Sandbar arrived at the park bench shortly after dinner. Since he and Yona started dating, they had become fond of taking peaceful walks through the Everfree Forest, enjoying the serenity it now offered. Once a dangerous place of wild magic and wilder creatures, it had grown quiet in the past few months. So, after its extensive survey by head-mare Twilight Sparkle, a small area was set aside as a public park, a stone’s throw away from the centre of Ponyville.
Despite being close to the Friendship School, it wasn’t an especially busy place. From what Sandbar understood, most Ponyville citizens still felt apprehensive about it. With the onset of winter on the horizon, there were even fewer reasons for ponies to venture there. And, if he were honest, he preferred it that way. It wasn’t because he was doing anything naughty or illegal, of course. He just preferred some time alone with his special somepony – or, in this case, a special yak.
Sandbar adored learning all about yak culture from Yona, and she was happy to oblige. She talked about everything from ritual dances to traditional yak hay, eager to compare her own society to that of Equestria. There was one topic, however, that she never brought up for comparison: gender.
Being transgender was an open secret between Sandbar and his friends. Most of the time, there wasn’t a need to talk about it. By all outward appearances, he was male, and if every creature around him used masculine pronouns, he was content to leave the topic alone.
On the off chance it did come up, however, he wasn’t against discussing it. He was attending a friendship school, after all. Understanding diversity was kind of the point. Although, he did prefer to keep his status as trans on a need-to-know basis. He got enough fuss about it back home!
“Sandbar?” Yona’s voice, along with a rather dramatically waved hoof, broke his daydreaming. “Equestria to Sandbar, Yona here!”
“I see you Yona, don’t worry,” he smiled and leant forward to kiss her.
“What Sandbar thinking about?” Yona sat down next to him.
“Oh, nothing much,” Sandbar pulled Yona in close. “Just school stuff. We’re covering so much in our lessons, it’s a lot to take in sometimes, even with notes.”
She leant into his hug, resting her head on his shoulder. “It worth it, though. Yona got to meet Sandbar, and make lots of friends! Yona doesn’t have lots of friends back home.”
Sandbar gave Yona a quizzical look. “What, back in Yakyakistan? Why wouldn’t you have friends there? You’ve got so much energy and enthusiasm for everything! That makes you awesome in my book.”
Yona smiled and kissed Sandbar on the cheek. “Yona glad Sandbar think so. Yona not know much about pony book, but Yona know how strict yak culture was. Not many wanted friendship school, or talk about non-yak stuff.”
“Well, you’re here, aren’t you? You’re showing the vale of pony friendships, so that’s gotta count for something, right?”
“Yeah… Yona think Sandbar right,” she smiled, meeting his gaze and giving him a small nuzzle. “Yona loves Sandbar.”
“I love you too,” Sandbar returned it.
“Oh! That remind Yona of something,” breaking away, she fumbled around in her mane and pulled out a letter, addressed to him. “Happy trans-iversary, Sandbar!”
Sandbar gave Yona a blank stare. Transiversary? What does she-? Then, it clicked. Of course! How could he forget? This was the anniversary of his magical transition – three years ago, in fact.
“Yona…” he began, rotating the envelope in his hooves, momentarily lost for words. “Thank you for the gift, but what is this?”
“Open it,” Yona beamed. “It something really special, from Yona to Sandbar.”
That didn’t really answer my question. Sandbar looked down at the rough, wax seal on the back. It was distinctly marked with Yona’s hoofprint, intentionally or not. Breaking it, Sandbar unfolded the letter.
Dear Sandbar, it read with surprising clarity. Yona’s mouthwriting was getting better. Yona Yak extends biggest invitation to Hearth’s Warming Y.O.N.A festival!
Sandbar looked up at Yona with a confused expression. “I thought your birthday was in April?”
“Not Yona’s birthday, silly!” she chuckled. “Keep reading.”
Now reading aloud, Sandbar continued, “Yakken Open North Air festival is biggest Yak party of year! For first time ever, Y.O.N.A fest open to all races, ponies included. Does creature want part in Yak culture? Then creature as welcome as any Yak. Traditional yak food, drink, and activities all be around for every creature to enjoy.”
“So?” Yona asked after a moment’s pause. “What Sandbar think? Sandbar want in?”
“Yona, I…” the words caught in Sandbar’s throat, a small tear rolling down his face.
Her expression dropped, eyes going wide. “Sandbar no like?”
“No,” he shook his head and met her gaze. Before she could respond, he flung himself over her, pushing her down over the bench through the force of his tackle-hug. “I don’t like it, I love it! I would be honoured to go, Yona. How can I thank you for a gift like this?”
“Yona no need thanks,” she smiled back, returning the hug with equal force, kissing her colt friend on the lips. “Sandbar’s happiness all the thanks Yona needs. Though, can Yona make one request?”
“Of course,” Sandbar dried his eyes with his hoof. “Anything.”
“Can Sandbar wear best ribbon? Dress up not needed if not wanted, but Yona loves best ribbon.”
“Consider it done,” Sandbar rubbed his cheek against Yona. “I feel so special, having a partner such as you.”
“Yona feel special with Sandbar, too,” she closed her eyes, letting the warmth of her coltfriend’s body relieve the tension in her muscles.
Sandbar shared this unspoken feeling. Yona’s fur was softer than any blanket he’d felt before, so much that he could almost melt into it. For the next few minutes, the two lovers just laid on the bench together, with only the sound of their gentle breathing to disturb the forest stillness. Alas, their relaxation couldn’t last forever. All too soon, the chill of the winter breeze rekindled Sandbar’s awareness of time.
“Think we should head back to the dorms, now?” Sandbar said, shivering a little.
“Oh, of course,” Yona blushed. “Sorry, Yona forget pony fur is thinner.”
“Well, if you ever need a haircut,” he grinned, playfully nudging her, “I could always use a Yak-fur coat.”
“No!” Yona sat up suddenly, almost knocking Sandbar off the bench. “Yona never shave Yak fur! Fur makes what Yak are. Yak make special coats, but not with yak hair!”
“H-hey, relax,” Sandbar stuttered, holding his hooves up in protest. “I was just joking. I like your fur well enough where it is.”
“Oh,” Yona’s expression softened as she averted her gaze. “Sorry. Yona still not good with sarcasm stuff.”
“Don’t worry,” Sandbar raised Yona’s hoof and kissed it, his smile gentle. “In fact, that’s why I’m so happy about my festival invitation.”
Yona tilted her head. “What Sandbar mean?”
“It’s a chance to get to know you, and your culture, better! Think of it as an out-of-school-hours field trip.”
“Yona… likes that idea,” she exhaled slowly, relaxing her posture before hopping off the bench. With a long yawn, she stretched her limbs, then offered her forehoof back to Sandbar. “Yona find nice coat for Sandbar at festival. Is now time for sleep?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” standing up, Sandbar took Yona’s forehoof, and the two began their trot back to the school dorms.
As they retraced their steps along the trail, he thought back to his ribbon. He couldn’t quite explain why, but he felt somewhat off about wearing it to a yak festival – although he didn’t vocalise this worry. His night out had been brilliant, and he wouldn’t dare to ruin the moment with misplaced emotions.
I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just nerves. I’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.
As the days rolled on and the nights grew longer, the first semester at Twilight Sparkle’s School of Friendship wound to its conclusion. Both Sandbar and Yona shared their final class, with Applejack providing the lecture about storing food over winter.
Unfortunately, Sandbar couldn’t focus. Most of what Applejack discussed went completely over his head. His mind was elsewhere, consumed by worries over Y.O.N.A fest tomorrow. Even something as simple as a ribbon, a thin strip of fabric tied into a bow, carried so many feminine connotations in his mind. He could hardly imagine the yaks not noticing.
Since moving to Ponyville, enlisting in the Friendship School had been his chance to start afresh. It was his chance to be more open about himself, free from the endless barrage of transphobic jeers from Baltimare teens. Thanks to both Yona and his circle of close friends, he’d thought that, at long last, he could leave such worries behind. But now, at the prospect of experiencing Yakyakistan culture firsthoof, they’d sprouted anew.
He had yet to disclose this fear to Yona. In the grand scheme of things, wearing a bow was unlikely to make him the social pariah. Plus, as before, he didn’t want to put a damper on her excitement – especially over something that was, in his mind, petty nonsense. She never cared about strict gender roles, so why would any yak?
Sandbar let out a small sigh. He wanted to trust Yona, he really did. He just couldn’t stop worrying that, no matter how small a percentage, the chance of transphobia was greater than zero.
Maybe I should talk to Guidance Counselor Starlight, first? Though I could also ask Smoulder. If any creature knows about hiding femininity, it’s her.
The sharp ring of the school bell dissolved his mental labyrinth. “Now, don’t forget your holiday homework, y’all,” Applejack announced as the students packed up. “Study your kitchen space, an’ note down as much as ya can about where you keep your leftovers.”
“Oh, this will be super fun!” Yona trotted on the spot, though at the speed she was going, it was more like a stationary gallop. Her smile was so wide, Sandbar knew he’d get top marks in Professor Pinkie’s Party Planning class. “Yona can’t wait to show everything to bestest coltfriend. There be Yak dancing, Yak music, Yak poetry…”
“Hey, hey, take it easy,” Sandbar chuckled, though in truth, he loved seeing Yona get so excited. Her boundless enthusiasm was enough to brighten anypony’s day, even if she did get carried away sometimes. “Save some of that energy for the festival.”
“Did someone say festival~?” the familiar sing-song voice of Silverstream drew Sandbar’s attention to the hallway. His other three friends—Gallus, Ocellus, and Smoulder, respectively—were not far behind, all of whom were looking at him with varying amounts of intrigue.
“Did friends not get Yona’s invitation?” her head tilted a bit as she and Sandbar approached them.
They all looked at each other for a moment, all sharing the same, confused expression, as if expecting one of them to know about it. But none of them did, so they all just collectively shrugged.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Silverstream said. “We haven’t received any letters recently. Maybe they got lost in the mail?”
Yona shook her head. “Yona put letters under friends’ pillows. No mail pony needed.”
“Wait, did you say, ‘under our pillows’?” Gallus rubbed his chin and hummed for a moment. “Now that I think about it, I did notice an envelope slip out the other morning.”
“Then why Gallus not tell Yona?” her voice grew tenser with every syllable, her ears falling flat against her head. “Does Gallus not like letters?”
“Relax a little, would you, Yona?” Gallus’ wings reflexively flared out. “I didn’t know it was from you since the ink was all smudged. If I’d known it was yours, I would’ve told ya ASAP.”
“Sorry,” Yona slumped her shoulders back and hung her head. “This festival super important to Yona. Yona want all friends to come.”
“Who said anything about not going?” Smoulder stepped forward and placed a claw on Yona’s shoulder. “It’s not like we celebrate Hearth’s Warming in the dragon lands, anyway. So, a winter getaway sounds great to me!”
“My thoughts exactly,” Gallus added, folding his wings back. “I’ve no idea what a Yak festival will involve, but anything’s better than counting bits back in Griffonstone.”
“Knowing Yona, it probably involves a lot of smashing,” Silverstream gave Yona a playful nudge.
Yona gasped in an overly dramatic fashion. “How did Silverstream know?!” This got a good laugh out of her friends, all except for Ocellus.
“Um…” she spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper. If it weren’t for Gallus’ excellent hearing, none of them would’ve noticed. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can come.”
Yona blinked as her friends fell silent, turning her attention to the now red-faced changeling. “What wrong, Ocellus?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to, but Hearth's Warming has become quite important to changelings,” she crossed her forelimbs, avoiding eye contact with Yona. “We haven’t had independence long, from Queen Chrysalis, I mean. We all want to make the most of holidays we missed out on before. I know you must be disappointed.”
There was a moment of silence among the group, until Yona stepped forward and cleared her throat. “Yona not lie, Yona disappointed.” Sitting in front of Ocellus, she leant forward and embraced her in a gentle hug. “But Yona not here to take away from family. Ocellus can do what Ocellus feels best.”
“Yona, I…” Ocellus sniffled, drying her eyes with her hoof before returning the hug. “Thank you. It may not be much, but you’re always welcome to spend Hearth's Warming at my hive.”
“Alternatively,” Sandbar spoke up, clapping his front hooves together. “You could bring your hive to Yakyakistan! You’d make it a bigger cross-cultural visit.”
“Now that you mention it,” added Gallus, “I could convince my griffon neighbours to set up a scone-shop, or something. There’s no way they’d resist the allure of cold, hard cash.”
“Now you’re speaking my language!” Smoulder rubbed her claws together and licked her lips deviously. “Hey, Gallus, you got any gems up for grabs? ‘Cause if dragons will pay serious bits for anything, it’s some delicious gemstones.”
“How much are we talking?” Gallus grinned, his eyes agleam.
“Hey, not to break up your haggling,” Silverstream interjected, “but wasn’t this conversation about Yona and Ocellus? You’re kind of stealing their thunder.”
“Yona not mind,” she replied, losing none of her cheer as she returned her attention to Ocellus. “Yona happy friends take interest in yak festival. Yona will make sure to write postcard, so Ocellus not feel lonely. Yona know it will get changelings interested!”
“I…” Ocellus glanced between her friends. “I don’t know what to say. You’ve just made my Hearth’s Warming. Thank you.”
“Hey, room for one more in that hug?” Sandbar asked with a wink, but he already knew the answer. Ocellus and Yona extended one forelimb each, inviting their remaining friends to pile in. As he snuggled in between Yona and Smoulder—the latter of whom normally hated public displays of affection—he reflected on his earlier fears. How trivial such concerns were, in light of the dazzling display of support from his friends. He was going to wear that bow with pride, and with kind hearts all around, he was certain everything would play out for the best.
“Hey, y’all,” Applejack cleared her throat, making Sandbar jump. “Not objectin’ to your group hugs or anythin’, but could ya maybe take it to the dorms? Where you’re not blockin’ the hallway?”
The day was finally upon him, and to say Sandbar was nervous would’ve been an understatement. Besides his ribbon, he hadn’t packed any more feminine clothes. By the end of the day, he would be neck-deep in yak culture, and his mind kept flip-flopping about their potential for trans acceptance. It was a loop of intrusive thoughts that had been running all week, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake the anxiety over Yona’s parents rejecting him.
He could tell himself it would be okay until he was blue in the face, for all the difference it made. The thought had latched onto his mind, and now it was all he could do to not shudder. It’s just a case of cold hooves, he reassured himself, noting the irony of that saying. I’ll relax once I’m there.
For now, there was nothing more to do but wait for his friends to arrive. Maybe I should invest in some winter boots, he thought, attempting to distract himself. The weather’s not getting warmer, that’s for sure. As the train’s whistle chimed in the distance, Sandbar turned just in time for a different force of nature to distract him: Yona’s trademark tackle-hug.
“Morning Sandbar!” she giggled, having lost none of her recent energy.
“Morning Yona,” Sandbar replied, slightly muffled behind a face full of Yona fluff.
“Is Sandbar as excited as Yona is today?” She shuffled so much on the spot, she melted the snow beneath her.
“Sure am!” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. More of a half-truth. At this point, Sandbar was starting to feel like he was stuck in a time loop. Same emotions, same reaction, same reasoning for not telling Yona. Maybe I should talk about it on the train, he considered, but rejected it a moment later. Instead, he decided to change the topic. Turning to face the tracks, he cuddled closer to Yona and said, “I do feel a bit under-dressed for the weather, though.” He gestured toward his jacket: a long-sleeved, padded anorak that matched the colour of his mane.
“If Sandbar cold, Yona will get Sandbar new coat in Yakyakistan, like Yona said other day. Sandbar remember?”
“Oh, yeah, those…” Sandbar chuckled, avoiding eye contact. “Can’t wait to get on the train and out of the snow, that’s for sure. I’d prefer not to freeze before we reach Yakyakistan!”
“Sandbar not need to worry,” Yona leant in and nuzzled Sandbar’s cheek. “Yona make sure hugs keep Sandbar warm.”
“Just the way I like it,” he returned her affection. “By the way, are the others coming soon? The train’s almost here.”
“Oh, Yona forgot to say, friends making own way tomorrow.”
“Wait, what?” Sandbar did a double take, his nervous fidgeting gone. “Why, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing wrong,” Yona smiled, seemingly oblivious to Sandbar’s sudden reaction. “Friends want Yona and Sandbar to have date time together, give us space to see festival activities.”
“Awww, well that’s just…” Sandbar trailed off and looked away, hoping Yona hadn’t picked up on his sudden onset of sarcasm. Besides, why did he have to sound so annoyed? His friends were being considerate since, technically, they’d invited themselves!
“Sandbar?”
“Great!” he concluded, putting on his best fake smile. “Yeah, why didn’t I think of that? We were all going to split up anyway, and now we’ve got more time to find their Hearths Warming gifts.”
“Oh, okay,” Yona said with a blank expression. “Sandbar, what—”
If she said anything more, he didn’t hear. The train arrived with the loud hiss, steam rushing out the safety valve. Saying nothing else after, Sandbar grabbed Yona by the hoof and, no sooner than the guard unlocked the doors, dragged her inside.
“So, what should we do first when we get there?” Sandbar hastily changed topics.
“Sandbar…”
“Maybe we should focus on the gifts I mentioned! Something shiny for Smoulder, that’s for sure!”
“Sandbar.”
“Silverstream will need something water-proof, as well. What do you think will—”
“Sandbar, listen!”
The silence that followed was the most awkward in his life. Never did he expect to be the centre of attention for a partner yelling at him.
“Sandbar not happy,” Yona said in a flat, yet not unkind manner. “Yona not stupid. Yona can see Sandbar upset. Please, talk to Yona.”
Sandbar let out a dejected sigh and slumped back in his seat. “Alright, you’ve got me. I was looking forward to travelling with our friends. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate their gesture, for sure. But it’s all so sudden, it just… hurts, you know?”
Yona narrowed her eyes. Whether she knew Sandbar was still telling half-truths, he didn’t know. Her response, however, was anything but ambiguous. As she had done on the park bench just a few days before, Yona reached over and pulled him in, resting his head on her chest.
“Yona knows feeling,” she said. “Favour supposed to be nice, but little voice say it bad, still. Yona try to ignore little voice, but not always successful. Sandbar should relax during train journey. Sandbar and Yona both see friends tomorrow, have lots of fun. Sandbar special to Yona, so remember, Sandbar can talk anything with Yona, yes?”
Despite the simplicity of her speech, Sandbar couldn’t deny a certain eloquence to it all. Perhaps it was best to ignore that niggling little voice that told him the yaks would be transphobic. Yona was certainly right about one thing: getting that voice to shut up was one of the most difficult tasks any creature could do.
“I love you,” he said. Closing his eyes, he focused on the combined rhythms of the moving train and Yona’s heartbeat.
“Yona loves Sandbar, too,” she replied, kissing him on the forehead and petting his mane. “Don’t forget it. Long train journey ahead, so sleep for now.”
She needn’t have said. Sandbar had already drifted off, breathing steadily as he snuggled against her.
Briefly changing trains at the Crystal Empire, Sandbar and Yona were, at last, on the final leg of their journey. Though Sandbar slept through most of it, he awoke with plenty of time to admire the incredible mountain views from his carriage window. Through long cuttings, tight curves and steep hills, the double-ended steam locomotive chuffed like there was no tomorrow.
It was a true marvel of engineering, a testament to the cooperation between ponies and yak which, at least for the moment, banished all intrusive thoughts from his head. “To think, this whole line was constructed in under two years – opening the same week as the friendship school.”
“Sandbar right, train is incredible!” Yona replied, leaning over to get her own look at the view, rubbing her cheek against Sandbar’s in the process. “Yona never been on train before friendship school. Yona so happy to see such beautiful sights,” she turned to look at him directly. “With other beautiful sight.”
“What, where?” Sandbar whipped his head back and forth, only to stop abruptly at Yona’s chuckling.
“Yona meant Sandbar, silly!” she snorted, trying so hard not to break out into hysterical laughter, which Sandbar was thankful for. He’d had enough public embarrassment for one day.
“Aww, shucks, Yona,” he turned bright red. “Your homeland is incredible, so it’s nice to know I can compete.”
“Sandbar no need to compete,” Yona declared with a hoof in her heart. “Sandbar special enough on own, just like Sandbar’s home in Ponyville.”
“You can be really sappy when you want, you know that?” he grinned and jabbed a hoof in her direction. “Careful not to say that stuff around Smoulder. She’ll start gagging like no tomorrow!”
“Yes,” Yona nodded in agreement. “That’s why Yona say it now, not when Smoulder is around.”
“There is one thing we can do when they’re around,” his smile widened, and before she could respond, he stole a quick kiss. “That.”
“Is that what Ponies call ‘cheeky’?” Yona idly tapped her hooves together.
“You’re learning fast,” Sandbar leant in for another, only to be interrupted by the crackling voice of the conductor’s intercom.
“Attention all passengers, the next stop will be Yakyakistan, our final stop. When you leave the train, please make sure you have all personal belongings with you. Once again, this is Yakyakistan central, where this train terminates.”
“We’re here, we’re here!” Yona exclaimed, bouncing in her seat excitedly. “Yona can’t wait to introduce Sandbar to family. Yona know they will love Sandbar!”
I sure hope so. Sandbar’s heart was racing now, he could feel it beating in his chest. Well, no time like the present. Collecting his backpack and holding Yona’s hoof, he made his way out.
Despite having just one platform, Yakyakistan station was a huge structure. Through a combination of pine wood and heavy stone slabs, the yak had managed to create towering archways in perfect semi-circles. Long banners were unfurled from the rafters, presenting crochet depictions of various activities associated with the Y.O.N.A fest.
“Does Sandbar have idea on what to try first?” Yona asked, noticing his captivation with the advertisements.
“I’m not sure yet,” he answered absent-mindedly, his attention still glued to the banners. “I’d prefer to mooch around the stalls first, and get myself a better winter coat.”
“Then Yona knows perfect place!” she lurched forward, breaking into a canter so suddenly, she almost pulled Sandbar off his hooves.
Though the train hadn’t been particularly busy, the crowd around the Yakyakistan gates was the complete opposite. Shadowed by the giant, shield-carrying yak sculptures against the setting sun, hundreds of stalls lined the snow-covered path, selling everything from traditional yak pancakes to arms and armour.
Despite being the first yak festival open to all cultures, the crowd was almost entirely yak. While he could spot the odd griffon or two, as far as Sandbar was aware, he was the only pony in Yakyakistan. That made him the odd one out.
He doubted any yak would care. It wasn’t like they’d never seen ponies before, not since Pinkie Pie became a regular visitor. And yet, he still couldn’t shake the feeling of others staring at him, whispering things behind his back. No creature spared him so much as a second glance, but somehow that made it worse. Were they looking at his ribbon? He wasn’t decked out in full make-up and fancy dress or anything, but this small dash of feminine—on an otherwise masculine-presenting colt—made him stick out like a sore hoof even more.
He could feel his breath quickening. So many yaks in one place. So many potential whispers. They’d spread like wildfire. He knew he shouldn’t have worn the ribbon.
But it was Yona’s request!
No, it was like painting a target on his back. Soon, all Yakyakistan would start to question his gender, and then…
“Ah, over here!” Yona’s proclamation, and subsequent charge into the crowd, broke through Sandbar’s mental haze. He didn’t (and couldn’t) see to what, or whom, she was referring to. All he saw was the mass of yak bodies, of which he was now barrelling toward with reckless abandon.
Yet amidst his repeating mantra of ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry, coming through’, he barely touched a hair on another yak’s body – despite not knowing where one yak ended and another began. They all seemed to shift and flex away from one another, in a method that Sandbar likened to magnetically repellent forcefields, like the kind he’d seen depicted in the Power Ponies comics.
Approaching the stall, the owner’s gaze snapped toward him and Yona, her eyes lighting up like a hearth’s warming tree. “Hey, Yona!” she called, waving to get her attention. She looked almost identical to Yona, save for being just a couple inches taller, and keeping her reddish mane tied in a topknot. “Over here, Yona!”
“Yona can see Yixa,” she said as she skidded to a halt, just shy of crashing into the stall. Reaching over the counter, she gave Yixa a hoof-bump. “It been so long. How Yixa doing?”
“Yixa well, made many sales already,” she turned her attention toward Sandbar. “A pony? In Yakyakistan? That certainly is new. Pony know Yona?”
“Um… hi,” Sandbar’s hooves were already shaking, and his face was redder than the school cafeteria’s tomato soup. So, taking a deep breath, he blurted out his introduction. “My name is Sandbar and I’m Yona’s coltfriend and my pronouns are he and him and it’s nice to meet you!”
Yixa tilted her head back and forth, looking at Sandbar like his head was on backwards. “What ‘pronouns’ mean?”
“It means Sandbar is a boy,” Yona pulled her shivering partner in close. “Sandbar and Yona on date together, first Hearth’s Warming as couple.”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant,” Sandbar chuckled awkwardly, leaning into her warm hug. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to confuse you.”
“Sandbar need not worry,” Yixa smiled. “Yixa be Yona’s sister, Yixa support Yona whoever Yona loves! This Sandbar’s first time in Yakyakistan?”
“Uh-huh,” he answered, relaxing a little. “I’m in need of a new winter coat, as this old anorak I’m wearing isn’t the warmest. Kind of need it for cold weather like this, obviously.”
“Hmm,” Yixa looked Sandbar up and down, rubbing her chin. “Yixa knows just the thing!”
Turning her back, she rummaged around amongst the long rows of fur coats, the metal hangers clanging against the railings. “Aha!” she said at last, presenting Sandbar a small, yet thick winter garment. It was a burnished yellow in colour, almost golden, with large white buttons to be slid through fabric hoops on the other side. “This be Yixa’s fanciest coat in pony size. It normally for younger yak, but if Yixa’s guess is right, it should be perfect fit for Sandbar.”
His jaw dropped. He’d seen some exquisite fur coats in the Carousel boutique before, but this was something else! He often found the texture of winter wear to be course and itchy, but this one was smooth as silk, almost seamless. In addition, it came with four, deep pockets—two on the outside and two smaller inside—reminding Sandbar of the iconic Trottingham trench coats.
As magnificent as it was, something about the colour raised a red flag in Sandbar’s mind. It was that niggling self-doubt again, identifying yellow as a traditionally feminine colour. It was his favourite, but Yixa didn’t know that. Had his insistence on stating pronouns inform Yixa he was trans? Did Yixa not believe him, giving him a feminine colour deliberately, as if to say, ‘You’re not fooling anyone, pretending to be a boy!’
“What wrong?” Yona asked, noticing how Sandbar’s mouth was hanging open. “Sandbar not like it?”
“Yixa can get different colour if Sandbar wants,” Yixa added, reaching to take the coat back. “Yixa got lots of different coats.”
“Oh, no, it’s perfect!” he almost yanked the coat back, but restrained himself. Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath and forced himself to smile. What kind of guest would he be, rejecting such a generous gesture? Rarity would be ashamed! “Other colts tend to prefer reds, greens, and blues – which is fine, of course. But yellow is my favourite. How much do you want for this?”
“If Sandbar happy, Yixa give one-time pony discount,” she sat back and clapped her hooves together. “Twenty-five bits, how that sound?”
“Wow,” he replied, shoving his hoof into a pocket and rummaging around for his wallet. Normally, a coat of this quality would cost him fifty bits or more, so this price wasn’t just a bargain, it was practically a steal!
Before he could count his change, Yona slid off her backpack, retrieved her coin purse and poured exactly two dozen-and-one pennies into the counter. “Yona happy to pay. Sandbar is guest, after all! Think it as extra Hearths Warming gift, as thank you for coming so far with Yona.”
“Yona, you don’t have to. I…” Sandbar tried to think of an excuse, but none could come to mind. Clearly, Yona had taken many notes in Rarity’s classes! While he didn’t feel like he’d earnt such a treat, neither did he want to start an argument in front of Yona’s sister. “Thank you, Yona. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“Sandbar not need to make up anything,” Yona ruffled his mane. “Sandbar done enough by being here, and loving Yona.”
“And I do,” he leant in and kissed her. “Very, very much.”
“Awww, how sweet,” Yixa said. “Yixa love to chat, but Yixa got lots of customers waiting. Catch up later with both Yona and Yona’s coltfriend?”
“I’d love to,” Sandbar said as he slipped on his new fur coat. “Best wishes for the rest of your sales.”
“Bye, Yixa!” Yona waved before turning away. “See Yixa at dinner.”
With the yak’s miraculous powers of avoidance, Sandbar could focus less on navigation and more on his new coat. It’d been a long time since he’d worn something so comfortable, but that wasn’t the part that bugged him.
Gee, it’s almost as if irrational fears are, y’know, irrational, he berated himself internally. Well, at least one yak never thought to question my fragile masculinity. On the other hoof, she’s Yona’s sister, so maybe her family is more progressive?
“So, now that Sandbar has new coat,” Yona said, “what Sandbar want to do next?”
He thought back to the tapestry banners he’d seen hanging at the station. He didn’t get a good look at them, so he remembered few details. However, the freezing bite of the mountain wind—even with his heavy coat—helped him decide his preference for activities.
“Perhaps we could go somewhere warm, first?” he suggested, leaning closer to Yona. “The coat is nice and all, but I’m still not used to extreme cold. So, anywhere within shelter would be great.”
“Well, Sandbar in luck!” Yona proclaimed, turning toward the main Yakyakistan gates. “Only shopping stalls be outside. Plenty of room inside for traditional yak dancing, yak music, yak war paint…”
“Wait, war paint?!” Sandbar balked, his eyes going wide. “I thought the Yak Chieftain didn’t declare war on Equestria?”
“No, silly!” Yona chuckled, slapping his back lightly. “Yak no make war in hundreds of years. War paint is ancient yak tradition, done to look cool or fearsome. It like pony face-paint or makeup.”
Sandbar breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good. Sorry, I don’t mean to offend.”
“It no problem,” Yona smiled, kissing his raised hoof. “Yona know Sandbar still learning about yak culture. Yona not mind if Sandbar not understand thing or two.”
Sandbar blushed, his heart fluttering. “Thanks for your patience. War paint sounds like fun, actually! I can put my few makeup skills to good use. But…”
“But?” Yona prompted. “Is there problem?”
Sandbar shook his head, once more banishing his darker thoughts. “No, it’s nothing. I’m looking forward to this, so, lead the way!”
Yona narrowed her eyes for a moment, but didn’t press the issue. Instead, she walked on with Sandbar in silence, allowing him to take in the full atmosphere of the festival. It was too noisy to make out any one conversation, but he could still pick out a few phrases here and there. Both yak and griffon alike were laughing, drinking, and enjoying each other’s company.
Most importantly, he noted, they were not laughing at him. Relax, Sandbar, he thought, though his attempt at self-comfort was shot down right away: They haven’t noticed you, yet.
“Hey, Sandbar?” Yona asked. Her gentle voice and warm smile dispelling his crushing anxiety like they always have. “When friends come tomorrow, Sandbar want to come with Yona on full Yakyakistan tour? So all friends get to know yak history better.”
He smiled back. “I like that idea, but they might arrive later, as we did. We should check that they aren’t not too cold.”
“Huh, Yona not think of that,” she stopped for a moment to scratch the back of her head, glancing up at the gate-guarding statues. “Good thing Sandbar here. Yona easily forget what it like to be very cold.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Sandbar gripped her hoof a little tighter. “If nothing else, they’ll have both you as an amazing guide, and your sister to sell amazing coats!”
Yona giggled. “Sandbar really know how to give compliments, huh?”
“I learn from the best,” he raised her hoof and kissed it gently. “So, where do we go for war painting?”
“Not far!” Yona pointed to a hut somewhere to the left of her. From where he stood, Sandbar couldn’t tell one house from another, but there was no time for questions. She was already off, pulling him along at breakneck speed.
Sandbar didn’t know what she’d eaten lately, but whatever it was, it didn’t leave her short on energy! He made a mental note to ask Pinkie Pie about it after the holidays, as he could use that boost for Rainbow Dash’s gym class.
Pulling the door open, Yona and Sandbar stepped through the bead curtain, soon to be greeted by a small crowd of young yak sat in a semicircle. At the head of the group, facing the door, was a bulky adult yak, who looked old enough to be Yona’s father. His tattered mane was tied back into a loose ponytail, moving away hair that would otherwise cover his eyes, as was common among more masculine yak.
“Ah, more guests!” he announced, throwing his forelegs open wide. “Come in, have seat. General Yakow just beginning war paint class.”
“Y-yes sir,” Sandbar said with a nervous smile. Before him was a small pallet of inky black paint, a hoof-held mirror, and a small paintbrush. The tip was narrower than he’d expected, looking more like something for use on canvas, rather than his face. But then again, this face-paint was more viscous than powdery, so the brush type made some sense.
“Listen up, everycreature,” Yakow went on as Sandbar and Yona took their place. “War paint meant to highlight eyes and cheeks. In yak history, it used to make yak look fearsome. Today, it about yak’s inner creativity. Paint face with war ink however creature want to! Express inner yak, pony, griffon, or whatever.”
Gently, Sandbar wrapped his hoof around the brush’s handle, turning it over as he inspected it. He would need quite a bit of finesse to avoid making a fool of himself, unlike his last attempt at painting in class. Just handling the brush brought back unpleasant memories that made him shudder. Perhaps, he thought, if I treat it like a makeup brush, I can keep my hooves steady.
That prospect brought a whole new set of stomach-churning anxieties to the forefront, but it was too late to back out now. Already Yakow had announced for the class to begin, so for better or for worse, it was time for Sandbar to show his artistic side.
Glancing around the room, he saw a wide variety of patterns beginning to emerge. Two griffons, sitting to his left were the most dexterous, drawing complex spiral patterns facilitated by their talons. The ability to pinch the brush was something Sandbar envied. The best he (and yaks) could do was press it between his hoof and his wrist.
Still, that didn’t make the yak’s efforts any less skilled. Even those like Yona, who had forgone the use of brush in favour of their hooves, were more than capable of artistic flare. Instead of spirals, they drew more jagged lines, flicked back and forth into sharp-angled patterns. Blunt, yet arranged in such a way that he found captivating.
I can’t make mine too girly, but… the thought trailed off. Sandbar had already had one near-panic attack today, and he didn’t want to make a scene. Looking at himself in the mirror, he was certain of one thing: even with a long sleep over two train journeys, he still looked like he’d pulled an all-nighter. The heavy bags under his eyes and his dishevelled mane was quite far from his usual personal upkeep.
Then there was his bow, a teal green in colour, blending nicely with his coat. Fabulous, was the only word he could describe it with. Who was he kidding? He was a boy who loved girly stuff! It opened a whole world of potential self-expression for him, and there was nothing he desired more than to flaunt his femininity without fear of judgement.
But there was fear, and it held him in an icy grip, forcing him to keep one eye behind him, just in case somepony, or somecreature, decided to mock him. Then, an idea struck him.
Taking a deep breath, Sandbar dipped the brush into the ink and set to work. Slowly, he glided the brush over his cheek, drawing five consecutive chevrons until they connected, forming a star. From there, he painted several more, brushing over each of them, following the outline of his eye socket to form a crossing wave pattern. To finish off, he mirrored it on his other cheek, then drew a pair of simple little boats. With but a few deft flicks of his hoof, his work was complete.
Sandbar had not just painted a pattern on his face. He had all but drawn a scene, depicting the stars reflected on the open sea. A scene from his foalhood, sailing the waters off the coast of Boltamare with his family, years before they moved to Ponyville.
Setting down the paintbrush, Sandbar glanced over to Yona to see how she was getting on. To the surprise of no-one, she had already finished, with her attention now firmly locked on him, instead, marvelling at his designs.
“Like what you see?” he teased, making a duck face and striking a pose.
“Sandbar silly,” Yona giggled. “But also creative! Yona love Sandbar’s skill, make very pretty art.”
“Thanks, Yona,” Sandbar shifted closer to her and kissed her raised hoof. “Coming from you, that means a lot. Though I think your war-paint looks more traditional.”
Though Yona’s patterns were more abstract, they were no less skilled, an almost perfect representation of what Sandbar imagined ‘war paint’ to be. Long, thick bands of blank ink arced around her face with precise parallel perfection. Each line was placed just right to accentuate a particular area of her face: the tight spirals on her cheeks; the shallow arcs turning inwards at the base of her chin; even the sharper curves on her forehead somehow made it look bigger.
Sandbar could have easily marvelled at her hoofwork all evening, were it not for the ever-present intrusive thoughts rustling his anxiety. “Um, just to check,” he asked, his expression falling, “I’m not being culturally insensitive or anything, am I? The last thing I wanna do is insult yak customs with—”
“No, no,” Yona placed a hoof on Sandbar’s mouth, cutting him off before he could self-deprecate any further. “Sandbar no disrespect yak. Yak want creatures to explore Y.O.N.A fest in own way! Yona love Sandbar, no matter what bad stuff Sandbar says about self.”
She left him speechless. Once again, Yona had read him like a book, knowing exactly what to say before he had even finished speaking. How much did she know about his ever-present anxieties? Part of him wanted to question what she was keeping back from him, but as always, he didn’t want to make a scene. Perhaps Yona did know about his worries about transphobia, but chose not to voice them until the time was right?
Before he could reply, his attention was drawn to Yakow, who cleared his throat quietly. “Excuse Yakow,” he said in a soft voice. “Yakow just wanted to say—”
“Hey, uh, sorry, but am I interrupting something?”
Sandbar turned to see yet another creature adding his voice to the conversation, this time one of the griffon participants. He looked to be around Gilda’s age, with a hawkish looking face covered in tawny red feathers – a more pronounced shade compared to his dull, grey-coloured fur. He hadn’t painted much of his face, only covering a select few feathers to give the impression of speed lines.
“I… erm,” Sandbar stuttered and gulped, feeling very claustrophobic between two yak and a griffon. “A-am I in trouble? ‘Cause I didn’t mean to—”
“Oh, no, no trouble,” Yakow clarified, waving his hooves frantically while keeping his voice low. “Does griffon want first speaking?”
“No, it’s, erm, fine, actually,” the griffon blushed, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m not making trouble either, I’m just bad at starting conversations.”
“In that case, Yakow be brief,” he turned back to Sandbar and sat down next to him, relaxing his posture. “Yakow just wanted talk. Sandbar worried about offending yak culture, but Sandbar not need worries, as Yona said. Yak leader nearly made big mistake starting war with Ponies. Yak now know ponies had heart in right place. So, if Sandbar unsure about yak culture, Sandbar can always talk to Yakow, or Yona. Yona do great job so far, so Yakow just offer extra help, should Yona want it.”
“Yona thankful for offer of help,” she leant forward on her front hooves and bowed gracefully. “Yona not want to speak for Sandbar, but Yona absolutely want Sandbar to feel right at home.”
“You know, it’s kind of funny,” said the griffon. “I was worried about the same thing. My name’s Gustave, by the way. My sister really wanted to try this war paint thing, but I’ve gotta admit, painting over feathers sounded kinda awkward to me.”
“I can imagine,” replied Sandbar with a sympathetic smile. “I’m not in a position to judge, but for what it’s worth, I think you did great! Gives kind of a sporty vibe to me.”
“Sporty, huh?” Gustave scratched his chin. “I never thought of it that way, but yeah, I think I like that word. With yours… erm, Sandbar, was it?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Sandbar smiled, but braced himself internally. Here it comes…
“Right, Sandbar. Anyway, it’s hard to quantify my feelings with words, but I think the closest I can get to, is ‘serene’.”
“Well, actually I’m a—wait, serene?” Sandbar did a double take. While that word did well to reflect his childhood at sea, he wasn’t expecting it to be mentioned today.
“I-I don’t mean that as an insult!” Gustave sputtered, his cheeks turning bright red. “It’s a compliment, really, not like, a challenge to your masculinity, or anything. Not that there’s anything wrong about femininity, it’s just, like…aah!”
Luckily for Gustave, the other griffon noticed his awkwardness and intervened. “Relax, bro. Let me handle this one,” she slid in behind him and placed a talon on his shoulder. She shared the same colouration as Gustave, and had painted a series of lightning bolts down her face. “Hi, I’m Grenda. What my brother means to say, is that he gets a relaxing vibefrom your artwork, Sandbar. Which, I think you’ll agree, is great stuff!”
Sandbar slumped onto his forehooves and breathed an audible sigh of relief, deflating like a balloon. Had he really just been validated as a colt, by a complete stranger, no less? He was half-tempted to smack himself to prove he wasn’t dreaming.
“Thank you,” he said a moment later. “Sincerely, thank you. I spent much of my childhood at sea with my parents, but haven’t had much chance since moving to Ponyville. As much as I love my friends—and my partner, Yona, here—I do still miss the call of the waves from time to time. So, this design is kind of an addition to my cutie mark, if that makes sense.”
“It does,” Yakow nodded in agreement with the griffons. “Yak live far away from oceans, obviously. But yak know how important family is. Yakow admire Sandbar’s dedication.”
“It why Yona loves Sandbar so much,” she added, shuffling closer to cuddle with him. “Sandbar supportive of all cultures. Yona learn much from friendship school, but Yona learn even more from Sandbar!”
“Ugh, you two are just, like, sweeter than candy canes, you know that?” Gustave said with a playful chuckle. “I hope to find a boyfriend as sweet as you someday,” he looked up at his sister. “Wouldn’t you, Grenda?”
“Oh yeah, totally,” now it was Grenda’s turn to blush, her wings fluttering a little. “Though I ain’t picky about gender when it comes to love. All the same, it’s nice to meet such a loving couple all the way up here. I used to think yak were just as frigid and isolating as us griffons were— no offence, Mister Yakow.”
“None taken,” Yakow smiled.
“But, yeah, I’m glad I was wrong. My brother and I are too old for the friendship school, but who knows? Maybe we’ll send our baby cousins there someday.”
“That reminds me, actually,” added Sandbar, straightening his posture. “The rest of my friends are arriving tomorrow, Gallus being one of them. I’m sure he’d love to meet more griffons at a festival like this.”
“Oh? Another griffon? Hey, Gustave, looks like ya might be in for a date after all,” Grenda teased, poking her brother.
“Grenda!” he whined, hiding behind his talons. “We don’t even know if he’s gay! Isn’t it rude to speculate like that?”
“Hey, relax, I’m pulling your leg,” she rolled her eyes, embracing her brother and draping her wings over him. “You know I care about your happiness. Whether friend, or something more, we’ll deal with it together, ‘k?”
“Yeah, we will,” Gustave relaxed back into his sister’s embrace. “Thanks, sis.”
“Gustave and Grenda sweet, also,” added Yona. “Yona happy to be making new friends with Sandbar.”
“Yeah, same,” Sandbar concurred. “Though, if it’s alright with you folks, there’s something I want to discuss.”
“Yakow all ears,” the yak artist held his hooves in an open gesture. “Sandbar free to speak whatever on mind.”
Sandbar took a deep breath. Was he about to announce his trans status to three creatures he’d just met? Deep down, he knew he’d have to talk about it some time. By now, the anxiety had become too big to ignore. Just like with the war paint, there was something inside of him that yearned to be free, breaking the rusty chains of his past fears. Throughout his entire trip, he’d worried so much about what might be, that he was rationalising against all evidence to the contrary.
At the end of the day, he couldn’t silence those intrusive thoughts altogether. He couldn’t just clop his hooves and be rid of all memories of childhood transphobia. But there was one thing he absolutely could do: trust Yona. Every time he looked in her eyes, Sandbar saw an earnest passion shining through. She wanted him to feel safe, to enjoy his time at the festival, and now, there was a golden opportunity to talk to an adult about it.
Whether it was his official job or not, Yakow was offering the same safe space as the office of Guidance Counselor Starlight. If there was only one creature in Yakyakistan who could help, both to listen to his worries and ensure they would not come to pass, it would be Yakow. By all accounts, Y.O.N.A fest was as much about friendship as it was a celebration of yak culture.
“Alright, so,” Sandbar slowly began, juggling the words on the tip of his tongue. “You’re right in guessing I’m a colt, but it’s a bit more complicated than that. I’m a transgender colt, so I was assigned female at birth. I rarely have a reason to bring it up, but there’s something that’s been bugging me since before I got here.
“You can probably tell that I’m not the most masculine of colts. I love girly stuff, from bright colours, makeup and all that kind of thing. As you can imagine, being viewed as a girl, who wants to be a boy, but still acts girly, tends to make elementary school difficult. You know how kids are with stuff they don’t understand, right? Well, that’s left me with some deep-seeded anxieties, making me suspicious of every creature. From the moment I got Yona’s invitation, I got… well, a whole bunch of intrusive thoughts. But mostly, I’ve been afraid of being ostracised, made into an outcast for being gender non-conforming. I know, it’s awful to assume a culture will be hateful, based on your own ignorance, no less! But it’s a feeling I haven’t been able to shake.”
By now, Sandbar was gushing with emotion, his voice cracking as tears rolled down his face. “I just didn’t know what to do,” he sniffled. “I love Yona with all my heart. I couldn’t spoil this event for her, it was too important! I didn’t want to let it spoil my fun either, but that’s hard to do when you’re so neurotic. I hate it, I really do, I just… I…”
There was no holding back now. Sandbar was full-on crying, no longer caring who overheard. The rain of tears smudged the fresh ink on his cheeks, leaving long, black streaks that added to his sadness. Of course, Yona was quick to hold him close, gently rocking him back and forth as she nuzzled him.
“Yona here for Sandbar,” she said softly. “Yona not let go. Sandbar not spoil festival for Yona. Yona want Sandbar happy, and Sandbar not be happy if scared.”
“Hey, um, sorry if I upset you, Sandbar,” said Gustave sheepishly. “I really had no idea you were trans – not that it matters to me, anyway.”
“It’s alright,” Sandbar replied, calming down a little. “It’s not your fault I’m so paranoid.”
“Pal, you ain’t neurotic at all,” Grenda interjected. Her voice was firm, but not unkind, and she sat with her arms folded across her chest. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, but being a big sister to a gay teen? It ain’t hard to imagine. Furthermore, I don’t care what anycreature else thinks. Yeah, we just met, but I still think you’re cool, and wanna be your friend. I’ll stick up for you any day of the week, ‘cause that’s what friends do!”
“Grenda took words right out of Yakow’s mouth,” Yakow added with a deep, rumbling chuckle. “Yakow’s job be making ponies happy, so Yakow be straight. Yak no care much about gender. Yak can be masculine, feminine, whatever yak chooses, it all same if yak no act like jerks. If Sandbar worried about hate, Yakow will sort it out, promise.”
“See, Sandbar?” Yona smiled and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. “Creatures learning from Twilight’s friendship school, even when creatures not attend!”
“T-thank you, all of you,” Sandbar sniffled. Yakow handed him a handkerchief and he blew his nose. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to turn this event into a pity party. Words can’t express my gratitude.”
“Any time, pal,” Gustave straightened his back to take up a more confident pose. “Hey, Yakow, do you have the time? I’ve really been looking forward to tonight’s concert, and sure as heck don’t wanna miss it.”
“Concert?” Sandbar tilted his head.
“Oh, Yona forgot to mention,” she answered. “There be big concert this evening, right in centre of Yakyakistan! Band will be all traditional yak instruments, too.”
“You two wanna join us?” Grenda asked with great anticipation in her voice. “I love traditional yak music, and after the concert, I think you will, too.”
“I don’t see why not,” Sandbar smiled, speaking with a new sense of optimism. In truth, he couldn’t say no even if he wanted to. He was here to experience every aspect of Y.O.N.A fest, so why not do just that with his new friends?
“Yakow has more business here, so not go yet,” the big yak added. “But Yakow advise Sandbar and new friends go now, get good spot for when band comes on.”
“What Sandbar think?” Yona asked. “Sandbar can not go if not want to, yet.”
“Well, if you don’t mind waiting,” Sandbar blushed, his ears drooping a little. “I’d like to stay a couple minutes more, just to redo my war paint.”
One wipe and re-inking later, Sandbar’s masterpiece had been restored, all with time to spare for the concert, no less. He recalled an old hobby from his childhood: collecting vinyl records from coastal towns and cities. He’d listen to anything he could get his hooves on, but for traditional yak music, this was a first.
He'd heard Yona play bagpipes on occasion (with mixed results, if he were honest), and he’d also got a sample of yak dancing at the prom. But beyond that, he didn’t know what to expect. Of course, Yona insisted he wouldn’t forget it in a hurry, and if the evening’s events had taught him anything, a little faith in his friends could go a long way.
Soon enough, the crowd began to gather, with both yak and griffon alike piling in around the stage – yet again, without any physical contact. I need to ask Yona how they do that, he thought.
“This is gonna be so epic!” Grenda giggled, flapping her wings in excitement. “I’ve waited my whole life to see a yak band play live!”
“You know, you remind me of another friend of mine,” Sandbar said as the band began their sound check. “She’s a hippogriff, named Silverstream. She shares your boundless enthusiasm for new cultures, only turned up to eleven! You should’ve seen her face the day she discovered stairs.”
“Yona met Sandbar and Silverstream on same day,” she chimed in, leaning against Sandbar’s shoulder. “All Yona’s friends come tomorrow, but friends wanted Yona and Sandbar date time together.”
“It was a stroke of genius, really,” Sandbar looked deep into Yona’s eyes and kissed her. “I love you, Yona.”
“Yona loves Sandbar, too. Best Y.O.N.A fest ever!”
“Have I mentioned how adorable you two are?” Gustave poked Sandbar with his talon, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Seriously, I’m quite the candy connoisseur, and you two are sweeter than any I’ve tasted.”
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy in you, brother?” Grenda clasped her talon over his shoulder and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“What?!” he flicked his head back and forth between Sandbar and Grenda, his face redder than a candy apple. “I’m not—no way! When was I jealous? I never said anything about jealousy!”
“You know what, Gustave?” Sandbar looked directly into his eyes. “I hope you also find love someday. Whomever you end up with is lucky to have a kind, thoughtful soul like you.”
Sandbar didn’t think it was possible for a creature to turn this red, but somehow Gustave managed it.
“Uh, thanks, I guess,” he chuckled, tapping two talons against each other.
The loud bellow of yak horns signalled the start of the concert. “Greetings everycreature!” the lead singer boomed. “Welcome to Y.O.N.A fest, this song be ‘wolf totem’!”
With a throaty, “One, two, a-one-two-three-four,” a huge yak began pounding out a thunderous rhythm. Only the middle yak used a traditional drum kit, as those by his side played more rudimentary bongo drums.
The second the lute player started strumming, the crowd went wild, cheering at a volume that almost drowned out the band. From that very first note, Sandbar was enraptured, his jaw dropping as the traditional dancers stomped their way across the stage in perfect time. Soon enough, both he and Yona were dancing along with them, adding to the sea of moving bodies that returned the lost warmth to Yakyakistan’s cold winter night.
For Sandbar, he could think of no other place he’d rather be; dancing with Yona while trying to imitate the yak throat singing – much to her amusement. If, just three days ago, he’d been asked to describe his feelings about outing himself to the yak, his answer would’ve been anything but clear.
But now? Now, he felt as much at home in the Yakyakistan mountains as he would drifting along Equestria’s coastline. One day, he hoped, he could take Yona on a cruise, to experience the open sea’s wonders together. But for tonight, he was happy where he was, embracing all the cultural traditions that made Yona’s home so special.
The End
Author's Note
A Hearth's Warming fic? In October?! It's more likely than you think!
This story took longer to write than I anticipated, but thankfully, this meant i get to publish it in time for the 10th Anniversary of MLP:FiM! This story is my gift to the trans and non-binary communities within the fandom, to hopefully take the edge off transphobic celebrities like J.K Rowling pushing their hatred as some kind of "defence of women".
Trans rights are human rights, so if you enjoyed this story, check out one of my other stories featuring transgender characters as their central protagonists:
Sanctuary from Myself (Rated T)
