Two Tales of the Same Coin
In the center of Hope Hollow, Star Swirl the Bearded walked alongside Rockhoof. “I’m glad you agreed to come along,” Star Swirl said to the bigger stallion. “Twilight said that the gathering takes place once a year. A large town festival at the end of the rainbow.”
“Aye. A big claim for a cozy place such as this,” Rockhoof replied, motioning to the friendly-looking cottages. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
“It’ll just be you and I, yes,” Star Swirl hesitantly said. “I’ve heard distressing news about you. I thought you could use a little vacation.” He glanced over Rockhoof’s face, expecting either laughter or sadness. But Rockhoof kept his eyes straight ahead, even when Star Swirl’s curiosity intruded purposely into his view. “Twilight said you wanted to be turned to stone.”
“And there it is!” And there it was—the eruption of emotion pouring down Rockhoof’s long face, from forehead to chin. “I’m fine, Star Swirl. I am fine! Even the strong have moments of weakness. If we’re a few thousand years old, I think I’m allowed to have a mental break at least once a century.”
Star Swirl stopped in front of the home of Hope Hollow’s mayor. He couldn’t hide the grin in his deep white beard. “And I believe you, don’t think I don’t. But I didn’t ask you to tag along to be berated or scolded. I’ve been traveling around Equestria long enough, and I’ve learned a few things about friendship. Even this old dog can learn new tricks. Hearing your anguish—I realized I’d been neglecting those who first showed me what friendship meant.”
The anger in the big oaf’s face disappeared, and he then gripped Star Swirl around the neck, squeezing tight. “You’re just a big softie now, ain’tcha, ol’ white and wise? Never thought I’d see the day. Well, I didn’t think I’d see any days once we agreed to enter Limbo.”
Star Swirl pushed out from Rockhoof’s abysmally strong grip, then fixed his wizard’s hat. With a huff, he knocked on the mayor’s door. “That’s exactly why I invited you along without the others, Rockhoof. Who knows where the world will take us relics. Definitely not like the old days, eh?”
When the door opened, a beautiful mare answered. Though she started to speak—to greet the two—her words slurred to a stop. Her eyes went wide and darted between them both. “Petunia? Who is it?” a stallion called from the inside. The pink mare didn’t answer, though her jaw tried to move. “Oh my goodness! Star Swirl the Bearded and Rockhoof? I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow!”
“You must be Mayor Sunny Skies,” Star Swirl replied, nodding his head as a way of greeting. “I do apologize for our unexpected arrival. I didn’t want something to come up for myself or Rockhoof that would delay us.”
Sunny Skies extended his hoof, to which Star Swirl shook. “It’s not a problem. This is my wife, Petunia Petals. It’s a big honor to meet you both.” He nudged the mare aside and allowed the two stallions entrance. “Petunia, could you be a dear and go make sure the lodge is all set up for our important guests?” Petunia nodded, though she backed out of the cottage slowly, keeping her eyes locked on Star Swirl and Rockhoof. “You’ll have to excuse her. It was an honor having Rainbow Dash and the bearers of Harmony at our festival last year. Having you two here is beyond amazing!”
“Yes, that’s why I needed to talk to you,” Star Swirl started. “This isn’t meant to be a stardom show. I wanted to come with Rockhoof as attendees, rather than celebrities if you will. I tried to make that clear in my letter, but thought speaking of the topic in person would be better.”
“Nope. I understood right as rain!” Sunny Skies brought over the letter tucked in a gap on his bookshelf. “I made sure to underline that part when I showed it to a few of our townsfolk. I’ve asked a pony named Kerfuffle and a few others to help manage the crowd as to not, well, crowd you.”
Rockhoof snatched the letter from Sunny. “Crowd us? Har!” he bellowed. “I hope they crowd us. I’ve got lots of tales for your citizens that I’m sure they’d nay hear without me!”
But Star Swirl shook his head. “Rockhoof, that’s why I wanted you, and only you, to tag along with me. I’d like to bring a new story to the keeper of Equestrian tales. Something from this era. I know it’s your job, but do keep it to a minimum, would you?”
“A minimum?” Rockhoof repeated. “We’ve come to the wrong place if you wanted to keep me away from telling tales. Those friendly ponies outside, a welcoming town. Why, back before Limbo, not too far from here, I once helped a family of timber—”
“We’re not even out of the Mayor’s house yet,” Star Swirl interrupted. “Please, Rockhoof. At least try to see this as good teaching material to your students back in Ponyville. Who knows? Maybe next year you can lead a group here on a field trip of some sort.”
Rockhoof tugged on his orange beard. His face showed the slow contemplation of Star Swirl’s plea. “You might be on to something. I’ll give it a shot. Make some new stories.” He nodded.
“Thank you,” Star Swirl replied. “I do believe neither of us will regret it.”
With everything settled, the two stallions were given a guest lodge not too far from the forest’s edge. Ponies did flock to see the two, as Star Swirl expected. Yet Mayor Sunny Smiles proved true to his word, and several volunteers preserved the peace. Of course, there was a price for security. Rockhoof couldn’t contain himself for long, chatting up the ear of the pony named Kerfuffle. But Star Swirl left it alone, especially when, at the pre-festival dinner, Rockhoof didn’t utter a single tale. They enjoyed themselves, living in the moment, just like Star Swirl wanted.
When night dwindled, the two returned to their lodge. “This is why I’ve stuck by you for so long, Star Swirl. You always make the right decision. I wouldn't have thought I’d have so much fun in one night without needing to bring up the past,” Rockhoof said.
“Thank you, Rockhoof. It’s an honor to hear those words from you, though I’m not sure I’ve always made the right decision on everything. I am glad it’s worked out so far. And I’m hoping tomorrow’s spectacle will be just as grand. Sleep well.”
With their pleasantries said and their eyes heavy, the two parted to their rooms and hit the figurative hay. Star Swirl set his cape and hat atop the desk provided and then crept into bed. The air was a bit too stuffy for his tastes, especially under the thick comforter. With his magic, he pushed open the window, letting in the cooling breeze of the night and the sounds of wildlife.
It didn’t take long for his senses to dull and sleep to whisk him away. But just as quickly as it arrived, a noise shot him up, stirred by the surprise. Not just any noise—a voice! It cried his name in pained words.
Star Swirl jumped from his bed, rushing to the window. “Who goes there?” he whisper-yelled. For a moment, he believed it was nothing more than his imagination. A tree line stood several yards from the lodge, and further from there a small walking path with more forest beyond. He scanned the darkness in between the canopy, the foliage, and finally the corners of his own building. Not a single thing.
Then, the voice crackled out, rough and coarse. A bush moved, and the voice called, “Star Swirl!” It was Rockhoof! “Star Swirl, come quick!” he beckoned, just before a thick, green vine snapped around his forehead. It pulled him back into the darkness, dragging him as his hooves bore into the ground.
“Rockhoof!” Star Swirl teleported down from his room, leaving behind his cape and hat. In the blackness beneath the trees, he tried teleporting repeatedly to catch up, but he lost the trail. Luckily, it wasn’t difficult to pick up again as the larger stallion left quite a deep gash in the dirt.
With his horn lit, Star Swirl continued following the diggings until he came upon a brighter light than his own. He dimmed his quickly and then crouched poorly on his old knees. “What in Equestria?” he whispered to himself at the sight.
Several sets of soft, green eyes moved with slow purpose around a tree. Wooden poles were set up with leaves tied in the same fashion as flags for a party. A table, which was clearly pony-made based on the height, was drug by big, wooden teeth. A misshaped stump filled with dirty water was set in the middle, creating a bend. The beasts set garlic around the bowl, along with other white root vegetables. Fireflies gathered, and the moonlight lit the little party well. So much so, Star Swirl could see Rockhoof tied to the big tree that sat in the middle of the gathering.
Aside from Rockhoof, the only attendees for the late-night soiree were the timberwolves who decorated. It wasn’t their manner that confused Star Swirl, but the fact they wore orange and brown leaves as headdresses and beards. Mud kept the vegetation to their faces as though it were the perfect glue. Star Swirl didn’t fail to see the mimicry between them and Rockhoof’s iconic look. For a moment, he debated whether it was the lack of sleep or the natural light playing tricks on his old eyes.
When their decorating came to a finish, the wooden hounds gathered and howled in front of Rockhoof. Star Swirl guessed it was some ritual, and when they finished, they’d scarf down the muscular meal. “I can’t let that happen,” he muttered quietly before setting a spell on his friend. In a blink, Rockhoof appeared untied at his side, stunned by the sudden shift in space.
“Star Swirl?” He spoke too loudly, forcing Star Swirl to clamp down on Rockhoof’s muzzle. But the stallion squirmed against it. “I can’t believe you came. Almost lost hope. Somnambula’d have my hide if she knew!”
“We’re not out of the woods yet. Come on! Let’s get out of here!” Star Swirl turned tail to run, but the bigger stallion gripped on his grey tail.
“Go? And miss the festival? Hah!”
Star Swirl was dragged into the light where the sounds of angry growls echoed all around him. “Rockhoof, what are you doing!?” he shouted and surrounded them in a bubble. “They’ll tear us apart!”
“Not if you’re friends with ol’ Rockhoof, they won’t.” Rockhoof pointed to the tree’s upper branches. In a strange, misspelled ponish language was his name made from vines, branches, and mud. “I’ll admit, I never knew they could be so intelligent. Nor did I believe they’d remember me! Guess ponies aren’t the only group of creatures that trade down tales, eh?”
Slowly lowering his shield, Star Swirl watched and waited. The timberwolves didn’t attack, though they stood on guard. “Are you somehow friends with timberwolves?”
“You want to hear the tale? It’s about time!” Rockhoof hollered, and slapped Star Swirl on the shoulder. “It’s a good, fine story. Sit down.” He waved his hoof and the timberwolves came and sat down around the suspicious Star Swirl. “Now you’ll see why I’m the keeper of tales for Equestria, because this one goes far back! And it involves this tree right here, in fact.”
Star Swirl gulped down his fear of the wooden monsters twice his size. “My curiosity is piqued, Rockhoof. Go ahead.”
“Well, it all began over a thousand years ago—”
I was minding my own business, as I often do. Far from my home, I was traveling Equestria in search of adventure. Or, well, I’d like to say that. In truth, I was completely, hopelessly lost. I’d been turned upside-down for weeks after the Pillars once against split off to return to our normal lives. You’d think ol’ Rockhoof would’ve gotten used to the idea of the boring, humdrum nature of everyday life back then. Or that I’d accept it now that I’ve returned after a couple millennia in Limbo. But no. It’s just more of the same.
Only difference is, ponies didn’t recognize me back then—or timberwolves now that I think about it. No. Back then, Equestria’s citizens were just regular ponies. Earth ponies, pegasi, unicorns. Didn’t matter, they all looked at me the same, and greeted me friendly enough.
But it wasn’t recognition I wanted, or to have my name strung up in lights. Aye, it’s nice, but it’s got nothing on seeing the faces of those I helped. And this tale, I got to see a whole other species light up at my aid.
Being so lost, I was nearing the ocean to the west. I came out of a forest the week before, found the water, and then turned tail back into the forest. My strength is legendary, but the ocean waves got me beat. I knew solid ground, and it knew me. Unfortunately, nature has a funny way of kicking a stallion when he’s down, and I ended up in a terrible marshland.
At one point, my hooves got stuck in the mud. I stood in place for three days. Bitter rain struck my face and the gusts were terrible, but eventually it loosened enough for me to free myself. And it was a good thing too. An unfortunate event turned into a coincidence of fate. I managed to make my way through the bog, fighting off cattails and angry mosquitoes. All just in time to see three helpless maidens cowering in fear as a timberwolf attempted to claw at them.
They hid beneath the gnarled, entangling roots of a mangrove tree, preventing the wooden monster from breaking through and swallowing them whole. Quick in my action and strong with my strike, I slapped the beast’s rump with the back of my shovel, rousing a yelp. Without even a second to react, it leapt off, running back to its lair.
The maidens came gushing to my sides, claiming they’d heard of the terrible timberwolves but didn’t believe. Their village wasn’t far, and the whole town feared the beasts. Rightfully so, maybe. I couldn’t escort the three back home while I knew the timberwolf remained in the marshlands, and so I set out to track it down.
Perhaps, with too much confidence given to me by the maidens, I thought I was prepared. I’d seen where the timberwolf had run off. But in the murky water that trailed up my legs, I once again grew lost.
It took half a day of wandering until I made it up a grassy knoll that stood out in the bog. The moon shined down on everywhere but there it seemed, for clouds hung over the sky and darkened my world. I was glad to have the shelter from the cold, huddling in the roots of the tree.
And you might have guessed it already. If you assumed this was also the same outcropping of earth that the timberwolves made their home, you’d be right. As I slept, they must’ve found me. I awoke in their burrow beneath the tree. Coming to, I thought I was a saved snack. A healthy slab of breakfast. The morning sun filled their home, illuminating the clay and mud around me. They were already awake and staring at me! More importantly, they weren’t gnawing on my limbs.
Since I slept underneath their tree, they must’ve believed I too was one with their kin. They love that tree, just as a colt loves their mother. When I grew bold, I left their burrow. To my surprise, they followed. They didn't growl or try to eat me, nor did I attempt to attack them. Days passed like this.
Hunting for root vegetables in the marsh was difficult, but they showed me how. And I showed them what good ol’ pony ingenuity could do! A shovel digs better than wet wooden claws.
Some of the nastiest vegetables grew around there, too. The knoll had garlic and onion growing around it, and a few water chestnuts in the marsh. My breath reeked, and often enough the wolves would play games of breathing into one anothers nose. They’d yelp and run, and the others would laugh at their distress.
I became friends with them. Ate with them. Slept side by side with them. Perhaps I even started to dress myself like them. Mud and twigs, sticks and branches. Life wasn’t boring with them. They enjoyed to roughhouse too. They’re just big, wooden dogs, after all. A bite from them when they’re playing isn’t any different from two greyhounds nipping at each other’s cheeks. Though, splinters are more common, I’d say.
But fun can’t last forever. One day, a group of ponies appeared. The timberwolves snarled—the ponies were too close to the tree. I’ll admit, I too joined in the rousing refusal of their presence. They ran, and when the timberwolves gave chase, I howled, and they stopped. I’d officially become one with the pack!
That’s when things started to change. Cragadiles weren’t uncommon, but they avoided the timberwolves just as much as the timberwolves avoided them. Then, they started coming into our—I mean their—territory. Not in a malicious way, but out of fear I later found out. A cipactli, an amphibious cousin to the reptilian cragadiles, moved in just a few miles away. It journeyed, as though intent, onto the timberwolves’ domain.
Were it not for me, I don’t think we could’ve beat back that giant monster. The razor-sharp teeth could snap the bark of a timberwolf in two. While my allies surrounded him, I struck with my shovel from the back, and swatted him to wherever he’d come from. The cragadiles didn’t return, though. They moved on, as though their own nest were disturbed.
I should’ve known more problems would come, and I didn’t get my genius idea till much later. It took several more monsters invading before I came to the solution. A manticore, an ursa minor, and eventually a hydra.
With each beast we beat back, my pack grew confident, yet I grew worried. The manticore would’ve stood no chance against them alone, but the ursa minor was larger than all of them. Even my shovel has its limits, but in the end, I sent that bear home crying.
It was the hydra that broke the tree’s trunk, or so the saying goes. The wolves heard it first, a large stomping in the distance. Their little log ears perked up, piquing my interest. Mid-morning, I expected something similar to the ursa minor—a major perhaps. When the four heads came over the treetops, each of their faces looking mighty perturbed, I knew it would be the end for our little lives together if I didn’t do something.
They looked up to me. I couldn’t fail them.
But I knew defeating the hydra would take a lot more than a few shovel whacks. I used all my strength to figure out a plan. In a way, I channeled my own little Star Swirl the Bearded. After so many life-threatening situations that you pulled us through, I figured my best chances to save the timberwolves would be thinking the way you did.
That’s when it hit me. Not the hydra, but an idea. I ran around the tree, picking up all the onions and garlic I could find. The wolves followed, and one by one I shoved vegetables into their splintery mouths. At first they were confused. I showed them chewing and spitting out the food. When they came near, I gave a nice big breath into their snouts. They tucked and dug into the ground at the smell—but it left a mark on them. They understood.
With some of the rankest smells you’d ever have waft into your presence, we rushed to meet the hydra. It seemed attracted to the wolves’ territory, aiming directly for the knoll and their matriarchal tree. But we met it in the open bog, blocking it from proceeding. Four heads were tough to take on, but that was eight nostrils.
Jumping, flipping, and dodging. I was proud to fight alongside my canine brethren. It felt like I was right in line with the Pillars. Except this time, all we needed to do was breathe. Hitting them with our foul smells, one head would react and slam into another. They tangled into themselves by their necks, trying to avoid our breath. A strange, unusual battle, but even Flash Magnus would be proud of the timberwolves’ bravery. I know I was.
When the hydra ran crying off to wherever it came from, I knew it’d be only a matter of time before another terrifying monster would come crawling out from the muck. And to be honest, I was getting tired of the mud on my hooves.
I took my shovel, went to the tree, and dug up as many of the roots as I could. The timberwolves were confused at first, then angry second. They wanted to pounce me when I finally struck the tree, but their loyalty remained. They’re smart creatures, maybe smarter than me. They knew after all the help I’d given, I wasn’t betraying them now.
Burrowing my shovel into the trunk of the tree, I hoisted as hard as I could, pulling on the dug up roots. It gave way, eventually, and I set it down on my back. It took all my strength to hold it steady. The wolves surrounded me, their growls bearing down on me much like the tree's weight. But not once did they attack. And when we left the marshlands, they stopped their angry pursuit. Instead, they followed, curious.
It was a pain bringing that thing—its roots got stuck on nearly everything—but I traveled far with it. Far from any ponies, and I hoped far enough away from any intruding predators. When I picked the perfect spot—this spot—I dug a nice, wide hole. And would you believe it? The beasts helped!
Not since digging the trench to save my village had a hole been dug so swiftly. When we finished, I set the tree in and covered the roots with dirt. A few days passed where I maintained a nice amount of wet soil, and it took to its new surroundings much like the wolves did. Their green colors shined and filled the night sky, and they howled in pleasure, much like now. I'd say we even had a little festival afterward.
I didn’t stay long after that, though. They were settling in all on their own, and I could feel the mental call of you and Stygian. Another battle needed my help, and I took off, leaving the tree and the timberwolves behind. At least, until now.
“Well? What do you think?” Rockhoof asked. “A true fairy tale ending, eh? Aye, I thought it couldn’t be the same tree. But come here, let me show you.” He drug Star Swirl to the back of the tree. Star Swirl noted the indentation, a rough, deep gash. Time had helped fix the bark around it, but Rockhoof’s shovel-head fit perfectly. There was no doubting the tale’s validity.
But even so, Star Swirl couldn’t believe the story. “A swamp, a hydra, and timberwolves. Could it truly be you?” he mumbled, more to himself.
“What’s that?” Rockhoof asked.
“I think there might be more than one side to your story, Rockhoof. And I think I’ve got the other ending,” Star Swirl replied with a gulp. “Though it may not be one you’d like to hear.”
Rockhoof shook his head. “Nonsense! A tale from Star Swirl the Bearded? Never would I turn down such an opportunity! Come! Wolves! Make space for myself. A grand night it is!”
With a huff, Star Swirl trotted to the front of the tree where Rockhoof had stood during his tale. He looked over the timberwolves, none of which appeared angry. Their glowing eyes stared at him like the school foals listening to their teacher. “Very well. I do hope their understanding of our language is—at best—mediocre. Telling this tale may not end well for me. Let me start from my first interaction with the village—”
So long ago, in a town that no longer exists according to this era’s maps, pleas for help rang out. It happened at a time when it seemed right. I just finished an overly long study session with my two initiates, and we separated for a short while. The sisters were rambunctious back then, and I was glad for some peace.
But even though I wanted time alone, I knew in my heart I could not ignore the calls of distress. I made my way down through the town, carefully listening to all the tales spun like spider’s web. They’d cry of monsters made of wood and a pony-sized swamp creature. It’d scare children who ventured too far into the mire, and howl at night, causing a lack of sleep for the farmers.
I knew what they were, of course. Timberwolves weren’t uncommon in that area, though I never heard of them being eager in running amok through a village. Nevertheless, I made my way to find the elder or leader of the cozy town. A routine that’s stuck with me after all this time.
They were glad to see me, knowing their fear would soon be gone. But I was one stallion, old and growing older. Alone, I could not face the peril of dealing with such nimble, ferocious creatures. Nor would I call on the Pillars to help with such a small ordeal. Instead, I used my arcane magic to bring other creatures from different parts of the world. I felt wise in this idea. Introduce one terrifying creature to scare off others, then return it from wince it came.
However, what happened could not have been further from what I wanted. At first, releasing the cipactli in the north terrified the cragadiles. I hadn’t anticipated such a reaction, and I was forced to deal with relocating them as they ran towards the town. The villagers were impressed by my skill in capturing them, yet I did not admit it was my own folly that caused them to clamber from the mud into the homely community.
After releasing the cragadiles, I returned just in time to see my own idea backfire. The cipactli returned, and was just as fast as a timberwolf. My confidence dithered as I narrowly returned it back through a portal to its own home in the south. Though impressed by my feat, the villagers too noticed my mistake. I held steady on the idea, ignoring their skepticism. My decision to fight predator with predator felt like true wisdom. Of course, with Stygian, I think it’s been proven I am not always right.
I unleashed a manticore that ran away crying. Never before had I seen such a ferocious beast cry, but it would not be the last. The ursa minor, I borrowed from its mother. Had I known I would need to apologize to the matron ursine, I might have chosen a smaller creature. I doubt even Flash Magnus would have the bravery to explain to an ursa major why her child will now suffer night terrors. I’d rather spend another thousand years in Limbo than do that once more.
After all the beasts I sent, I grew tired of failing. The villagers looked to me with hope, and I could not let them down. There was one such beast I knew could deal with the timberwolves with ease. I wanted to avoid using it, to simply scare away the wooden beasts. But now I was at the end of my beard, and my anger boiled over. I was snappy, and rather rude to anypony that came near.
I summoned the hydra from its dormant station guarding the precious mystifying relics I’d collected over the years. It wasn’t happy in seeing me, but the fresh air and muck made it rush off. I didn’t even have to give it a direction to go, for it somehow knew to hunt the timberwolves. Or it simply wanted to play. It’s hard to tell when all four heads have differing expressions.
This time I knew it would succeed. I sat at the edge of town, drinking a cup of tea, and waited for the show. I would hear the howling of the wolves soon enough, I had no doubt. The town would be saved.
On a technicality, I was right. The hydra returned, and the faces all shared the same sentiment. Tears and sorrow. Never before did it cower or show affection to me, yet after venturing into the swamp, its attitude changed. I tried to comfort it best I could, and I eventually returned it to its place guarding my artifacts. The villagers were more than a little shocked and scared at this point.
I became stern, however. Thinking of you, Rockhoof, I summoned my strength and trudged into the swamp, ready to deal with whatever power the timberwolves had gained. I knew I might fail, I knew I might end up running and crying much like the monsters I unleashed. But I had to try.
And until today, I think I always remained a little fearful of timberwolves, as the mystery behind their sorcery was just that. A mystery. I found a tall knoll in the middle of the mud and muck. I had no explanation for the terribly large hole in the center. There were no timberwolves, though their burrow still stood out from the crater. It was as though a giant creature erupted from the ground, defeating all my monsters.
I returned to the village and told them their problem was taken care of. They thanked me, cheered for my success, though I did not stay or claim it as my own. I took my things and fled as quickly as I could, condemning the village for a time until I could gather the other Pillars and return. Unfortunately, upon my homecoming I discovered Stygian’s benevolent theft, assuming it to be malicious. From there, we came to Limbo, and the timberwolf mystery remained locked in the recesses of my mind, gone and forgotten.
“Had I the forethought to venture out myself rather than putting all my figurative eggs into the basket I chose, maybe I could’ve helped the timberwolves and you. Hearing such a story, I can’t believe how small the world was back then—and how much more it’s grown,” Star Swirl said.
“You were the monster all along!” Rockhoof let out a hearty laugh, startling the wolves around him. “I can’t believe it. Ol’ Rockhoof and a pack of timberwolves defeating the brilliant Star Swirl! You should be glad that story wasn’t around back then. All the tribes would’ve heard it! It'd be a legend by now!”
Star Swirl tugged on his beard. “Yes, well, I am glad this trip has filled a gap in both our histories.” He noted the angry looks the timberwolves gave him, but Rockhoof settled them down quickly. “These certainly aren’t the same beasts from back then. I wonder if they really do pass down their tales like we ponies do.”
“Most certainly!” Rockhoof replied as he went to the table, returning with a hoofful of onions. “These beauts prove it.” He lifted it to a wolf, and the wooden teeth came crunching down. “I think we’ve got time to hang around their festival, right, Star Swirl? How’s about we play defeat the hydra?”
Furrowing his brow, Star Swirl didn’t like the sound of that. “Let me guess who the hydra is—” Of course, he didn’t get the chance to guess before a nauseating smell erupted up his nostrils. He choked for a moment, covering his muzzle, and his eyes watered to the point of blurriness. “For the love of ponykind, I am truly sorry to that hydra.”
Rockhoof pushed aside the wolves and grabbed Star Swirl, holding him by the shoulders. Star Swirl could smell the terrible breath as Rockhoof spoke. “I do appreciate you, Star Swirl. You make the right decisions more often than not. Coming out here with you, I’ve got a new story to tell. I don’t think I could’ve asked for a better gift from a good friend!”
“Well, I’ve learned a lot about friendship since our return. I’m sorry it took so long for me to try and reconnect with you outside of saving Equestria. To be honest—hearing about you trying to turn into stone, I thought it was my fault. My failure in seeing Stygian’s true intentions hurt us all, and hurt you more than any of us. We’re here in a time unfamiliar to us, and it’s my fault. I’m truly sorry.”
With an enormous hug, Rockhoof held tight around Star Swirl. “Aye, but at least I know I’m not alone. Not when I’ve got a friendship that lasts ages.”
