How to Make A Splash With Your Comeback

This was requested ages ago. I don't even remember what the request was. So here's a thing based on what I do remember.

>Some days, it hurts just getting out of bed.
>So, you don’t.
>You just lay in bed all day, staring at the ceiling, wondering where it all went wrong.
>Such is your life, and things had been going so well too.
>At least until you befriended Rainbow Dash.
“That jerk…”
>And got chewed out by your idol.
“Stupid Captain…”
>Rolling onto your belly, you consider punching the crap out of your pillow again when a knock comes on your door.
>“Miss Dust?”
>Great, a bellhop.
>Whatever happened to not wanting to see anybody?
>Another knock, more insistent this time.
>“Miss Dust? Are you in?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. C’mon in.”
>You slide out of the bed and clop over to the door as it opens.
>The earth pony mare on the other side gives you an uncertain frown.
>“Miss Dust, I’m here with word from the front office that if you wish to continue to stay in this establishment, you must put down another advance.”
>What?
“What?”
>Scrunching up your face, you glare at her.
 “I paid for this room for a week. I don’t owe anything.”
>With a glance to the side, the mare bites her lip before focusing back on you.
>“Miss Dust, I’m afraid that it’s already been a week since you checked in. In fact, the desk has been waiting to speak to you for two days but-”
>Gritting her teeth, she sighs.
>“-but you haven’t come down in that time.”
>What little remains of your heart drops deep into your chest.
>A week?
>You spent the whole week in this room?
>Shaking your head, you sigh.
“Right, well I don’t have enough to cover another extended stay, so I guess I’m checking out this morning.”
>The mare nods and pulls out a bill from one of her pockets.
>“You can settle things with the desk when you leave.”
“Yeah, okay.”
>Lifting your wing, you move to shut the door when the bellhop causes you to pause by holding up her hoof.
>“Miss Dust?”
“What?”
>At this point, you don’t even bother to hide the irritation in your voice, but the mare continues, undeterred.

>“I’m not certain what has brought you to the city, but you seem a little, lost.”
>What?
>This, this nosey Nancy!
 >Your lip curls.
“I’m closing the door now.”
>The mare squeals in surprise, pushing back against it.
>“W-Wait, I didn’t mean it like that!”
>Ugh.
>Relaxing your wing, you raise an eyebrow and tap your hoof a few times.
>“I just meant that, maybe you should consider looking at one of the for-hire boards down at the docks. Because we’re a port, there are a lot of exotic jobs available, especially for pegasi. If you’re looking to avoid something for a while, this is a gr-”
>You slam the door in her face, hard enough that you hear the mare whimper in surprise on the other side.
 “Serves her right.”
>With an irritated huff, you gather your meager belongings and get ready for the day.
>The day that you have to face the world again.
>As a failure.
>It’s unfortunate that you spent the week sulking, because the shower actually feels really good.
>Would have been great to use it more.
>You settle the remainder of your bill at the desk and step outside into the too bright light.
>It takes a while for your eyes to adjust, and by the time they do your stomach is rumbling.
>While you’d survived off hotel room snacks, there was an ache in your belly for something of actual substance.
>Thankfully, the area was full of restaurants.
>You end up settling in to a small dive, pondering your next move.
>The obvious answer would be to go home.
>But, to be honest, you’re not sure that you could handle the rejection.
>The looks of disappointment.
>Perhaps even disdain?
“Definitely not.”
>With a shudder, you turn your attention back to your sandwich and consider your options.
>The Wonderbolts had been, well, everything.
>With that off the table, possibly indefinitely, what was there left for you to do?
>“Hey, feather-brain.”
>You turn your head out of instinct.
>Good thing too, as one of the unicorn stallions at another table seems to be sizing you up.

>Feeling your lip curl, you sneer at him and try to brush him off.
“Yeah? What do you want?”
>His muzzle scrunches for a moment before he smirks.
>“You’ve got some pretty solid musculature.”
>Seriously?
>The compliment does little to improve your attitude.
>In fact, you hop to your hooves and clop over to him.
“Listen here, pal; I’m not in the mood for bad pick up lines, so shut your gob and let me eat in peace, okay?”
>The other ponies around the table make sounds of mock pain while the unicorn holds up a hoof and laughs.
>“Ho, ho there little filly, I didn’t mean anything like that. I just thought that you look like a heck of a flier.”
“Yeah, well, you aren’t wrong…what about it?”
>“Just wondering if you’re looking for some honest work?”
>Ugh, again?
>Rolling your eyes, you huff and turn away.
“Look, I appreciate it, but I’m really not interested in working on the water or being stuck on the ground. I was born with these wings, and I intend to use them until I can’t anymore.”
>“I completely understand.”
“Good.”
>“But I still think you’d be a good fit for the crew.”
>This stallion.
>You force a grin and glare back at him.
“Is that so? All right, I’ll humor you. Why?”
>“No nonsense attitude, a strong sense of self, and you look like you could use a challenge; but you won’t find the last one sitting around in a weather factory.”
>Ah, ouch.
>That was like your one fall back at this point, and he called you out on it.
>Resisting the urge to flinch, you trot over and cock your head to the side.
“So, what do you have for me that’s better?”
>The stallion’s eyes sparkle as he leans forward and puts his muzzle closer to yours.
>“Have you ever wrangled a wild cumulous? Or cleared out a natural squall?”
>Wild? Natural?
>The prospect of uncontrolled weather sends an unconscious shiver down your spine.
>Despite the attempt to keep your voice steady, you struggle.
“Wh-ho in their right mind would want to mess with wild weather?”

>The ship-ponies glance around and chuckle a little, the pitch stallion continuing.
>“Well, we do; that’s why we have need of good fliers. I’ve never been up there myself-”
>He makes a point of rapping a hoof against his horn.
>“but I understand that it’s an opportunity not to be forgotten. Extremely dangerous and stressful on the body-”
>Another pause as he wiggles his eyebrows at you.
>“But the payout is enormous. And it looks great on any resume, since open sky wranglers are few and far between. So, what do you say?”
>He leans back before extending a hoof to the empty seat at the table.
>“Pull your flank up here and lets talk a short-term contract?”


>There really was no choice in the matter once the details became clear to you.
>This was an amazing opportunity, one you couldn’t pass up.
>With rise of trains, the shipping business is beginning to fall on hard times.
>But rails haven’t been laid everywhere yet, and ports are still major hubs for trade and industry.
>Until that time, there ought to be room for ships.
>Captain Seaspray, the unicorn who roped you into this mess, was true to his word and set you up with lodging, steady income, and perhaps most importantly, a sense of purpose.
>After flopping out of the Academy, it’s exactly what you needed to get back on your hooves.
>Your ship, the Whippoorwill, specializes in private transportation, thus the necessary assurance that any materials which are shipped on it arrive safely, leaving you as one of three pegasi on a rotating schedule of sky clearance.
>And the job?
>It’s some of the most intense work that you’ve ever done.
>Every shift is spent up in the crow’s nest, watching for incoming inclement weather.
>The captain does well to avoid trouble where he can, but the ocean is vast and unpredictable, and you can’t always outrun or maneuver around a storm.
>That’s where you come in as the Whippoorwill’s last line of defense.
>Cloud Management.
>But it’s not as if these are the fluffy clouds you’ve been dealing with for your entire life.
>These are tough, natural clouds, the kind that spring back like cotton, held together by grit and salt.
>Worse still, they get aggressive when you get too close; the singe marks on your hooves are a sign enough of that.
>But even with that, the last four months have been some of the best you’ve ever experienced.
>Being together with the rest of the crew
>Being acknowledged for your skills
>Raking in an absolutely crazy number of bits?
>If this is what life after the Wonderbolts is like, then it might not be so bad.

>Correction.
>Life in BETWEEN the Wonderbolts.
>Despite your frustration with them, you haven’t given up.
>You can’t.
>Word has it that there’s a flying competition a couple weeks out from where you’ll be making port next.
>Seaspray’s already aware, but roped you into one last job out of obligation to the crew.
>The promise of a juicy bonus helped too.
>This time is mostly intricately designed earthenware from some kingdom out to the west.
>A few paintings and various other arts.
>Foodstuffs, of course.
>And a weird creature in a box.
>The owner even sent along a specially trained handler to see to the feeding and grooming.
>It’d be a lie if you said you weren’t interested.
>Which is why you’re currently in the belly of the Whippoorwill, slinking towards the cargo hold.
>The handler’s asleep already, or at least she should be after gorging herself at dinner tonight.
>Even in the dark, you’re able to find your way through much of the hold just by the sound of your hoofsteps.
>This place really has become almost a second home.
>So, you approach the mystery box, treading as lightly as you can manage.
>The ship creaks and groans as you stop in front of the bars.
>Despite the darkness of the hold, dim strands of moonlight break through some of the more poorly maintained slats on the deck.
>It’s not much, but enough to make out shapes.
>Like that lump in the far corner.
>You watch it for several seconds before sighing.
“Asleep, huh? How boring.”
>It would have been nice to see an exotic animal prowling around its cage.
>With a huff, you plop down in front of the bars and decide to watch it, at least for a little while.
>The lump doesn’t move at all.
>Is it even breathing?
>With no sense of hesitancy, you flutter over to the other side of the cage and give the pile under the sheet an experimental prod.
>It slowly flops to the side.
>Revealing nothing but more blankets underneath.

“…What a crock.”
>You growl, sighing and falling back on your haunches.
“There’s not even anything in there.”
>You’re back up on your hooves, tail twitching in irritation.
 “Who the heck transports an empty c-”
>…Empty cage?
>No one, that’s who.
>A chill rumbles from your snout to your hooves as you glance around the hold.
>Perking your ears up, you slow your breathing and-
>Yep.
>That’s a clatter.
>Somewhere towards the bow.
>Ducking low, you slink through the hold, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself.
>As you round a particularly large crate, you see an unnatural light.
>The warm glow is inviting, but you can’t be certain who it is that’s down here with you.
>So, with your heart pounding in your throat, you flutter up to the top of the crates and begin moving across them.
>Peering down through the darkness, you finally catch sight of the source of the light.
>A lamp, the flame flickering fitfully as it approaches the wick.
>The crate it’s nearby has been thoroughly ransacked, nuts scattered across the bottom of the ship.
>But no sign of anypony around.
>As you scrunch up your muzzle, you feel a gentle tap on your backside, and a small but urgent voice call out
>“Hey.”
>Danger, danger!
>With a frantic and entirely uncool whinny, you buck your legs backwards and spread your wings to take flight.
>Or, you would have, if your hooves hadn’t been caught by whatever it was that was behind you.
>With its incredible weight, the thing pulls you back down to the crate, successfully pinning you to the top of the box.
>Crap.
>You’re breathing hard, staring up at the weird blob on top of you.
>It has no muzzle to speak of; an entirely flat face except for a point which you can only assume is its nose.
>So incredibly alien, you find yourself gawking when you ought to be thinking up an escape plan.
>It shifts, earning a small cry from your lips as it bends one of your wings at an awkward angle.
>“Oh, sorry. Did I hurt you?”

>Grunting, the thing settles back into a squat, still holding onto your back hooves.
“J-just a pinch.”
>You still can’t fully control your lungs, but you manage to get that much out.
>It blinks at you, then smiles.
>“Well good, I’d hate for us to start out on bad terms.”
>What?
>Frowning, you look down at his… grabbers.
“If that’s the case, you can start by letting me go.”
>“Oh, I’d like to, but I can’t. See, if I let you go, you’ll use your wings to fly away.”
“Uh, duh.”
>You roll your eyes and sigh.
>So much for that plan.
>Only a few seconds later did it strike you that you could have lied to it.
>Snorting in disgust, you sit up as best you can and glare at him.
>It looks thoughtful for a moment, before releasing one of your legs.
>“Well, I guess I could, if you promise not to fly off and tell anyone I’m out of the cage.”
>…The critter!
>Somehow, you think you ought to have already known that.
>Maybe you did and just forgot in the rush of the moment.
>“Can you do that for me?”
>Yes, you can do that.
>You can fly right up and tell the captain as soon as it lets you go.
“Yeah, sure, I can agree to that.”
>Even though you say that, it’s still a little surprising when it lets go of your hoof.
>Despite every instinct shouting at you to run away, you pull your leg back and rub at it a little.
>It doesn’t look like he has wings, so aside from getting the drop on you again, once you’re out of its range, there’s no problem.
>No need to worry.
>Grinning, you let the inquisitive streak that got you into this mess in the first place take over.
“So who, er, what are you?”
>“Anonymous, human.”
>Your muzzle scrunches.
“Anonymous human? What’s an anonymous human?”
>“No, no, that’s my name.”
“What kind of name is that?”
>Anonymous Human brings a grabber to its face and sighs.
>“No, my name is Anonymous. I am a human.”

>…
>This doesn’t make any sense at all.
>Plopping your flank down on the crate, you size the thing up again.
“So what are you doing out of your cage?”
>The human points down to the mess on the floor below.
>“I got hungry. The slop I get from my handler isn’t nearly filling enough.”
>Glancing the creature over, you nod a little in agreement.
“I can see that. You’re a pretty big guy.”
>“For crying out loud, can’t I even escape that here?”
>Burying his face in his grabbers, Human gives a tired, bitter laugh.
>“You would think, an entire world away…”
>He’s pretty weird.
>Whatever.
>Weird can be cool.
>Leaning forward, you clear your throat and make eye contact with him.
>A slow smile spreads across your lips
“What do you mean ‘an entire world away’?”


“No way.”
>“Way.”
>You stifle a giggle as the human bobs his head.
>Once he took the time to explain himself, things really began to fall into place.
>His name is Anonymous, he’s a human and he comes from another world.
>How wild is that!
>Well, you can’t be sure that he’s from another world, but from the stories that he’s been telling you for the past, uh, while, it’s either true or he’s an excellent liar.
>Either way, in exchange for sharing his tales, you’ve helped him to scrounge up a little more food.
>It’s not like the manifest has to be exactly right anyway; Seaspray’s crew skims a little off the top all the time.
>Besides, who’s going to know?
>“So, anyway”
>Anonymous gulps down a mouthful of dates.
>Celestia can this critter eat!
>“With the invention of rockets, we had the opportunity to being exploring beyond the planet.”
“What, like space?”
>You give a little snort.
“Nobody goes up into space, Anonymous; not unless they’re banished to the moon.”
>“Nobody gets banished to the moon either.”
>He gives you a cheeky smile and you shake your head.
>Okay, there are some parts of his story that don’t quite check out, but that doesn’t make it any less entertaining.
>As you bite back a chuckle and try to probe him more, a heavy creak causes the two of you to fall quiet.
>It’s followed by another, and another.
>You grit your teeth.
“Darn it, somepony’s coming.”
>“Must be my butler bringing me breakfast.”
>You hold in a snorting giggle and look to the human.
“Well, I guess that our time is up.”
>“I suppose so.”
>Neither of you move for a moment.
>Then you look up at the strange creature and smile.
“Would you mind if I came back tonight and listen to you some more?”
>Anonymous shrugs.
>“Sure, as long as you agree to feed me.”
“Deal.”

>Flexing your wings, you give a small nod of your head to the human before flying off to a secluded corner and waiting for the human’s handler to pass.
>To his credit, the larger Anonymous hits the floor with hardly a sound and squirms his way back into the cage, leaving no one but the two of you aware that he got out.
>When the coast is clear, you fly up onto the deck and move to the crew cabin.
>You’ll only get a couple hours of sleep at best, but as you lie in your bed, you can feel your heart thudding away in excitement.
>Anticipation, you realize; a desire to see him again, to hear more.
>With any luck, the day will pass like a quick breeze.


“Stupid.”
>You hiss through your teeth.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
>You’re such a jinx!
>The wild wind whips by your ears, threatening to flatten them against your head.
>Tears sting at your eyes as you battle against nature itself to make forward progress, but feel yourself continually sliding backwards.
>In front of you looms the source of your frustration: a truly massive storm system that could probably cover the entire San Palomino Desert.
>The chaotic clouds grumble and shift, roiling about violently as the wind howls and the sea beneath it froths into a mad fury.
>Not even an hour after you lay down to sleep, Captain Seaspray had called for all hooves on deck.
>Of course, you and the other two pegasi on board were immediately tasked with clearing the sky.
>Easier said than done.
>One of the winged ponies is shouting something to you, but over the roar of the storm you can’t hear her.
>As you give a small shrug in response, you see her grit her teeth and try again.
>Still nothing.
>Puffing out her cheeks, the pale pink pony shifts closer to you.
>And then the lightening starts.
>The first shot crashes into her and sends her careening down towards the swirling sea below.
>The third member of your flight team manages to scoop her up and take her back to the ship, but it’s pretty clear by this point that the squad is broken.
>You again curse your tired body, and then yourself for staying up all night talking to that stupid human.
>It’s his fault too!
>With frustration fueling you, you begin to make some headway.
>Even rolling out of the way of incoming bolts doesn’t seem to slow you down.
>Before long the rain begins and your goggles start to fog, but still you continue.
>Huffing and puffing, you finally reach the base of the cloud.
>And sock it with all your might!
>Clouds are not especially tough things; a good weatherpony can clear the skies above a town in a matter of seconds.

>The manufacturing sector of Cloudsdale has to be especially careful to keep their fluffy exports in one piece, least they miss out on watering a section of field.
>So you aren’t the least bit surprised when the dark, imposing mass vanishes before your eyes.
>But it’s not enough.
>In seconds you are overwhelmed by the encroaching blackness; the clouds threatening to swallow you whole in response to your actions.
>The hairs on your body stand on end as electricity crackles somewhere, and a lightening bolt zips by your ear, enough to singe the soft hairs.
“Yowch!”
>You strike back in response with another stiff hoof, but the reaction is always the same.
>Before long you’re spending too much time dodging bolts and not enough busting clouds.
>And neither of your squadmates have come back either!
>Still buffeted about by the wind, you chance a look towards the deck of the Whippoorwill and see Captain Seaspray waving up at you.
>He’s shouting something, but between the roar of the storm above, and the sea below, there’s no way you can be expected to hear him.
>The intention is rather clear.
>Come back in, there’s nothing to be done.
>Clicking your tongue in frustration, you wing yourself back towards the ship.
>What a mess; first you get kicked off the Wonderbolts, and now, when it really counts, you can’t even bust a stupid cloud!
>It’s enough to make you want to
>To…!

>Gritting your teeth, you turn in an instant and rocket back up towards the sky.
>The Captain’s shout almost reaches your ears, but only comes across as an inaudible mess.
>He doesn’t understand though; none of them do.
>You aren’t going to be outdone.
>Not ever again!
>The storm grumbles.
>Your hairs stand on end.
>And then everything goes white.
>When your sight clears, the world is whistling by at a tremendous pace.
>Vertically.
>In a downwards direction.
>You grunt, flexing your wings to get some air underneath you.
>But they don’t move.
>In fact, nothing moves.
>Panic rumbles in your belly as you try again but fail to get even the slightest response.
>Down.
>Down.
>Faster and faster.
>The angry sea looms ever closer.
>And, after an eternity, you hit.
>Something snaps.
>And everything gets fuzzy…


>“Cadet-”
>Captain Spitfire stops herself and shakes her head.
>“Lightening Dust, I’m sorry to say that you are no longer welcome at this training camp.”
>Baring your teeth, you feel the tears sting at your eyes.
>You hold them back as best you can, but some still slip out.
“Why? I did everything better than everypony else, even Rainbow Dash!”
>The stern mare nods, but continues to scowl.
>“So you did, and your aggressive attitude is certainly an advantage but there’s a difference between calculated risk and simply chasing the rush. You’re the latter.”
>On instinct, your muzzle scrunches up.
“I should be a coward, is that what you’re saying?”
>The Captain doesn’t flinch.
>“I’m saying you should grow up and stop living like you’re ready to throw your life, or somepony else’s, away.”
>Gulping, you struggle to form the words to fire back, but they just won’t come.
>Spitfire seems unsatisfied, but turns and marches back towards the Wonderbolt Academy.
>“You’ve got potential kid, but I don’t need another daredevil on this squad. Come back when you’ve learned how valuable your life is.”
“No.”
>You grit your teeth and move after her.
>But two stallions block your way and force you back.
>And so you do the only thing you can.
>You scream.
>You curse.
>You say every foul thing that you can come up with.
>But it doesn’t faze her.
>She doesn’t look back.
>Not even once.
>And the darkness swallows you whole from the inside out.


>Your eyes open slowly a thousand forevers later.
>The midday sun beats down on your back, and you become abundantly aware of a dull throbbing ache on your
>Well, your everything
>Grunting, you wait for your swimming vision to clear.
>The dull crash of waves reaches your ears, causing them to flick about on instinct.
>Gathering your tired hooves underneath your body, you stand.
>Or, you try to.
>The shooting pain on your left side sends you crumpling back to the sandy shore with a quiet cry.
>“Lightening Dust?”
>Not quiet enough, apparently.
>Through the tears, you can make out the somewhat familiar blobby shape of Anonymous.
>He leans over you, making you feel incredibly small as his hands run over your body.
>Your tired, broken, seawater soaked body.
>It’s a terrible feeling.
“G-get offa me.”
>Stars, your voice sounds like you’ve been gargling grog for the past eight months.
>“Sorry, sorry, you just sounded like you were hurt.”
>Hurt is an understatement.
>Blinking away the tears, you look up into his hopeful face and scowl.
“So what happened?”
>“Shipwreck.”
>Anonymous points off over your shoulder, and you can manage to twist your head around just enough to see the clear blue ocean beyond.
>No sign of the boat though.
>Wonderful.
“What about the rest of the crew?”
>“Not really concerned about them; my butler sort of left me to die, so I haven’t been too keen on finding anyone else. I saw you in the water though and couldn’t leave you there.”
“Softie.”
>You snort.
>And then wince.
>What a drag.
>“I’m sure they’re fine though; there are a number of islands around here, so they probably made it to one of them.”
“What about supplies? Food, water, shelter?”
>“Well, there’s some island fruits I’ve been eating and I haven’t died yet.”
>Good enough.
>“And there’s a small spring inland just a little ways.”
>Wonderful.

>“The last one, well, I’m working on it.”
>Fantastic; if you had the energy, you might give Anonymous a hoof-stomping ovation.
>But the best you can do is smile and nod.
>He takes it well enough.
“In that case, mind getting me a drink and something to eat?”
>“Sure, I’ll be right back.”
>The human disappears into the brush, leaving you alone with your broken body.
>You give yourself a quick once over, moving as little as possible to see what’s still working.
>Legs are okay, and aside from the occasional dizzy spell your head seems in good shape too.
>That may just be dehydration.
>The big issue is your wings.
>Your left wing, specifically.
>It’s either broken or badly sprained, and you’re not clever enough to know which.
>All you know is that it hurts.
>Almost as much as the cruel reminder of Captain Spitfire’s words.
>Maybe you are just a daredevil.
>Anonymous comes back with water cupped in his grabbers.
>Handy things, large enough for you to stick your snout in between them and drink deeply.
>It’s so sweet, so wonderful, you simply can’t get enough.
>Gulp after gulp runs down your gullet.
>A gag rumbles up in your throat as you cough, spending what remains of the precious liquid across the sand.
>Smiling sheepishly up at him, you chuckle.
“Guess I went a little fast. Just too good.”
>“I’m not surprised; you’ve been out for the better part of two days. Do you want more?”
“Yeah.”
>He makes another two trips, one for more water and comes back from the second with his grabbers full of berries.
>They’re not especially sweet, but very starchy and, most importantly, they fill you up.

>Once your stomach is satisfied, Anonymous moves you to a shadier part of the shore and sets back to work on constructing a living space.
>If you could actually call it that.
>It’s more of a lean-to, supported by a felled tree with vines holding the smaller branches in place.
>Hardly homey.
>Once you’re back on your hooves, you’ll have to see about building a proper structure, but it will do for the time being.
>If you’re even on the island that long.
>Once the Whippoorwill fails to make port, they’re bound to send out a search ships; for salvage if nothing else.
>It might be a few days, maybe weeks at most-
>You jerk upright.
>Or try to, as the sharp pain in your side keeps you prone against the ground.
>The competition!
>And here you are, on a deserted island, with a busted wing, and no idea when you’re going to get picked up.
>Stupid, stupid, stupid!
>Resting your head against your legs, you stew in your misery.
>And the long wait begins.


>One thing about being stranded: every day is more or less the same.
>Start the day with food and water, do a little camp maintenance, scavenge for supplies, eat and drink more, then avoid working as much as possible until the sun starts to set, tend to the fire for a while, and then sleep.
>There’s a lot of sleeping.
>By the end of the second week, Anonymous has his routine down and you’re feeling up to walking around.
>Flying is still out of the question, but now you can both keep watch for ships while the other explores the island.
>Some of the earthware from the Whippoorwill washed up on shore.
>Most of it is broken and busted, but now you have means to carry water.
>The shards make decent spear tips too, and the human is beginning to learn the fine art of fishing.
>Much as you aren’t a fan of their smoky taste, its still protein; something you’re going to need an abundance of if you want to get off the ground sooner.
>Speaking of, the pain is beginning to recede.
>You’ve managed to flex it a little and it’s manageable, for the most part.
>But still, there are no signs of ships.
>It’s almost as though the world that you’ve known has ceased to be.
>The only thing that’s left is your little island.
>So when the inevitable comes a few months later, you don’t pay it much mind.


“Anonymous.”
>The scruffy human looks up at you with a grunt.
>“What is it, LD?”
>You stifle a laugh at the sight of the large man hunched over the floor of your new living quarters.
>The lean-to simply wasn’t cutting it; you wanted to get off the ground.
>With sturdy branches stretching across the length of the floor, lashed together with vine and covered with often replaced greenery, the two of you are now able to rest without getting sand and grit in your coat.
>Hair.
>Whatever.
“I have a question for you.”
>The human stops brushing aside the leaves and plops himself down on the floor.
>“All right, I may have an answer.”
“Would you consider mounting me?”
>There’s a long pause as the human furrows his brow.
>“What?”
“I asked if you’d mount me.”
>“But, why?”
>You shrug and roll your eyes.
“Because I’m in bored? I know you’ve got the equipment; I wake up with it sandwiched between my flanks almost every morning.”
>The human gulps and looks away.
>Oh, great.
>Sighing, you trot up to him and place a hoof on his shoulder.
“Listen, I get it; I’m having urges too. All I’m saying is that we agree to act on them like the adults we are.”
>Anonymous stays quiet for a few seconds, then lifts his grab- his hand and places a few fingers under your chin.
>It’s an unfamiliar touch, but after months of being away from anything resembling civilization, it is very welcome.
>From the way he’s staring at you, the human’s in a similar boat.
>Well, nothing to it but to do it.
>Leaning into the touch, you make a small sound as his face presses up against your muzzle.
>The entire process is awkward and clumsy, a mix of exhaustion and both of you forced to explore unfamiliar territory.
>He’s insistent once the process begins however, and proves to be quite skilled with his fingers.
>Neither of you last too terribly long before sleep overtakes you.
>But it’s the beginning of something pleasant.


>Ultimately, your nightly relations become a way to pass the time.
>The human’s need for intimacy is almost insatiable; if he actually had the energy he could probably turn your legs into jelly.
>But he doesn’t.
>Just as well, you aren’t entirely sure you could handle that much affection.
>Still, there’s a great deal more tenderness in the way he spoons with you while you sleep.
>And it makes you feel so wonderfully warm inside.
>Days and weeks begin to blur, the patient waiting game never ending but taking on a different dimension.
>Marking the passage of time is now less important than things finally coming to an end.
>After your wing finally heals, you begin making trips to neighboring islands.
>There are signs of habitation of a few of them, but the fires and structures have long since been left behind.
>No signs of starvation though.
>That probably means that the crew was picked up.
>And you were forgotten.
>Cast out, again.
>The first time you were angry, but after that a sense of apathy begins to set in.
>Eventually, even those island hopping journeys slow, and then stop entirely.
>You’ve made a life for yourself on the island.
>It’s not ideal, but it’s feeling more and more like the place you want to be.
>You’re with him.
>He’s with you.
>Every day follows the same routine.
>It’s safe.
>It’s familiar.
>And it’s so quickly interrupted one morning with a stiff shake.
>“Dust, wake up.”
>You grunt, cracking open an eye.
“What are you doing up before me? The sun’s barely risen…”
>Closing your eye, you grunt as he gives you another nudge.
>“Stop dozing and get up; there’s a ship!”
>Ship?
>You stumble to your hooves as Anonymous makes his way down to the beach.
>He struggles a little with the fire, but eventually gets it burning as you hit the shore.
>Plopping your flank down on the sand, you watch as he throws green palm branches onto the fire which sends great plumes of white smoke take to the sky.
>The two of you watch the ship as it coasts along the horizon.
>And then it turns.
>Anonymous breathes a sigh of relief and turns back to you.
>“Are you going to fly out and meet them?”
>You flash him a smile and move over to his feet.
“Not unless you’re planning on growing wings and going with me.”
>The human laughs, reaching down and mussing your mane.
>Not that it takes much effort; mane care has been rather low on your list of priorities.
>But now, everything seems to be falling into place.
>You can go back to the mainland.
>Make a name for yourself in a few competitions.
>Get another invite to the Academy.
>And show Captain Spitfire that you’re not the same mare you used to be.
>As if on cue, Anonymous asks
>“Any big plans when you get back?”
>You flash a knowing smile and shrug.
“Maybe. But you’ll have to come with me if you want to find out.”
>As the ship draws closer, you can feel your heart thudding away in your chest.
>Those thoughts, those dreams, they’re still very much your own.
>But at the same time, you can’t deny that the strange creature beside you has wormed his way into your life.
>He’s thrown everything off balance.
>But maybe, just maybe, it’s better this way.
>In the distance you can see a pegasus flying towards the shore.
>You take a deep breath and ready yourself.
>Time for the star to make a comeback
>First things first: learn how to talk to strangers again…