward their house as fast as they could in hopes that their changeling neighbors wouldn’t have time to notice the state of her saddlebags.

They made it to the front door without a sign of polished carapace or translucent wings, let along any fanged grins and glowing eyes betraying mischievous intent.

Skydancer opened the door and shooed her inside, then darted in and shut it behind them. “Okay,” she said with a relieved sigh. “Home without trouble.” With a flutter of her wings, she trotted into the kitchen and checked for any sign of Drizzly. There was none. “Your father must be finishing up with the weather team. I’ll put our gifts away so we can wrap them after dinner.”

“Wait!” Sure Stroke called, holding up a hoof. “I need to work on Aspire’s mug!”

Sunny yellow ears flicked. “Ah! Sorry, honey, I nearly forgot!” A sheepish smile spread across her face, she set the saddlebags down on the kitchen table and retrieved the You Do the Dishes At-Home kit. She then placed it at Sure Stroke’s usual spot, the seat nearest the door. “Here. I’m going to go put the rest of these away until we can all get wrapping. Oh! Do put something down before you start painting, please. I’d rather not have to clean paint drops off another table.”

Sure Stroke ducked her head to hide a crooked smile, nodding once. She trotted over to collect an old tablecloth her mother always insisted she use whenever painting at the dinner table. She folded it into a large square and set it in place, then set about opening up the decorating kit.

The kit supplied several thin brushes, no doubt for the more intricate work of writing messages or putting extra detail into scenery, along with one inch wide brush, the mug, the three small cups of paint, and a cup labeled “Glaze: Coat Your Dish Once Finished and Allow One Day to Sit.”

She sat in her seat for a moment, thinking over her design. The message was easy enough, three simple words painted in black would be displayed across the face of the cup, on the opposite side of the handle. But there had to be something else to go along with them. Something to add character to it.

Deciding what to do with the green was simple enough. Given the changelings’ love for their sticky, goopy cocoon slime and the verdant forest surrounding the village, she chose to paint the inside of the mug. A bit different than what most might do, but it would make a nice touch for when he took a sip. A little reminder each time. Once she finished that, it came time to let the paint dry. A half hour or so later, she was able to add a nice, thorough coat of white over the creamy porcelain.

After a short rest to let it dry once more, Sure Stroke was ready to put the finishing touches on Aspire’s mug. Just as her father, Drizzly, arrived and greeted both her and Skydancer with warm hugs and nuzzles.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said softly. “Warm Welcome caught me on my way up and was asking where you two had gotten to. He had that smirk on his face like he knew what we were up to and kept trying to see if there was something I wanted to tell him.” Drizzly sniffed. “Dang tongue flicking, emotion tasting trick! I thought this was supposed to be a gift exchange, not an inquisition.”

“According to Toola, the Caretakers are always like that.” Skydancer shrugged. “If I were to guess, I’d say it’s because they just think it’s fun to see what they can get their friends to spill.”

Sure Stroke pursed her lips. “Maybe,” she said slowly, “or maybe they like to see if they can get a hint so they know if what they’ve gotten us is enough.”

Her parents’ ears flicked. They paused a moment to consider the notion, slow smiles spread across their faces. “That actually would fit,” Drizzly admitted after a moment. “Warm and Faith do have a tendency to demand everything be, ah, equivalent when giving or receiving.”

“You’re thinking of when they fed and insisted we eat as much as they?” Skydancer asked.

“That and how they acted when Haberdasher was in town.”

Humming a note, Sure Stroke picked up the mug and began painting in a few oblong ovals and circles of differing shapes and sizes all over the mug. Just as random as her changeling friends could be.

Yet, at the same time, they made perfect sense to her. A wonderful contradiction.

Sure Stroke chuckled to herself as she painted her little message to Aspire across the face of the mug, then began to apply the glaze both inside and out, and quickly hid it in her parents’ room.

As she came out, satisfied with her efforts, she found herself met with matching looks of amusement and confusion from her parents. Grinning, Sure Stroke waggled her ears. “If Aspire and Esalen come over between now and Sharers’ Day, they’re pretty likely to see it if I leave it out in the kitchen. And my room is the first they’ll think I hid everything,” she explained. “But I’d bet my feathers they wouldn’t dare try to go in yours without permission.”

Skydancer snickered. “Now, that,” she said, shaking her head, “is thinking far too much like that boyfriend of yours.”

The filly shrugged her wings. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned around here, it’s that if you’re going to outwit a changeling, you have to think like one.”

3. Doodle's First Sharers' Day

When Sure Stroke had been younger, she had always been the sort of filly who grew anxious before Hearth’s Warming. She would fly around her parents’ old cloud house, prance in place, and even comb over every bit of whispy fluff in search of their little hiding spot to sneak a peek to see if she’d gotten something nice. Alto would even aid in her search.

Not until she saw how her changeling friends acted once they realized she’d made a special trip to Manehattan two days before Sharers’ Day did she truly understand her unparalleled patience. Especially when Aspire and Esalen started in.

By Celestia’s immaculate feathers, did they ever live up to the villagers’ monicker for them. She cast a quick glance around, just to be certain they weren’t sneaking up to check her saddlebags as their families walked together toward the village center. A smile threatened to spread across her face as she noticed Faith trying to distract her parents while Warm Welcome dropped behind and sidled up to Drizzly, cocking his head at an angle to try to see if he could take note of the shape of one of the packages.

One of her father’s gray-blue wings shot out quicker than Warm could dodge and clipped him right across the nose for what must have been the umpteenth time in the past couple days, if her father’s bemused side glance was any hint. Or Warm Welcome’s pouting while Faith muttered a curse.

She unfurled her wings just slightly, glancing side to side in time to catch the twins closing in on her again. They flinched away, pasting smiles that were far too toothy and innocent to be true. At first, their attempts had been subtle, much like how their father caught hers and stopped him for a lengthy chat a couple days prior. In fact, it began that very same day.

The twins came calling shortly after the pegasus family finished wrapping their gifts. Sure Stroke could do little but suppress a nervous rustling of her wings when she took note of their wicked smirks and the knowing gleam in their eyes as they began to circle her like sharks, asking how her little trip had been with an insincere nonchalance dripping from the very tongues they flicked and waggled.

Where had she gone? Did she visit anyplace special? What part of Manehattan did they spend the day in? Any shops she enjoyed particularly? Had she been back to that little pizza place with Toola? Anything that might hint which stores she might have visited, like they had a map they could consult.

Innocent enough on the surface, yes. But then Sure Stroke remembered just how much her changeling friend and boyfriend so loved to play their word games.

So much like their cousins from the Enchanter hive, a credit to their heritage through their grandfather, Beguile, no doubt.

She managed to deftly sidestep any direct answers, though. A small victory in her mind. Then they decided to get creative.

After all, they had a full day before Sharers’ Day and the ability to taste every emotion running through her. Why would they do anything but poke and prod and press every advantage. They were changelings and it was their way.

An early morning visit? Naturally, they were up almost at the crack of dawn, waiting for her. They were all too happy to sidle up and try to pull hints out of the sleep-addled filly, hoping she would slip before her brain fully awoke. Oh, was she going to draw today? Why ever would they pass up a chance to sit with their friend-slash-girlfriend, Doodle while she doodled her doodly heart away? Of course they’d be happy to sit with her in Sweet Treat’s shop and watch her practice drawing by sketching Maple and the Mint twins! They would have a wonderful time chatting while she worked.

When that didn’t work after several hours and multiple drawing locations, Aspire dropped all pretense and set about playing dirty—he caught her in a tight hug and pulled her in close, his gorgeous blue eyes shining with affection as he drew her in and kissed her deeply. She couldn’t help but melt, her temporary walls falling as she wrapped her hooves around his neck and trailed her primaries up his sides.

Right into his trap. Again and again, he would kiss her, then trail fluffy kisses and licks up her jawline so he could nuzzle her neck and ears, whispering sweet nothings all the while and promising a full day of nothing but such wonderful attention if she’d tell him. Not Esalen’s gift, mind, she was on her own. Just his.

He had to know, he claimed. He wanted to be sure he’d shown her all the love and gratitude she deserved, and he couldn’t do that if she somehow one-upped him.

Through it all, Sure Stroke stayed strong—even though it pained her to slip from his grasp and clip his ears with a wing until he promised to quit for the day if she showed mercy. And she would remain so no matter how her feathers fluffed at the mere thought of all those kisses, or the promise of a full day spent like that.

It wasn’t her fault. He cheated. Being that handsome, kissing so well, and whispering such honeyed words in her ear should be against the rules when trying to pry secrets from innocent fillies such as herself. Clearly, he hadn’t learned his lesson after a month of being tucked firmly under her wing. Perhaps he would need a reminder.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him drifting closer to her right side, his eyes wide and focused on her saddlebag. A flash of pink forked tongue lashed along his lips, no doubt tasting for suspicion. His face was split in an eager, mischievous grin.

Like father, like son, she mused as she honored the time-old tradition of clipping her boyfriend over the ears with a wing. “No peeking!” she scolded for the hundredth time.

True to form, Aspire let out a startled chitter and recoiled from her assault. “Oh, come on, Doodle!” he cried, fixing her with his most soulful, pleading gaze. A keening whine built up in his chest and mixed into his tone. “It’s not like you’re not about to give it to me anyway! I can’t even do anything to add to it now!”

That, she didn’t believe for a second. Aspire’s eyes told a completely different story—she could practically see the gears turning in his head.

Her handsome, affectionate boyfriend was scheming. In fact, he likely already had several in mind, one of which was currently in motion.

He’s the distraction. Her left wing unfurled faster than a bolt of lightning and connected with Esalen’s chitinous chin. The tips of her feathers teased the edge of her sharp fangs. “That goes for you too!”

“Crack my eggshell!” Esalen staggered a couple steps sideways, bringing a hoof up to cup her aching jaw. Her eyes narrowed, though not at Sure Stroke. “I was so close! Couldn’t you keep her occupied a second longer, you soft-shelled ninny!”

Sure Stroke rolled her eyes. And there it is. “Would you two just behave for once? By Celestia’s wings, we’re almost there already!”

As she spoke, they entered the village proper, though not with any shortage of grumbling vows of retribution and sidelong smirks and glowing eyes from the terrible twins.

Those wings smacks would cost her dearly, no doubt. Perhaps not today, but down the line.

Those long tables and benches normally put out by the lakeside for parties and hive visits were set up between the ice cream parlor and Sweet Treat’s shop, the wooden stage from the Enchanters’ visit had been set up in front of Queen Euphoria’s house. The Queen herself stood but a few steps away from her loving husband and most infamous prankster pony, Cool Breeze, whose face was split into a broad grin and feathers fluffed with no sign of attempted restraint. The rest of her entourage, however was suspiciously absent. Or so it appeared.

Sure Stroke found them standing at the forefront of a crowd of villagers—each and every one of them. But, for the first time since her move from Cloudsdale, she saw them segregated.

Every changeling, from the youngest hatchling to the adults somewhere around Regale’s age, stood before their Queen, while every pony stood before Cool Breeze. All of them faced what was, for all intents and purposes, their royal family.

Aspire crossed in front of her, playfully brushing their shoulders together. “We’ll have to continue this later, Doodle,” he teased. “After the ceremony.

Arching a brow, Sure Stroke fixed he and Esalen with a flat look. “More stuff you two have hidden from me?”

The twins waggled their ears. “We prefer to think of it more as setting you up for a nice surprise,” Esalen chimed, gently hip bumping her so not to disturb her bulging saddlebags, before turning to follow Aspire and their parents toward the crowd of changelings. “So relax and enjoy your first Sharers’ Day, silly pony. I’m sure you’ll find my gift to die for!”

The pegasus rolled her eyes again as they chittered merrily and moved to join their kin. They were being cheeky little pests, as their kind were so wont to do, but they knew how to play her like a harp better than anyone else. Even her own family, sometimes.

Ignoring the strange sense of foreboding at her friend’s choice of words, she flicked her tail and trotted over to join the gathering of ponies with her parents. If they were going to participate in Sharers’ Day properly, they might as well humor the changelings’ odd sense of humor. Once they had arrived and joined the group, she met with Toola Roola, who sported her usual smile and a hint of pride in her eyes.

“They couldn’t get it out of me,” she whispered, her voice full of glee. “Mom and dad tried every trick to make me slip and drop a hint, and Nimmy tried so hard to catch me and tickle me silly, but I got to the accorded safe spots before she could lay a hoof on me.”

Snorting, Sure Stroke made to ask what exactly their so-called safe spots were, but a hush fell over the crowd like a weight. She looked up and found Queen Euphoria readying to speak, and perked up her ears to listen. It was time to learn more about her changelings’ culture.

“Fellow villagers,” she greeted warmly, “Caretakers and ponies alike, it is once again time for us to honor the tradition passed down to us by our fallen saviors, the Sainted Ones, by way of my ancestor, Serenitatem, and Willow Wisp, founder of the former Neighagara Settlement on the northern falls, and leader of the first ponies to join our village.” Queen Euphoria paused a moment to allow a brief, respectful rumble of stomping hooves and buzzing wings. “In the years after the fall of the Sainted Ones and the fracturing of the Ancient Hive, the Caretakers searched the land for suitable settling grounds. Queen Serenitatem chose this place due to its central location in the growing eastern province and the opportunity to keep our hive safely hidden, yet accessible to those who came in search of aid. Through disguise, she and the Caretakers spread word amongst the neighboring settlements that our village would welcome those in need and treat them as guests, offering whatever aid was asked in exchange for a small price: love.

“Of course, it did not come easily. Willow Wisp, in particular, did not trust her, or any changeling, for he had grown up hearing stories of how the Ancient Hive acted before Queen Morrigan ceded the Black Crown. He refused all aid and barred our changelings from entering his village until an outbreak of terrible, crippling fever forced his hoof. Ravaged by illness, he dragged himself down the winding forest paths until the Village Guard found him and brought him before the Queen, where he offered anything in exchange for aid, only asking that any price be paid not by the villagers, but himself.”

Sure Stroke’s ears twitched. It was familiar to her. Self-sacrifice in the face of certain doom, a leader leaving those under their protection in search of aid while commanding all others rest. The dedication and will to accept the burden and consequences on their own shoulders, and none other.

Just like Queen Morrigan.

Queen Euphoria turned to yield the floor to her husband, who nodded in thanks before turning to address the crowd. “Queen Serenitatem refused payment, for he reminded her of her own ancestor, Morrigan. She and her changelings went to the Neighagara Settlement and nursed the ponies back to health. From then on, an alliance between the small villages began until the ponies slowly moved closer, then eventually joined, offering love freely. For years, they existed together as one village, Respite, and worked in harmony with one another.” He beamed and raised his voice. “On the anniversary of the settlements’ union, Queen Serenitatem and her changelings concocted this very day to offer their thanks to the ponies who shared their love. To them, it was a show of gratitude, a day which was meant to be all about those who shared willingly.” His grin grew decidedly cheeky, he glanced over at his wife and added, “But, of course, Willow couldn’t let that stand, so the ponies returned the favor a week or so later, depending on which version of the story you get.”

A wave of laughter and merry chittering swept through the crowd. From the changeling group, Sure Stroke heard Caress call out, “And yet you all still wonder why we try to one up you, you troublesome stallion!”

Even Cool Breeze snickered at that. “You may try, dear,” he replied, his eyes shining with mischief, “but Phory’s never managed it, and neither will you.”

For a split second, there was a flash of green in Queen Euphoria’s aquamarine eyes, gone before Sure Stroke could even blink. While she couldn’t see Caress, she would wager good bits hers had as well. Cool Breeze had just challenged his wife and bedmate. Again.

Whether their lover noticed or not, he paid it no mind. “Speaking of which, that reminds me of a funny story,” Cool Breeze drawled, his tone too on a rather foreboding edge. An air of anticipation hung thick over the crowd, Sure Stroke could see them all, changeling and pony alike share grins and lean forward as he cleared his throat and continued, “I think it’s about time I engaged in my personal Sharers’ Day tradition and shared the story of how my wife helped me through my fears and we fell in lo—mmph! Phiffy!”

The only thing more notable than the olive glow wreathing his snout and his wife’s horn, was the deep flush that turned her cheeks blacker than a moonless night. Queen Euphoria forced a thin smile. “We’ll be skipping that little tale this year,” she said, loud and clear for everyone. “Now, if you please, there is one last thing we must do. Changelings, ponies, turn and face one another.”

Both groups did as commanded. Changelings and ponies stared each other down as if they didn’t live in the same village and meet every day.

It was like they’d stepped back into the days of Queen Serenitatem and Willow Wisp.

“As the Queen of the Caretakers,” Queen Euphoria began, “To our pony villagers and guests, we thank you all for coming to Respite, whether for a permanent stay or a short visit. It truly is you who make our village what it is.”

There was a momentary pause, then a hesitant wince before Cool Breeze spoke up again, “As the pony representative for the Sharers’ Day festivities, we thank our friends from the Caretaker hive for welcoming us into their village with open hooves for all these years, providing us aid when asked, and offering us a home. Without you, there is no Respite.”

No prompting came. In one instant, everyone was standing to full height, their ears perked and eyes attentive. Then, all around Sure Stroke, ponies began to bow, as did their changeling counterparts. She hastened to do the same, nearly toppling over as she lowered her head until her snout was level with her knee. A pair of familiar chitters tickled her ears. Cheeks burning, she glanced up and found herself met with matching smirks from Aspire and Esalen.

She puffed out her cheeks, mouthing, “Shut up!”

They waggled their ears and replied in kind, and in perfect unison, “Not a chance!”

Sure Stroke balanced a plate laden with more food than she was sure she could eat, yet another tradition of the village’s festivities. She joined her friends, squeezing herself between the terrible twins and sidling up to her boyfriend, who turned and met her with a grin and nuzzle against her nose. Esalen, on the other hoof, gave her a quick smile before returning her attention to Toola Roola.

It took all of the pegasus’s self-control not to grin as she watched them chat. The way Toola’s eyes shone, a rosy blush blossomed across her magenta cheeks, made her just want to take to the sky and do a backflip.

But that wasn’t her place. Whether or not anything came of Toola’s crush, and Esalen’s apparent crush, was entirely up to them. Both Aspire and herself had decided quite some time ago that they wouldn’t stoop so low as to shove the pair into anything, they’d just sit back and enjoy the fallout.

Unless, of course, the opportunity presented itself. Aspire hadn’t forgotten.

He never would.

Speaking of her boyfriend, it was high time she paid him more attention.

Fluffing her feathers, Sure Stroke leaned in close, rubbing their shoulders together. Aspire turned to meet her gaze with a warm smile spread across his face, those gorgeous blue eyes were alight with utmost joy.

Again he leaned in to nuzzle their noses together. “So,” he said softly, pausing to lick her nose, “we told you it was a nice thing, didn’t we?”

“After weeks of feigning deafness and grinning at me? Yes,” she retorted as she returned the gesture in kind, then planted a soft kiss on his lips. “And that was a nice story. Why didn’t you tell me when I first asked? Or is leaving newcomers in the dark until they find out themselves part of the deal?”

Aspire simply shrugged. “Sorta? It’s not really part of the tradition, but a lot of us like to use a pony’s first Sharers’ Day to …” he trailed off, rolling a hoof through the air as if to snatch the word out of the aether. “Eh, I guess you could say it’s like the last thing before you’re a true member of the village—we treat you to a day of gratitude just like the original ponies, and you have to sit there, accept our gifts, and all our love in return.” His eyes narrowed, he spoke with such faux severity she was surprised it didn’t dribble down his chin, “Or, at least, you were supposed to do that. You obstreperous filly.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Obstrepe—what?” she asked, swishing her tail as she speared a carrot on her fork and brought it to her lips. “Did you swallow a thesaurus? More importantly, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

As soon as the words left her lips, Sure Stroke knew she’d made a mistake.

She’d fed him the perfect straight line.

Aspire leaned in close enough that his breath washed over her lips, his eyes flashing a dangerous green. “No,” he purred, slowly licking her cheek as she took a bite of carrot, grinning at the way she shuddered. “I don’t. I kiss you with this mouth, Doodle. And I plan to do that a lot once we’re all done exchanging presents. Just you wait.”

Her feathers fluffed. Sure Stroke swallowed a lump, averting her eyes to escape his and that blasted grin. He knew too well how to play her, far too well for her liking.

Yet, she did love it. She loved everything about the smug, teasing changeling nosing against her cheek, trailing fluffy kisses as he promised to make her squirm in his grasp for each wing smack, every snide comment, and, oh, would she ever get it if she dared one-up his gift.

Did she dare?

When she first moved to Respite ages ago? Heavens no. But now? After months of such affection? After all that time returning his kisses, wrapping her wings around him while they walked through the rain, and sitting in the shade of her favorite tree, yes. Yes, she did dare.

Out of the corner of her eye, she took note of his plate, stacked with fish, steamed vegetables, and several sweets he’d pilfered from the dessert table before Sweet Treat or the Mint twins could stop him from swiping extras. No doubt he planned on filling up early so they could spend all evening together once they finished exchanging gifts with the others.

Not a bad plan, all in all.

If only there weren’t an obstreper—whatever filly there to poke a hole in such a plan.

She reached over and snagged the edge of his plate, tugging it toward her. Aspire caught her by the wrist before she’d even moved it an inch, arching an amused brow in silent prompting.

Sure Stroke ducked her head. So much for playing coy. She leaned in close and spoke, putting every fiber of her efforts into keeping her lips still, “I was going to say you won’t need to eat that today.”

His brows disappeared beneath his bangs. The brilliant mind behind those sky blue eyes raced, she could almost see him working through a series of math problems to find the answer.

Slowly but surely, he worked it out. His ears stood up straight, his eyes shone with unfettered glee as he wagged his messy blue tail like an eager puppy. His wings even began to buzz as he licked his lips and grinned, then kissed her deeper than ever before. His tongue teased her lips, coaxing them open for a bare instant, so he could slip it into her mouth and tickle and tease hers until she loosed a shuddering gasp into the kiss.

A scraping of ceramic plate against wood made her ears twitch. Aspire broke the kiss and drew back a mere hair’s breadth, a chitter rolled in the back of his throat. “Eat up, Sure Stroke,” he said softly. “And thank you for the gift.”

This time it was her turn to smirk and peck his lips. “One of them,” she replied.

“One of them?” His brows disappeared once more, the grin on his face faded. “You’re going to spoil me, Doodle.”

She beamed and waggled her ears in reply. “I guess you’ll just have to accept being lavished by a pony this year, O Venerable Smugling.”

Aspire snorted. “Hush up and eat your meals, Doodle. One day I’m going to teach you to quit while you’re ahead.”

A giggle bubbled forth from her chest, but Sure Stroke did as she was told. A few more ideas were already turning about in her head to add onto feeding and his actual gift, if he thought she was ahead now, he would be a blushing, fuming, sputtering, hissing mess once he got his last.

The foals and nymphs finished their meals in short order, before they moved to put their plates away. Then it was time for gifts.

Oh did that ever start a rush to make sure they found a good spot to set up the exchange. Such places were, evidently, a premium, what with all the old friends and their families spending time together, lovers necking and taking walks through the village and nearer forest paths—Sure Stroke was quite certain she caught Alto wandering toward the lake with Maple and a rather full picnic basket—and taking one another aside to ask the all-important question, and, of course, husbands and wives huddled together in warm embraces. She even saw her parents standing alongside Aspire and Esalen’s and Queen Euphoria’s entourage, with the Queen herself offering a colorfully wrapped box to the pair. Respite was, in her opinion, more saccharine than a barrel full of pure sugar.

The Caretakers probably loved it.

Once they had secured their table once more, it was decided that they would pass out presents to one another, then break to go give to those who either weren’t with them or, in Sure Stroke and Aspire’s case (and, unsaid, Esalen and Toola’s) a chance to spend a little time together as a couple in a more private setting.

Presents were then exchanged. It was to Sure Stroke’s great relief that everyone seemed to love her selections, Zephyr all but cracked her ribs while he chittered out his thanks for his book, while Nimble was a bit more subdued. A warm embrace, soft nuzzle, and playful promise to let her off the hook for tickles for a month were her way. Vector was thrilled enough with his new flight weights to put them right on and fly a quick circle overhead, wowing them all with his strength and speed while Esalen and Toola unwrapped theirs.

“When did you get this, Doodle?” Toola asked, leveling her with a playfully suspicious look. “I was with you all day when we shopped in Manehattan.”

Sure Stroke returned a smirk so smug she could hear Aspire hum in approval. “I had mom distract you while I was picking out dancing shoes for Nim, you silly thing. Didn’t you notice me slip away?”

Magenta ears perked up as her mint blue eyes widened. Toola shredded the wrapping with vigor, then tossed the top away, nearly clipping her sister with the corner. A squeal built up in her chest and reverberated about in the back of her throat. A grin split her face, she pulled a folded pink yoga mat from within the box and flipped right over the table, landing behind the laughing pegasus and sweeping her into a hug as she nuzzled into the crook of her neck. Whatever thank she gave was lost in the high-pitched, rapid-fire babble that spilled from her lips into Sure Stroke’s ears.

Aspire chittered and grinned. “Hey! You keep holding her like that, I’ll think you’re trying to steal her, Toola. Get your own Doodle!”

Ceasing her nuzzling for a moment, Toola Roola blew a raspberry and made to fire off a retort. But Esalen’s voice cut across them.

“Actually,” she purred, her coy smirk spreading into a wide, toothy grin. Her sugar pink eyes danced and glittered like jewels in the sunlight as she slowly, reverently lifted her gifts out of the box and displayed the title: Esalen Massage Therapy: How a Gentle Touch Can Make a World of Difference and the scented candle Sure Stroke had snuck while Toola wasn’t looking—the scent of vanilla and lilac.

It took every ounce of her self-control not to smile at the way Toola gasped and turn away to hide a blush. She watched Esalen lean in to take a deep sniff, her pink eyes fluttering shut to savor it a moment. When they opened again, they flitted toward the little gymnast for but an instant.

More than enough.

I knew it.

Esalen placed them down on the table and leveled Sure Stroke with a half-lidded stare as she pulled her into an embrace and nuzzled her nose. “I would say you’ve got more to worry about me stealing her, oh lovable pest of a brother of mine.” Then she heaved a sigh of feigned disappointment and planted an affectionate lick on Sure Stroke’s cheek. “If not for the fact that you two look adorable together, smitten with one another, and my eyes being elsewhere.”

Behind them, Sure Stroke heard Toola draw in a breath, but she didn’t call attention to it. Instead, she returned Esalen’s hug and nuzzle. “I’m glad you like it. I figured you might get a lot of massage stuff today, but this might be something you can use for your trade when you start working toward it.”

“Definitely.” Another nuzzle came in return, along with her familiar coy smirk. “And I got something I think you and Aspire will just adore,” she crooned, her tone as sweet as honey straight from a beehive.

Sure Stroke felt a shiver run to the tips of her pinions. There was something about that tone, the smirk she so often wore seemed to take an extra edge. Whatever Esalen had planned for her, she was certain of one thing: it was going to make a scene.

Her friends were sparked into action by Esalen’s claim. Presents were shoved her way by eager hooves. From Toola and Nimble there were three new sketchpads and a set of pencils, from Vector a large box of coloring pencils and charcoal, and Zephyr had bought her a nice set of brushes and paints.

“How did you know I’d been missing painting?” she asked, fixing the lounging nymph with a skeptical look.

Zephyr snorted and gave a lazy smile. “I sorta guessed based on your cutie mark. The whole paint brush being there is a bit of a hint.”

Though her cheeks colored at his comment, she managed to keep from ducking her head. “Well … thank you! Really, but … it’s sort of hard to paint without an easel and canvas.”

“Oh, is it?” he asked, his tone dripping with false innocence. “Imagine that.”

Imagine that her cutie mark. If he wasn’t up to something, she’d pluck her own feathers. Before she could make move to press the issue, Esalen slid a thin rectangular package before her, the tag upon it bearing both her name and Aspire’s.

Her eyes narrowed. Slowly, she turned to glance at Aspire, who fixed her with a wide-eyed look and shook his head. Both turned to face a grinning, buzzing Esalen.

“Go on, lovebirds,” she teased. “One of you open it.”

Hesitation made her feathers bristle. Without taking her eyes off of Esalen, Sure Stroke took the package in hoof and began to cautiously tear and remove the wrapping paper. All the while watching the corners of her friend’s mouth twitch, those sugar pink eyes dazzling with delight. Once it had all been cleared away, she turned her gaze to the package and removed the lid.

A slender purple and blue book bound by black metal rings faced up at her. A photo album, judging by the texture of the pages poking out from within.

That it bore the title Memories of a Doodling Pegasus and a Smugling Teacher was another hint.

Curious, she opened it to the first page. Immediately, she felt the burn return to her cheeks and spread to her neck, her shoulders, even to the tips of her ears. Her feathers fluffed as she gaped down at several pictures of herself and Aspire seated by the lake, her head on his shoulder while he nuzzled into her mane. Then another of them reading together. Then one of her leaning in …

And, of course, the kiss.

“Esalen!” Aspire hissed, his eyes flashing green. He leapt to his hooves and bared his fangs.

Chittering madly, Esalen slipped off the bench and grabbed Toola Roola, sticking her serpentine tongue out at them as she bounded out of his reach. “It wasn’t to slight you!” she called back, the grin still on her face even as she backpedalled. “I could have spread it around town, but those are just meant for you two and our little group. Mostly you, though.”

Sure Stroke could hear Aspire grind his teeth. “You,” he said slowly, “are going to pay for that someday. The gift it nice, but sneaking up on our first date? You’re going to pay.”

To her credit, Esalen nodded once. “Fair enough. Until then—” she wrapped Toola in a one-legged hug, sharing a grin with the bouncy gymnast “—I have business with this one and her present. Happy Sharers’ Day, everyone!”

The others laughed and chittered at her antics, waving the pair goodbye while Aspire and Sure Stroke huddled together and fixed her with matching looks that spoke both of aggravation and a hint of fondness for the meddlesome nymph as she walked away, swishing her fluffy pink tail, with Toola close by her side.

“Well,” Aspire mumbled, his cheeks still flushed black, “now that my busybody sister has got her laughs in, why don’t we head out?”

Sure Stroke turned to tilt her head at him. “Did you not bring mine along?”

He shook his head, collecting the photo album without looking back. “Too big to carry,” he replied. “Besides, I kinda like the idea of keeping you all to myself the rest of the day.”

Her tail swished. Now that, she liked the sound of.

She rose with him, smirking as she fluttered her eyelashes and fluffed her feathers. “But who said it would be you keeping me, smugling?”

“I did,” he replied with his usual smirk. “I do. So there.”

“You still don’t know what my gifts are. What makes you think you’re in charge?”

Aspire raised a solemn hoof, then pressed it against her nose. “Wait and see, Doodle. Wait and see.”

Their hooves thudded a steady cadence against the familiar wooden porch way leading up to the front door, Aspire tugged it open with a smile and stood to the side, waving her in like a proper gentlecolt. Or was it gentlebug? They had never quite figured that out. It hadn’t come up since their little hide and seek incident in the forest.

Either way, Sure Stroke nuzzled his nose in thanks as she passed him by, then waited for him to enter and shut the door behind them. Her gaze swept over the family’s sitting room—a rather small think with two small, gelatinous slime pod seats, a wooden table, and a larger pod shaped into an oblong oval, which served as the couch. An odd take on traditional furniture, but, having grown accustomed to the village … it was a passable replacement for cloud cushions. But only just. “So,” she mused, “am I supposed to go sit on a pod and wait with my eyes closed while you bring my gift out?” She waggled her ears. “Or are you going to make me look as payback for making you try to coax yours out of me early?”

Aspire paused a moment and tilted his head, humming to himself as he smiled and seemed to consider the prospect. “It would be fun to watch,” he admitted, “if I’d planned it out so you had to go looking, but no, that wasn’t the idea. First, though, there’s something I need to share with you. Wait here a minute.” He ducked into the kitchen, Sure Stroke’s ears twitched as she listened to him rummaging around and muttering curses while he struggled to find whatever it was he was looking for.

After a couple minutes, he returned with a piece of paper folded into thirds held in hoof. A small smile played upon his lip. “A mutual friend of ours sends his regards.”

Sure Stroke’s ears perked up. “Enticier?”

“Yeah. He’s looking forward to his visit. But he also wanted something else.”

Her smile slowly faded into a frown. “He’s not trying to push you and me to visit again, is he?”

Aspire shook his head. “Nope. He’s sticking to his deal, Doodle.” He held it out to her, gesturing to it with a nod. “Take a look. You’ll see what I meant by how good a friend he can be when he’s not constantly flirting.”

Her curiosity piqued, Sure Stroke accepted the slip of paper, unfolding it with a quick flick of her wrist. Her eyes scanned over the words, eager to see what the formerly flirtatious prince had to say.

Dear Aspire and Sure Stroke,

I hope I’m not being too presumptuous with such a beginning, but we did agree to remain friends. If I am mistaken in addressing you both so informally, I do apologize for the error and will correct it the next time I write. If the two of you are still okay with it, that is.

Things have been well in Paradise since my visit. I’ve been doing quite a bit of thinking since our discussions, especially with you, Sure Stroke. I won’t pretend it wasn’t … jarring to hear your reply that last night I spent in Respite, but it served to wake me up enough to see things from another point of view. A valuable lesson, I think, which has led me to consider alternative means to ensuring ponies’ stays in our resorts yield happy guests, even without our charms.

I hope you two are well and wish you both the best in your continued relationship. Have a wonderful Sharers’ Day, and please do write to let me know how things are. Hopefully sometime in the near future, I’ll be able to escape my new duties assisting my parents so I can visit again, though they might not allow that without at least one or two guards chaperoning my trip—you know how parents can be. Though I am leery of those blasted, tangly nets … I am willing to attempt fishing. Just don’t laugh if I’m bad.

If Aspire is grinning, please smack him for me Sure Stroke. And then resume being the adorable couple you two are. Enjoy Aspire’s gift. He told me about it a few weeks ago. I won’t pretend I’m not eager to see the—ahem—fruit it yields when I next visit. Perhaps we can establish some sort of a trade deal in exchange. I open the floor with an offer of tales of Aspire’s formative years.

Sincerely,

Prince Enticier of the Enchanter Hive

A bright smile bloomed across her face as she finished reading. “That was sweet of him,” she said, carefully folding it up. “We should send him something back in return.”

Aspire waggled his ears. “We can do that tomorrow. I can show you how we send letters to the other big hives and the changelings who live among ponies, actually. You haven’t really had the chance to see it.”

“By virtue of having never seen it, you mean.”

“Well, yes, but that’s not the point. You’ll see it tomorrow. In the meantime, follow me.” Her boyfriend beckoned her toward the hallway, swishing his tail as he trotted by and rubber shoulders with her. “ I’m sure you know the way to my room by now, Doodle.”

Always with the teasing. Sure stroke rolled her eyes, following him with a fond smile gracing her lips and his present thumping merrily against her side within the confines of her saddlebags.

As they came to Aspire’s door, the first on the left, just before Esalen’s room, he turned and held up a hoof. His lips tugged into a smirk. “Okay,” he said, his eyes shining with a knowing gleam. “Now you have to close your eyes.”

She arched a brow. “Really? I thought we weren’t doing that.”

His smirk broadened into a toothy grin. “Actually, if you listened properly, I said that I wasn’t planning on making you search for it. I never said you weren’t going to have to close your eyes.”

Sure Stroke pressed her lips together. He had her there, frankly. So much for how well she’d been doing in picking up on their wordplay and cues. Though, really, that was just her not paying full attention to his reply. Something he would happily play on if she didn’t correct it.

The way he licked his fangs and swished his tail was testament enough to that.

With a sigh and playful mutter of “By Celestia,” she did as asked. “Okay,” she said with only a hint of sarcasm and tossed her mane. “There. Eyes closed. Now—” she held up a hoof for him to take “—I believe you’re supposed to guide me so I don’t run into whatever it is you’ve got in there. And don’t you even think of going for my bags, or I’ll smack you again.”

His chittering laughter tickled her ears. “Of course, I expect as much.” She felt his hoof grip hers, then his smooth lips press against her own in a soft kiss. He drew back just enough to speak, his lips tickling hers with each word, “Don’t worry. Sharers’ Day is the one day of the year you’ll never have to watch out for our tricks. Sharing gifts is just as sharing love or offering trades. No one messes with those three things.”

Sure Stroke’s ears twitched, she made mental note of his comment as she heard him nudge his bedroom door open and slowly lead her inside. She felt his other forehoof touch her shoulder, carefully steering her around the various spellings of storage slime she knew to hang from the walls and spread over the floor like gooey cobwebs, around his pod seat and desk and the bulbous pod the size of two full thunderheads that served as his bed. Her hoof clipped the corner of something solid, drawing a curse from her lips. Aspire offered a hasty apology before tugging her a little more to the left, around whatever object she’d tripped over, then guided her backward until her tail brushed against the wall.

She heard him take in a deep breath. His hooves released her and thudded softly against the wooden floor. Aspire shifted to the side, until he was standing by her right shoulder. A nervous breath tickled her cheek. “Okay,” he said softly. “Open your eyes.”

Her curiosity piqued and heart racing, Sure Stroke opened her eyes, blinking twice to adjust to the dimmed light Aspire favored in his bedroom, and looked forward.

Then her jaw dropped.

Before her stood a wooden easel, just like the one she used to use back home in Cloudsale, when the art teachers would let her play with paints. Its ledge came up to about her chest so it would hold the canvas’s center at eye level. On each leg, she could see a metal adjustor fastened on the side, so she could slide more leg down to make it taller. Already, there was a blank canvas in place, waiting to be painted by an artist’s brush. Alongside the easel, knocked askew by what she now realized had been her own clumsy hoof, were a stack of four pristine white canvases, waiting just like their companion.

Everything clicked into place. Zephyr’s feigned innocence and smirk, all the art supplies Esalen, Nimble, Toola, and Vector bought her, they were all things she’d been wanting for ages or running dangerously low on. Sketches and silly doodles—and yes, they were doodles, she would admit—could only satisfy her for so long. She needed to sketch and color scenery. She needed to paint the sky on a cloudless day, or the verdant forest around their village.

Or those gorgeous blue eyes staring at her, betraying the nervousness of a handsome nymph desperate to know if his gift had been worthy, yet too afraid to flick out his tongue and taste it himself.

A pity, really. The pure joy and love that billowed in her chest would have had him walking on sunshine for hours.

All the better for his meal, of course. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t get a bit of a taste. An appetizer, even.

Though, really, she hardly needed to frame the way she wrapped him in a hug and planted a deep kiss upon him in such a way. Her eyes fluttered shut, though not before she saw his go as wide as dinner plates, just like the day she’d first kissed him, then slowly drooped. Her tongue trailed along his smooth, chitinous lips, teasing the length of his fangs in a way she just knew to coax forth a sharp breath and a buzz of his wings.

She broke the kiss, pausing a moment to lick his nose. “Thank you,” she whispered, kissing the very spot she’d licked. Her embrace tightened. “Thank you so much, Aspire.”

A sheepish, wobbly grin spread across his face. “You’re welcome, Sure Stroke,” he murmured, his cheeks flushed black. “I don’t suppose it would be too much to ask to watch you work on it?”

“Not at all.” Sure Stroke fluffed her feathers and planted another kiss on his lips, then leaned in to whisper, “If I could let Enticier watch me sketch the falls, I can definitely let my boyfriend watch me paint and draw and sketch and doodle whenever he likes.” The grin he gave in reply made her heart flutter. She nuzzled his ear, slowly reaching into her saddlebag for his gift. “Now,” she whispered as she pulled it out and held it beneath his nose, “I believe there’s a nymph who’s behaved well enough to get his present—even though he tried sneaking peeks for two days.”

A merry chitter rolled in the back of his throat. Aspire practically snatched the package from her grasp and sat back on his haunches, grinning like he’d just caught a fish with his bare hooves. “Peeking at ponies’ presents for us is an important Sharers’ Day tradition,” he retorted without taking his eyes off the package. “Blah de blah, insert my usual informational lecture here. What did you get me?” Without waiting for a response, the nymph set about shredding the wrapping paper with both fang and hoof, sending bits of paper everywhere in his haste.

Sure Stroke bit her lip as he removed the top and tossed it haphazardly across the room, where it struck and stuck in a web of storage slime. He gazed into the box, then pulled out his mug.

It was a simple affair. Painted pure white, with a deep, verdant green interior, dotted with ovals, circles, and oblong shapes to imitate those in his legs, mane, and tail. He rolled it about in his hoof, smiling at the detail—genuine smile, not a smirk or grin, but one reserved only for those closest to him.

Then he turned it and saw the face.

He threw back his head and let out a chitter that echoed through the room. His wings buzzed, he brought a hoof to cover his mouth, his shoulders shook as he turned it around to display for her. “World’s Smuggest Changeling?” he cried through his mirth. “Oh, this is just perfect! I’m going to keep this on my desk and drink out of it when I get to teach! I can just recline and smirk while everyone takes tests!”

“Or groan at your stupid jokes and terrible puns.” Beaming Sure Stroke leaned down to nuzzle his nose. “I’m glad you like it, Aspire. I wanted to make something personal.”

“Like it?” Aspire cupped her chin so he could gaze into her eyes. “I love it, Sure Stroke. I love all the little touches you put into it. I love you so much.” He licked her snout from chin to nose. His eyes shone with joy. “And I can tell how much you put into this. And how much you love me.”

A shudder ran down her spine as he set the mug down, then began to rise. He stepped forward, nosing against her as he playfully pushed her, forcing Sure Stroke to take a step back. Then another. The young nymph said nothing, simply smiling and gazing into her eyes while he nuzzled a slow circle around her nose and guided her back until her rump touched the gelatinous surface of his bedpod.

He brought a hoof to her chest, gently pushing her to lay down in the warm, gooey embrace of changeling slime. Aspire slithered on top of her, leaning down so their lips were a mere fraction of a hair apart. “So before I get present number two,” he whispered. “I have to point out that I’ve noticed something about your gift.”

“O-Oh?” Sure Stroke asked. “What’s that?”

“I can’t take it with me if we travel anywhere. And I especially can’t put this on my muzzle.”

“Why not? Because it says that you’re a changeling on it?”

His eyes glittered. “No. Because then I'd be smuggling a smugling mug on a smugling's smug mug."

Sure Stroke fixed him with a glare. “I take it all back. I hate you, I hate your stupid puns, and I’m destroying that mug.”

Aspire simply licked his lips and hummed as if savoring the taste. “Mmm, a hint of irritation, but no hate, I’m afraid. In fact—” he leaned up to whisper in her ear, his eyes glowed a vibrant green “—you’re so delectably full of love right now, it’s making my mouth water. And I’ve been looking forward to feeding on you ever since you offered it at lunch …”

Not a subtle hint, but, then again, there didn’t need to be any such things. He was hungry and she’d promised.

More than enough to make any nymph antsy and ready to pounce, though only when finally granted permission to feed.

He’d have to wait just a moment longer, though. There was still part three.

“Before you do,” she said, “there is one last present I had in mind.”

Aspire drew back, his eyes shone brighter than before. “You’re going to spoil me,” he drawled teasingly. “You realize if you give me something else I want, I’m going to have to find a way to match it. I can’t just let you give something more on Sharers’ Day when I’m supposed to be thanking you for the love you give, not eating more of it like I’m about to.”

Sure Stroke rolled her eyes. “If it helps, it’s something you’ve wanted and something I’ve hesitated on.”

His brows shot up. “Oh?”

“And it’s …” She ducked her head to hide a goofy smile. “It’s something I hadn’t given much thought toward after you stopped bringing it up, but now … I want it.”

“Go on.”

She took a deep breath to ready herself. Then leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “I want to sleep in a bedwrap with you tonight.”

Never in all her years would she forget the way his face lit up like Clousdale’s skyline on Hearth’s Warming Eve, nor the way he held her as he closed the distance and kissed her as only a changeling could. His tongue slipped into her mouth and teased, prodded, and encircled her own in a passionate dance that made her eyes cross and tail twitch. Or the way she moaned into his mouth, hugging him tightly as she felt him inhale and draw in a drink of her love.

All of it for him.

The tingle that spread through her chest felt like warm fluff. The same way he made her feel each and every day. Puns, stupid jokes, affectionate nuzzles, licks, kisses, and all. What better meal for her favorite nymph?

What better way to tell her boyfriend how much she loved him?

4. In the Garden I Found Love

Her heart raced, beating in her ears like the steady beat of a marching drum. Toola felt her breathing quicken, each gulp of sweet air seemed to catch in the back of her throat before it ever made it to her lungs.

She tried to ignore it. Oh, how valiantly Toola fought against the treacherous nervousness which delved into her chest and gripped her heart like a claw. Her knees quacked and stiffened with each step she took down the well-trodden path toward her home. Any effort to reassure herself fell before a tidal wave of anxiety.

Why shouldn’t she feel nervous? What about all the things that might go wrong?

Why possibly couldn’t go wrong? Of all the days for her to freeze up and flub a big move, it would be today.

Today was Sharers’ Day and she was alone with Esalen. Today was the day she vowed to confess her feelings for the wonderful, brilliant, gorgeous nymph trotting by her side, completely innocent of her intent.

Or was she?

After all, Esalen could taste each and every emotion she felt—from slimy, rotten anxiety to fluffy, candy-sweet love, the very nectar of their race. What if Sure Stroke had been right? What if Esalen already knew?

It had been Esalen who pulled her aside to exchange gifts somewhere out of the way.

Alone.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced back at her saddlebags. Toola had specifically kept her right side free of her own gifts so not to disturb the present she’d picked out for Esalen. Any tear in the wrapping paper would ruin everything. The yoga mat Sure Stroke bought her was stuffed into the left side pouch along with a few posters on yoga poses, courtesy of Vector and Zephyr, and a few bags of Chocolate Almond’s sweets from Aspire in repayment for all the delicious love he had to offer. Her family’s gift, a promise to take a special day trip to Manehattan on her birthday, had been given at home and stored safely in her desk.

A small part of her dared to wonder what Esalen had gotten her for all the times she’d offered love over the past year. Gifts from Sharers’ Days past flitted through her mind at blinding speed, each typically involved sweets, toys, or a book. Typical presents for friends.

With all the yoga-centric gifts she’d received today, she wouldn’t be surprised to get another. But …

She certainly wouldn’t mind something else.

A kiss would be more than enough.

Up ahead, she saw her family’s small wooden house situated against the southwest edge of the forest. Her mother’s garden stood off to the side, by a shed full of gardening tools and herbalist equipment. In short, all the stuff she and Nimble were strictly forbidden from playing around until the end of time.

Or, at least, until her mother forgave them for the time they broke one of her table legs and broke her nice ceramic jar fill of something-or-other. And several of its cousins.

Her eyes flitted to Esalen again. Those beautiful pink eyes glanced over toward her at that instant, a smile played upon her smooth, chitinous face. Not for the first time did she wonder just how easily it might be to get lost in those eyes if Esalen ever turned on her charm—more than the average Caretaker. Or how soft that flowing, sugar pink mane was.

Esalen guided her to the garden, her eyes seemed to dazzle like twinkling stars. The coy, impish smirk she so often wore practically spread across her face. “So,” she began slowly, “quite a week you had, I hear. Running all the way to Manehattan to find one last present, eh, giggle box?”

She knew. She just had to know.

Toola bit her bottom lip. “There was a … special someone I wanted to buy for.”

Black ears twitched. “Really now?” Esalen purred as she steered Toola toward the garden, passed a cluster of lillies as gold as sun, her mother’s favorite. She drew closer, rubbing their shoulders together and fluttering her eyelashes. “Would it be anyone I know? Or did you bounce away and slip it to someone while we weren’t looking?”

“N-No! I didn’t slip away!” Her cheeks burned. “The only other gifts I gave were to my parents and Nimmy.”

“So then it was to one of us.” The nymph tossed her mane, then stepped in front of Toola Roola, her hips turning and tail swishing in time with her steps. A lovely dance that tempted Toola to break eye contact for a bare second.

Oh, how tempting it was.

Esalen’s tongue flicked out. Her eyes narrowed as she drew in to fix Toola with a smoldering look. “I taste a yes there,” she teased. “So who was it? Zephyr was quite happy with that replica Royal Guard sword you had Haberdasher send from Manehattan, Aspire was way too happy for any nymph getting a trigonometry book, of all things …” Both fillies laughed at the memory of how his face lit up and his wings buzzed like a hive full of bees.

Even through a heavy blush and ocean of nerves, Toola couldn’t help it.

Then it all came crashing down like a tidal wave and strangled the laughter in the back of her throat. Her tail dipped as if to tuck between her legs, but she beat back the urge. Today was not a day for cowering. No! Today was a day of action.

Today was the day, darn it. She couldn’t falter now, not when everything was so close, so perfect! In her mother’s garden full of beautiful flowers, none so much as the nymph before her. But how to play it cool when her crush could literally tell her each emotion she was feeling?

Esalen’s smirk seemed to bloom into a full, toothy grin. “So,” she spoke slowly, stepping closer so their noses were but a hair’s breadth apart, “do I get to know whose present was so important it had you making secret trips to Manehattan without telling Nimble? Or do I need to pay a fee?”

Toola blinked twice. “A fee?”

“Why, yes. A trade, maybe?” Her horn lit olive green, a tendril of magic snaked into her saddlebags and retrieved a slender box about as long as her snout, and as wide as her braid. “I know it’s not exactly proper, since this is part of your gift, but I figure if I let you open yours first, it’s fair. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I … wait a minute, you pull this same trick every year.” She fixed Esalen with a glare, though the smile spreading across her rosy cheeks only served to diminish the effect. “You always tell me we ponies are supposed to sit still and receive ours first because that’s the way tradition works! And then everyone else just exchanges at random anyway!”

Giving a feigned gasp, Esalen brought a hoof to her chest. “Do I? Well, I suppose I’ll have to work on that! Can’t have me getting predictable with my tricks, or I might end up in remedial classes with Façade!” She waggled her ears, then stepped closer, trailing her hoof up Toola’s chest in a slow circle. “So,” she said softly, “what do I have to do to get that little secret out of you? I assume promises of no tickling are only the start of your price. Hmm?”

Toola licked her lips. There was only one thing she really wanted from Esalen. And getting it as part of some silly deal wasn’t the way to go about getting it—not properly, at least. The gymnast took a deep breath to steel her nerves and alleviate some of the tension in her shoulders. She glanced passed Esalen at a cluster of gorgeous carnations at the end of the path surrounded by jasmine bushels. The pathway itself ended in a little cul-de-sac, allowing a visitor to stand in the midst of all the lovely flora and fauna and just take it all in. Sugar pink, just like Esalen’s beautiful mane and eyes, and a nice, soothing scent for her own nerves.

Perfect.

“Why don’t we sit down first?” she asked, gesturing to the flower patch. “And maybe this year …”

Esalen’s ears swiveled forward. “Hmmm?” she prompted. “Go on.”

Toola swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Maybe this year you could let me go first?”

Her brows disappeared beneath her sugar pink bangs. Esalen’s smile twisted into a half grimace, half questioning frown. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I sort of like our little tradition where I trick you into letting me go first. It lets me watch you smile and squirm so.”

True, it did. How could she forget her first Sharers’ Day? Esalen had bought Toola a bottle of perfume from Maison de la Lune. Both of their families had been treated to the sight of their giggly, bouncy friend pouncing on a chittering nymph and trying to hug the very stuffing out of her while she squealed her thanks. Vanilla and lilac had been her favorite scent ever since.

It reminded her of that wonderful day. The day it all truly began for Toola Roola.

Normally, she might entertain their little tradition, but not today. There was too much at stake for her to go squirmy and such before she could say it. More importantly, before she could talk herself out of it.

Toola gracefully sidestepped around Esalen with a nervous giggle. “N-Nope! Not this time, Essy!” she sang as she trotted over toward the end of the path with a swish of her colorful tail. She stole a quick glance back and bit her lip when she noticed Eslalen’s eyes drift for a split second before they flitted up to meet hers again. A shiver ran down her spine. “This time, I’m going first, because mine has parts! So bring yourself over here and follow me for once!”

Those pink eyes flashed with glee. “All right,” Esalen drawled, slowly sashaying over. The sway in her hips more pronounced than before, for a moment she seemed all the more like Caress or Queen Euphoria prowling toward their mates. Or Vigil toward Sweet Treat.

The Enchanter blood in her? Or was it just a want to be near a pony she felt for strongly? Either way, the slow, sensuous sway in her hips and the gleam in those gorgeous eyes made Toola’s mouth run dry and stirred a warmth that drifted toward her tail. Another swish did little to alleviate it.

Once again, she licked her lips. Oh, did Esalen even realize the things she did to her?

Esalen stopped when she reached Toola, their noses once again practically touching. “So, then,” she said softly, motioning toward the path, “shall we sit down?”

She has to know. She just has to. With a jerky nod, Toola sat down a so quickly her rump hit the ground with a dull thud.

Amused, Esalen let out a snort, then sat gracefully beside her, swishing her tail as she scooted closer to the nervous filly. The ends teased and tickled Toola’s cutie mark like the caress of silk. “All right,” she said, a playful note crept into her tone. Much like the nymph herself when hunting the foals during a game of hide and seek. “Here we are, gigglebox. Sitting down together, all nice and cozy, in the midst of your mother’s most beautiful flowers.”

The nymph leaned in again, fluttering her eyelashes. “Do I have to beg now? Or is there a different part two to me getting my gift and hearing you tell whose gave you such trouble? Hmm?”

That tore it.

Either she knew it was her gift, she was tasting all the love and anxiety in Toola and put two and two together, or both. Toola knew that tone, that look in her eyes as she batted her lashes and crooned so sweetly. She knew it all too well.

Then another thought came to mind: Esalen could have gotten Sure Stroke to spill.

She sucked in a sharp breath. Sure Stroke had better not have told Essy about how much trouble her gift was causing me to cover her own tail, or so help me, Celestia …

Toola reached into her right saddlebag pouch with a tumbling hoof and retrieved a pair of wrapped packages—one a rectangular shape about an inch and a half thick and six long, the other a box about six inches tall and four wide.

She tried not to look nervous, but even she knew how her eyes betrayed the worry behind her crooked smile. “Happy Sharers’ Day, Essy,” she mumbled. “Thanks for being such a great friend for all these years. You’ve made living in Respite …” Perfect. “Wonderful.”

“Oh, please,” Esalen replied with a smile, “you’re an amazing filly, Toola.”

Every fiber of her self-control was rallied to beat back the renewed blush threatening to spread across her face. “Thank you. I hope you like them. Honestly—” she bit her lip. There was no going back now. “Honestly, you were the one I was having the most trouble finding gifts for. I wanted to do something a bit different, but … I think I still came up a bit short for what you mean to me.”

There it was. A hint as bright and shining as the sun.

Esalen frowned. “Toola, please. The fact that you think me such a good friend is a gift in and of itself.” Slowly, her lips curved upward—not into that coy, playful smirk she so loved to wear to wheedle things out of her friends, but a genuine smile. The kind Toola could just lose herself in every day. “These,” she said, accepting the packages and nodding toward them, “are just the cherry on top of one of Creamy and Frosty’s sundaes.”

Her piece said, Esalen took the thin package and set the box aside. She unwrapped it carefully, slicing through the tape with a thin whiplike strand of olive magic to make it easier for her hooves to tug it apart. That she could have simply used her fangs was not lost on Toola—rather, it showed something else.

Those gleaming fangs of hers might have damaged whatever was inside, either with their edge or the tiniest drop of venom.

The nymph unwrapped the first package with ease. Her eyes traced over the cover image, a stallion in his mid twenties glared at some unseen foe, his dark amber eyes alight with fury and his mane whipping wildly. The tail of his dark cloak, littered with runic sigils, flapped in the howling wind as he readied to attack, tiny flecks of snow dotted his shoulders. Behind him, the scenery showed the silhouette of the Manehattan skyline shrouded by a thick fog. The title stood within the fog itself, written in pointed silvery script:

The Princess of Frost
The Sixth Installment of The MacCulkin Diaries
Written by Silver Spinner

“The new Donnchad MacCulkin novel!” Esalen squealed, her eyes lit up as a broad grin spread across her face. She buzzed her wings, looking up at Toola Roola with a look of utmost joy written naked upon her face. “I forgot this was coming out this year!”

Toola ducked her head. “The store owner said it came out a month or so ago,” she said, “and that every store in Manehattan has been selling out nearly as quickly as they’ve put them on the shelves. A lot of ponies have been waiting some time for it.”

“Everyone has! You heard what’s supposed to happen in this one, right?” More buzzing filled her ears. Esalen looked as though she was ready to shapeshift into her favored disguise, in pegasus form rather than her typical unicorn appearance, for the sole purpose of doing backflips through the air. Why, she was practically vibrating with glee! Her right hoof shot out and snaked around Toola’s shoulder, pulling her into a tight hug with little warning. A squeak escaped the filly’s lips as Esalen nosed against her cheek. “Thank you so much! I can’t wait to read it!”

An airy giggle built up in Toola’s chest, she leaned into her friend’s touch. “You’re welcome. But there’s still another gift for you to open. And …” She bit her lip. She had to say something. Anything to let Esalen know there was more to it. “And there’s something I need to tell you.”

Esalen drew back and tilted her head. She blinked once. “Oh?”

Maybe she didn’t know after all, then. A tiny part of Toola felt pained. “It can wait until after we open gifts.” She nudged the other box toward Esalen. “Open your next one. I hope you like it as much as the book.”

“Of course. How silly of me to forget this one.” Esalen bumped their shoulders together. “And I’ll hold you to that. I expect to hear whatever it is that’s made you taste so rotten today.” Again, an olive glow wreathed her curved black horn. A thin wisp of magic slashed through the tape so her hooves could pull the wrapping paper apart until it yielded its bounty.

A jar of pale blue salve bearing the name Ocean Breeze’s Massage Clinic and Supply written in deep blue cursive upon a sandy brown field greeted her. A sharp intake of breath brought a tiny smile back to Toola’s face.

“It’s supposed to help tightened or strained muscles relax,” she explained. “The clerk gave me a name of the medicine, but I can’t quite remember it. She did say this was supposed to be used during a massage to help everything loosen up and make it less painful to treat minor injuries like muscles spasms, rather than have a pony just put it on themselves like the one it’s made from.”

Esalen nodded slowly, her eyes focused on the label for a couple seconds longer. She set the jar atop the book, then turned to face Toola, her expression unreadable.

Then, her smooth, chitinous forelegs wrapped tight around Toola’s barrel, nearly cracking her ribs and squeezing the very air from her lungs. She felt Esalen’s chin settle into the crook of her neck, warm breath and the tips of her fangs teased her soft magenta coat.

It robbed her of the chance to see the goofy smile that tugged at the corners of Toola’s mouth, slowly spreading across her face as she laid her head against Esalen’s and returned the hug. The little gymnast took a deep breath, savoring the enticing scent of Esalen’s strawberry perfume, soft jasmine, and sweet carnations wafting to her nose. It was just a perfect moment, so much so she wished it could last forever.

They sat there in silence. Toola felt her heart beating in her ears again. The drum cadence picked up in tempo and nearly doubled in volume until she could scarcely hear herself think.

Then a second cadence joined in opposite time. Esalen’s heart.

Toola’s breath caught in her throat. She could feel it. Even through Esalen’s carapace, she could feel it pounding against her chest as though her crush was chasing her during a game of tag. Or perhaps hide and seek or the Hunting Game.

Esalen was either nervous … or excited.

Just like her.

Toola took a deep breath. There was no better time. This was the moment she’d awaited and angst over for ages.

“Essy?” she asked, her voice faltering on the last syllable.

Her crush drew back and fixed her with a quizzical look. “Yes?”

“Can … can you wait a minute to give me mine?”

Esalen blinked. “Why? Is something bothering you?” Her tongue flicked out, then her brows furrowed. “Toola, you taste … odd. Rotten. What’s eating you? If it’s your gifts, I love them, so please don’t tell me it’s that. By love itself, I swear I do.” She cupped Toola’s cheeks in her hooves. Worry flashed across her beautiful features. “Please talk to me. Why does my Toola Roola taste so scared?”

Her Toola Roola.

If only she knew how Toola longed that to be true.

With trembling hooves, she reached up to grasp Esalen’s. She gently tugged them away from her face, offering a weak smile. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for—” she sucked in a shuddering breath. Don’t get scared now! “For a long time. But I’ve always chickened out right when I thought I was ready.”

“You can tell me anything, Toola. I’m not—”

“Please just let me say it!” Toola cut her off in a rush. “If you start talking, I’ll start thinking, and then I’ll do it again and it’ll be right back to square one!”

Esalen shut her mouth with an audible click of her sharpened teeth. Her brows disappeared beneath her bangs once again. Silently, she waggled her ears to prompt Toola.

The floor was hers.

She swallowed a mouthful of saliva, only then did she notice how dry it felt. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Sort of a third gift I’d like to give you. I’m not sure if you’ll like it or how you’ll even feel about it, but I’ve spent too long worrying. I just … need to. Now.”

Stalling, Toola scolded herself. You’re stalling for time. Just say it! Right now! Stop stalling or you’ll chicken out again!

Pausing to lick her lips, she made to speak, but her throat tightened. Her voice, her very breath caught in the back of her throat. Butterflies fluttered about in her belly, whipped into a tornado-like frenzy of fluttering wings and warmth. Slowly, her ears began to droop.

She couldn’t say it. Even after all this time.

She couldn’t say it.

But she could do something about it.

“I’m sorry. I can’t say it.” Toola cupped Esalen’s cheeks in her hooves. “But I can do this.”

Before Esalen could ask—or, more importantly, before Toola let her nerves fail, she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against her startled crush’s. Soft pony coat teased along those gleaming fangs and smooth chitinous lips, a sensation she’d craved far too long.

Esalen’s eyes shot wider than dinner plates. A hot breath washed over Toola’s face. Then, slowly, her eyelids drooped as she fixed the her with a smoldering, half-lidded look that brought the butterflies back in force. Gentle hooves wrapped around her neck, the nymph tilted her head to the side and, with a deep breath, closed her eyes and deepened the kiss.

The forked tips of her tongue teased and ran along Toola’s lips, drawing a gasp from the back of her throat as she expertly coaxed them apart and slipped it inside. Toola’s eyelids fluttered closed, her tail swished, sending a few tiny pebbles skittering off into the underbrush. She heard the telltale tinkling sound of magic, then their saddlebags and gifts scuffling and shifting along the ground as Esalen deftly maneuvered them off to the side. One of her hooves slid from the back of her neck, trailing up to caress her cheek as she shifted her weight and began to slowly lean forward, guiding Toola to lay down in the middle of her mother’s garden.

A soft sigh escaped Toola’s lips. She felt Esalen’s tongue wrap around her own, alternating between playful prodding, slow sensuous caresses, and eager exploration of every nook and cranny. As if the nymph wished to memorize every inch, every action that brought another sigh, a shudder, or a needy gasp and swish of her colorful, wavy tail.

Minutes crept along like an eternity. But when Esalen broke the kiss, Toola found herself left wanting for more. It was over all too soon.

The pair’s eyes met. Toola squirmed beneath Esalen as those gleaming, glittering eyes entranced her so. The corners of her mouth curved into a goofy, nervous smile.

“You,” Esalen purred slowly, “are in so much trouble, Toola Roola.”

Toola felt her cheeks burn rosy red. “Am I?”

“You have no idea.” The nymph let out a breathy chitter and licked her snout from chin to the tip of her nose, then dotted it with a kiss. “I was going to kiss you first and tell you how I felt after I gave you my gifts. But you just had to steal it, didn’t you?” As Toola fell to muffled giggles, Esalen pecked her lips before trailing a few fluffy kisses to her jawline and licking along her cheek until she could nuzzle beneath her ear. “I think after we’re done with yours, I’ll have to pay you back for robbing me of the chance.”

“W-Will you?”

“Oh, yes!” Though Toola couldn’t see her eyes, she knew they’d taken on that dangerous green glow. She could feel the fanged grin against her mane. “I think I’m owed several kisses. Perhaps with some interest …” Esalen nipped at her ear, drawing a gasp. “A nice, warm bedwrap, I think. In my room, where I can kiss you as much—” another nip “—as I want.” She drew back to fix Toola with a smirk that nearly had her squirming all over again. “How does my Toola Roola like the sound of that?”

Toola could manage little more than something of a cross between an airy giggle and a squeak as she tried to hide a grin behind her hooves. All for naught, even if Esalen hadn’t simply flicked out her tongue and hummed, savoring the taste of her joy and love.

If her face wasn’t split by a grin, Toola would be surprised.

With a dark, chittering chuckle, Esalen sat up straight, her tail swished and brushed against Toola’s as she tossed her mane. “Well, since I’ve been beaten to the proverbial table on our first kiss and confession, I hope you don’t mind if I take the initiative to ask if you’d like to date?” At Toola’s nod, she waggled her ears. “Good! Then we can figure out our first another day. Until then, I have this for you.”

Toola felt the edge of the thing rectangular package poke her cheek. She turned, taking it in hoof as it darted forward to poke her again, and made to open it.

“There are two gifts inside,” Esalen said before she had even begun to tear at the paper. She scooted herself around and hugged Toola from behind, laying her head upon her shoulder as she added, “The first is more a suggestion, if you like it, we can keep it that way. If not, we can figure it out later. The second …” she trailed off. Toola felt her swallow. “I saw it when mom and I snuck out to Manehattan a few weeks back to buy our gifts. It made me think of your eyes.”

Curious, Toola turned her gaze upon the package and shredded the paper without any of her usual grace, nor that of her newly-acquired girlfriend. When all the pesky wrapping paper and tape had fallen away, a white rectangular box stared back at her. An unfamiliar logo with a heart surrounded by three diamonds graced the lid.

She lifted it off to find a folded slip of paper. Toola furrowed her brows as she picked up the paper with her free hoof and opened it with a flick of her wrist. Six words written in neat, flowing cursive—Esalen’s writing—stood alone at the center of the slip.

Hearts On Our Hooves Therapy Clinic

Esalen, Licensed Massage Therapist

Toola Roola, Licensed Yoga Instructor and Professional Gymnast

“It’s a work in progress,” Esalen admitted with a note of sheepishness to her tone. “But I figured it would fit us nicely. We can tinker with it until we actually get it going. Think of this as my promise to make that idea of ours happen.”

Toola turned to nuzzle her nose. “It’s wonderful.” She dotted Esalen’s lips with a kiss, humming as she savored the sensation and taste. Still sweet. “Thank you. This means a lot to know you really want to make your trade with me.”

Black chitinous ears waggled. “I meant what I said, gigglebox. I’d happily open a clinic with you, just like Creamy, Frosty, and Chocolate have their parlor, and how Sweet Treat has Vigil help out at hers.” Playfully, Esalen nipped at her snout. “Now look again. You’re missing out on the other part, you silly filly.”

The other part?

Toola had gotten her kiss, her crush had become her girlfriend, and they’d all but vowed to make their trades one. What else could she possibly want?

Esalen gave a pointed nod toward the box. “Go on,” she commanded gently. “Look.”

With a questioning hum, Toola turned, following her girlfriend’s gaze to the last present awaiting her approval. Her heart skipped a beat.

It was deceptively simple. A black cord just long enough to fit around her neck, with a metal fastener on the back. From a metal chain, a silver backing bore a smooth piece of pink stone the same shade as Esalen’s mane and lovely eyes. At the center of the stone, a hole had been carved out and, within it, a second stone had been set.

A piece of turquoise, just as bright as her own mane. A little piece of Esalen and herself.

Toola covered her mouth. Her eyes blurred as jubilant tears welled and threatened to roll down her cheeks. She turned and planted a kiss on Esalen’s snout that prompted a rolling purr in the back of the nymph’s throat. After holding it a moment, she drew back and licked her nose, fluttering her eyelashes. “Could you—” a squeak in her voice made her bite down on her lip, cursing her treacherous throat. “Could you help me put it on? My hooves aren’t so good with little things like this fastener.”

Esalen’s eyes glimmered, full of tears just like hers. With a slow lick to her nose in turn, she lit her horn again. “Anything for my Toola Roola.”